Chapter 4

Chapter 4

That laughter was too real.

It wasn’t a ghost’s cry or a hallucination; it was the sound of a child giggling right in your ear, sounding just like they’d come running back from the snow, covered in frost like powdered sugar. As the flame flared, shadows emerged on the four black stone walls of the cellar. A plate of steaming roasted goose appeared on the table, and a tree hung with golden bells materialized in the corner. Beneath the tree sat an old woman holding a bowl of soup, beckoning to Yan Zhichuan with a smile.

“Come quickly, the soup is still hot.”

My heart sank to the very bottom.

That old woman’s face was identical to my grandmother’s.

Yan Zhichuan, however, looked as if he had long been used to this; there wasn’t even a ripple of emotion in his eyes. He simply stood in the firelight, watching the table, the tree, and that smiling face as if watching a play that had nothing to do with him. The match burned slowly, but the fragrance grew thicker, so sweet it made one dizzy. When the last spark finally died out, the visions shattered inch by inch, reverting back into the cold, damp cellar.

Before the old woman vanished, she suddenly turned her head and looked toward where I was hiding.

The smile on her face remained unchanged, but her gaze turned cold.

“Don’t light the last one for yourself,” she said.

Yan Zhichuan’s eyes darkened, and he turned around almost instantly. Bai Linye stepped out from the shadows, shielding me.

“Your Highness, I will take her away.”

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, neither speaking. The only sound left in the cellar was the faint ticking of cooling wax drippings.

Finally, it was Yan Zhichuan who spoke first. “Since you’ve seen it, don’t pretend you don’t know.”

He walked up to me, the coldness radiating from him even heavier than that of the cellar. But I was colder still-so cold my bones felt hollow.

“The last thing they see before they die remains in the fire,” he said. “Some see bread, some see their mothers, some see a clean bed. The warmer the dream, the longer the fire lasts.”

“So you just let them freeze to death?”

“It wasn’t me.”

I nearly laughed out loud. “Was it not you who burned them?”

He fell silent for a moment, surprisingly offering no defense.

I suddenly understood. Rather than a refusal to explain, it was more like disdain. Or perhaps, in his eyes, this matter had long ceased to be about right or wrong; it was only natural, the price that had to be paid for every lit lamp in the Royal Palace.

“Why my mother?”

This time, Yan Zhichuan remained silent for a long while.

“Because she knew too much.”

“Was she a match girl too?”

“No.” He looked at me. “She was the first one who tried to give the fire back to the dead.”

A dull thud exploded in my brain.

Grandmother never mentioned my mother, only saying she had a thin fate. It turned out it wasn’t a thin fate; it was the Royal Palace that wouldn’t allow her to live.

“Yi Jiangxue.” Yan Zhichuan’s voice was very low, as if afraid of disturbing something. “You have two choices now. Stay in the palace and bring me fire every night, and I will ensure you survive this winter. Or run now. Run out the palace gates, run back into the snow, and line up with the names on those box lids.”

I stared at him. “Does Your Highness consider that a choice?”

He didn’t speak, merely giving me a look.

That look was strange. It wasn’t condescending, nor was it pitying; it was more like someone who had long since frozen solid, looking through a very, very thick layer of ice at a living person who was still bleeding.

By the time Bai Linye escorted me back to the side hall, dawn was nearly breaking.

Just before entering the door, he suddenly called out to me. “Don’t go to the cellar again. If you want to live, play dumb.”

“Did you know my mother too?”

The bite mark I had left on the back of Bai Linye’s hand was still there. He looked down at it and said softly, “Before your mother died, she had a message passed on.”

I snapped my head up.

“She said, if there ever came a day you were sent into Glimmersnow Palace, you must never let the Royal Palace know that you’ve been able to hear the fire speak since you were a child.”

My chest tightened, and my breath hitched.

Because I had never told anyone that secret.

But my mother knew.

And she had been dead for sixteen years.