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“You shouldn’t get a say here.” She was speaking before her father could stop her, her words dripping so sweetly that they sounded like admiration. “However flawed we are, however much we fight each other, this country is still not for people like you to dictate.”
The Consul-General’s bright expression faltered, but only slightly, unable to determine if Juliette was taking a dig or making an innocent remark. Her words were sharp but her eyes were friendly, her hands clasped together like she was making small talk.
“Have a good day,” Lord Cai cut in before any of the French could formulate a response. He steered Juliette away firmly, marching her by her shoulders.
“Juliette,” Lord Cai hissed the moment they were out of earshot. “I didn’t think I had to teach you this, but you cannot say things like that to powerful people. It will be the death of you.”
Juliette shook her shoulders out of her father’s grasp.
“Surely not,” she argued. “He is powerful, but he does not have the power to kill me.”
“Very well,” Lord Cai said firmly. “He may not kill you—”
“Then why can I not speak freely?”
Her father sighed. He breathed in, then breathed out, searching for his answer.
“Because,” he said finally, “it hurts his feelings, Juliette.”
Juliette folded her arms. “We stay quiet about the injustice of all this simply because it hurts his feelings?”
Lord Cai shook his head. He took his daughter by the elbow to lead her farther away, sparing a long look over his shoulder. When they were near one of the gazebos, he let go and clasped his hands before him.
“These days, Juliette,” he said, low and warily, “the most dangerous people are the powerful white men who feel as if they have been slighted.”
Juliette knew this. She knew this far more than people like her father and mother, who had only ever seen what the foreigners were capable of after they sailed their ships into Chinese waters. But Juliette—her parents had sent her off to America to be educated, after all. She had grown up with an eye pinned to the outside of every establishment before she walked in, searching for the segregation signs that demanded she keep out. She had learned to move out of the way whenever a white lady in heels was coming down the sidewalk with her pearls, learned to fake meekness and lower her gaze in the event that the white lady’s husband would note the slight roll of Juliette’s eyes and yell after her, demanding to know why she was in this country and what her problem was.
She didn’t have to do a single thing in offense. It was the entitlement that drove these men forward. Entitlement that encouraged their wives to place a delicate handkerchief to their nose and sniff, wholeheartedly believing the tirade was deserved. They believed themselves the rulers of the world—on stolen land in America, on stolen land in Shanghai.
Everywhere they went—entitlement.
And Juli
ette was so tired.
“Everyone gets their feelings hurt,” she said bitterly. “While he’s here, he can experience it for once in his life. He doesn’t deserve to have power. It’s not his right.”
“I know,” Lord Cai said simply. “All of China knows. But this is the way the world works now. For as long as he has power, we need him. For as long as he has the most guns, he holds the power.”
“It is not as if we do not have guns,” Juliette grumbled anyway. “It is not as if we have not had an iron grip on Shanghai for the last century with our guns.”
“Once it was enough,” Lord Cai replied. “Now it is not.”
The French needed them, but the Scarlet Gang did not need the French in the same way. What her father meant in actuality was that they needed French power—they needed to stay on their good side. If the Scarlet Gang were to declare war and take back the French Concession as Chinese territory, they would be destroyed in hours. Loyalty and gang hierarchy was nothing against warships and torpedoes. The Opium Wars had proved that.
Juliette made a sound of disgust. Seeing her father’s stern expression, she sighed and diverted the topic back to what was important. “Never mind. I heard nothing of interest from his men.”
Lord Cai nodded. “That is fortunate. It means less trouble for us. Go enjoy yourself.”
“Sure,” Juliette said. By that she meant, I’m getting food and then I’m leaving. She had spotted Paul Dexter coming through the gates. He was searching through the crowd. “I’ll be hiding—” Juliette coughed. “Pardon me, I’ll be hovering by that tree.”
Unfortunately, despite how quickly Juliette paced away, she still wasn’t fast enough.
“Miss Cai, what a pleasant surprise.”
Having reached the food table, Juliette set her clutch down and primly picked up an egg tart. She took a nibble, then turned around, facing the human equivalent of stale bread.
“How have you been?” Paul asked. He clasped his hands behind his back, stretching the blue fabric of his tailored suit. He wasn’t wearing a mask, either. His green eyes blinked at her unfettered, reflecting the golden lights above them.
