It was dark inside, and with the beads in front of her face, she couldn’t see a thing. She went by touch, crawling inside with little dignity and much speed. The cushions moved awkwardly beneath her hands until she touched a very hard one that remained stable. She pushed down, levering her weight on it.

The curtains slipped closed behind her, and one of the porters grunted as the palanquin lifted off the street. She slid off the heavy cushion onto something else. Goodness, silk was slippery. And the cushions were bizarre. The palanquin began to sway as it moved away from her family home. She wanted to peer out the curtain, but she didn’t dare do something so vulgar even though the tears burned in her eyes.

She would never see her family again. Once inside the Forbidden City, no consort ever came out again. Her father might be able to arrange to visit, but such things were rare even among those more politically astute than her father. Her mother had less power, and her brothers wouldn’t be allowed unless they gave up their manhood first and became eunuchs, or passed the exam and became advisors.

Ji Yue widened her eyes in the darkness, trying to dry the tears. She didn’t dare cry because it would ruin the white matte that covered her face. Instead, she kicked hard at the cushions that refused to move.

“Ugh,” someone grunted. Then she felt a hand grip her ankle hard.

Only years of training kept her from screaming. Ladies didn’t scream. By the time she was ten, she’d faced down rats, spiders and snakes without a peep. She would not scream now when riding in an imperial palanquin. She simply kicked as hard as she could to dislodge-

“Ow! Hold still, damn it. I’m not here to rape you.”

A man. Oh, heaven, a man! “Get out!” she ordered as she tried to scramble backward. She couldn’t go far without falling out the back end. “Get out or I will kick you again!” It was a silly threat. He had an iron grip on her ankle.

“Quit fighting,” he said in a low undertone.

“You cannot be here!” she said, and shoved as hard as she could. He lifted her leg up so that all she did was kick the air above his head. “I will scream!”

“Would you really scream? And let everyone know that a man is riding with you to the Forbidden City?”

She bit her lip, then promptly stopped since that would eat off the red paint. Her mother had told her to be smart. It was time she started using her brain instead of her extremely ineffective brawn. “What do you want?” she spat. “I have no money for you. Be thankful if you are not whipped for daring to touch an imperial consort.”

He was still holding her ankle prisoner. Worse, he was putting his weight on it now as he maneuvered into a sitting position. “You’re not going to be a royal bride. I’m sorry but it’s true.” Then he yawned while horror chilled her bones.

“You insolent pig!” She kicked again for all she was worth. He was still yawning, his head thrown back with his inhalation. Her leg slipped from his grip and caught him square in the ribs. This cut off his breath, and he doubled over with a gasp. She didn’t give him time to recover but shifted and planted both feet on his hips and began to shove him right out the side of her bower.

He fought her, of course, but she was prepared. He didn’t grab hold of her. Instead, his fists were filled with crumpled silk. “If I fall out now, everyone will see it,” he warned. “You do not have enough ivory to silence so exciting a story-a man in a potential bride’s palanquin.”

She paused. One last push and he would go tumbling through the curtains out into the dirt where he belonged. “They already know from the weight,” she said miserably.

“No, they don’t. They carried me here, remember? They think it’s just a heavy litter.”

She swallowed, torn between two miserable options. Did she kick him out and pray that people believed in her purity? Never. Or did she let him stay and hope no one was the wiser. “How did you get in here in the first place?”

“I slipped in when they rested. I can slip out again at the gates. I do it all the time and no one notices.”

Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, she could see more of him. He was not a broad man like those carrying the palanquin, but tall like her father. His clothing was excellent, though the long queue down his back was misshapen from sleep.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“A lackey for the Son of Heaven,” he said with obvious bitterness.

“Eunuch?” she asked hopefully. It was well known that some of the “cut” men were overly friendly.

He released a sharp bark of laughter at that, and she abruptly shushed him. “No,” he said in a lower tone. “I am not so important as to be cut.”

She frowned. “I thought all minions to the emperor were eunuchs. Who else would do the things the royals despise?”

“Me,” he groused. “And a few others.”

She shook her head. “I do not believe you.” It was well known that except for a few intimates of the emperor, all men in the Forbidden City were eunuchs. This man couldn’t be an imperial friend. Otherwise he would have his own conveyance and therefore no need to borrow hers. The eunuchs, on the other hand, would often escape into Peking for pleasure. They would also, therefore, need a secret way back into the city.

She narrowed her eyes, inspecting this man more closely. “You dress too finely to be common. You speak too well to be ignorant. And your hands…” She jutted her chin at his long, elegant fingers. “They are used to a brush and ink, not labor. You must be a secretary then, someone who works as an assistant to the emperor.” She sighed in relief. “Which means you are a eunuch pretending to be whole. There is nothing exciting about an overly friendly eunuch, even if he lands in the dirt.” And with that, she shoved him out of her bower.

He tumbled backward into the dust. She would forever remember the look of stunned shock on his face as he fell. And when she rolled over to peer after him, she heard the porters laugh. The Insolent One, as she now dubbed him, had landed in some rotting leaves. His fine dark clothing was smeared with grime. She couldn’t see his face, though, as the porters carried her on by.

Then, with a sigh, she deftly removed two strings of ivory beads from her headdress. She would have to bribe the porters into silence. That was a good deal of money to lose before she even reached the gates, but there was no hope for it. She couldn’t risk them speaking, even about an insolent eunuch. In the end, her father’s grand gesture-like all his great gifts-had cost too much money to be worthwhile.

Thankfully, she was about to change that. When she became an imperial bride, money would flow like water through her family’s door. And on that happy thought, she reclined alone on the silk cushions and waited for the first test.

2

THE MASTER OF THE FESTIVAL was late. Ji Yue rolled her eyes. Of course, Sun Bo Tao, playboy of the Forbidden City, would ignore his imperial duties. He was probably in an opium daze in some woman’s bedroom. But why hadn’t there been provisions for that man’s irresponsibility? Why couldn’t they continue the inspection without him? Ji Yue tried to find out, but no one had accurate information, and she dared not risk appearing unseemly by demanding answers. Virgins were supposed to be docile and graciously accepting. So she tried to be patient as she reclined in her palanquin to wait. Dozens of girls stood around in the heat, their legs aching and their makeup running into their silks. At least she got to sit, though even she felt like she waited in an oven.

Really, the nerve of the man, making the future empress of China stay out in the heat like a drying fish! She glanced outside to see if there was any movement at all. Palanquins clogged the streets while porters squatted on their heels and threw dice. The girls were visibly wilting. One in particular drew Ji Yue’s eye.