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I take a sip of wine to loosen the words I must utter. “I want to be the most important person to you,” I lie earnestly. “Not one of many, easily discarded or forgotten. I want to matter, to be more than what everyone thinks of me—the lucky and undeserving girl who caught your eye, whom you raised above others. Though I have neither rank nor wealth, I want to earn my own. I have my pride too.”

His mouth arches into a slow smile, the one that once made my heart quicken. He’s looking at me like he used to—no longer cold and guarded, but curious. Intrigued. “Wasn’t there another way without risking your life? Weren’t you afraid of fighting General Xilu, of the magic-wielder?”

“When Your Highness proposed so unexpectedly, it filled me with urgency—because I wanted to accept. Maybe my haste clouded my judgment… but you spoke so warmly of how I defended you against the assassins before. I wanted to prove I could do more, to help fend off all our enemies.” My tone pulses with sincerity as I hone the rumors he’s heard into lies he wants to believe.

Prince Zixin leans closer until his breath grazes my cheek. “What of the Thorn Valley advisor whom you spoke at length with before? Did you learn more about him after your travels together?” His tone shifts, darkening. He doesn’t seem to care about Lord Chao but for some reason, Jin stirs his anger.

“I did.” I catch the prince off guard with my admission. “I learned he’s a liar and a cheat, and not to be trusted. He proposed the idea to me, to challenge General Xilu to secure my position. He said Your Highness would approve—and I was stupid enough to believe him.”

He’s watching me intently. “Tell me, what did the advisor promise you? Did he ask you for anything else?” His voice grows dangerously soft.

Careful. I can’t appear that Thorn Valley has a hold over me. “If I helped them win against General Xilu, the advisor promised me wealth of my own. I also believed I’d be helping Your Highness by rescuing the duke’s daughter. I wanted to use the money for… a dowry.” I look down, flushing at these loathsome insinuations. “He promised the journey would be safe. But I fell into a swamp crater, I was hurt.” I pull up the hem of my robe to reveal the marks ringing my ankle, careful to conceal the dagger strapped to my calf. “Now, he’s refusing to give me the gold I was promised until Duke Yuan relinquishes the starfire.”

Lies, so many of them that I must be careful not to trap myself. After what they did to my mother, I feel no remorse—just a keen, bitter eagerness to strike back.

When the prince smiles this time, it reaches his eyes. “Don’t worry about the duke and the Thorn Valley advisor. You don’t need wealth to win my favor.” He pauses, then adds, “It is already yours.”

My chest constricts, but I harden myself to hold his gaze, smiling with every bit of falseness I can muster. “Your Highness is kind.”

“I am not,” he tells me. “Only to those that matter.”

A beat of silence falls. I should draw this moment out, mold his declaration into an opportunity.

“Are you still unhappy about your ring?” he asks suddenly.

Another test? “Your Highness knows I want it back. I don’t like things taken from me without reason, or when games are played that I don’t know the rules of.” Prince Zixin would be suspicious of unwavering compliance.

“If you are honest with me, I will be honest with you.”

I don’t think he’d like my honesty. “Do you trust me, Your Highness?” I turn the question back to him.

“I want to.”

“As I do you, Your Highness,” I reply. “But you’re asking for something you don’t want to surrender yourself. If you trust me, why keep my ring? Why set a price for its return?”

This time, he looks away. I must try harder to win him over. “Shall we play a game?” I suggest lightly, once our plates are cleared. “One where we both know the rules?”

“A game?” he repeats, his brow creasing. “I don’t know many of them.”

“How about dice? The highest number wins; the loser drinks a cup in penalty. No skill is required, just luck.”

As he nods, an attendant sets before us a mother-of-pearl dice shaker and a porcelain bowl, along with a trio of onyx dice. Prince Zixin flings them into the bowl. Fourteen points. I pick up the dice and toss them with abandon. One six and two fives.

When Prince Zixin takes a sip of wine, I tap his arm. “You need to finish your cup,” I remind him in a tone that grates on my own nerves. “Otherwise, it’s not a penalty.”

“As long as you’ll play by the same rules.” He drains the cup, toying with the stem. “Your mood is different tonight.”

“I’ve decided to worry less about tomorrow, to only care about today.”

He sets his cup down, an attendant rushing to refill it. “I like you this way.”

Amusing, attentive, and obedient?

We play another round, and this time, I lose. I drink the wine, burning down my throat—both pungent and sweet. Fortunately, I’ve taken herbs to protect me from its effects, along with the antidote to Dian’s sleeping powder. I need to act quickly before they wear off. When I set the cup down, I sway like I’m dizzy.

“Do you want to stop?” Prince Zixin asks.

I shake my head. We play several rounds; I lose more than I win. But tonight, I’ll make my own luck. My mind remains clear though my cheeks are warm from the wine, my speech slurring a little. Prince Zixin is smiling more, his face flushed. When he hands me another cup as a penalty, his fingers brush mine—then linger. Everyone is staring at us, ignoring their food: Ruilin’s eyes are wide, some of Princess Chunlei’s ladies whispering among themselves, along with the younger nobles. Those older look away studiously. The chill of their scorn settles over me like frost. I can’t look at Jin right now; I must play to win.