Chapter 8: The Seal

Su Ming woke to the smell of ink and a bad fever behind his eyes.

The canopy over him was black silk, and the bed under him was wide and hard.

It took him a moment to understand that it was the Emperor's.

The Emperor himself sat in a straight chair at the bedside, with a memorial open on his knee.

He had not shaved.

His collar was undone, and the skin under his eyes was darker than Su Ming had yet seen it.

"You are awake," said Xiao Jue, without looking up.

"How long?"

"A day and a half." The Emperor turned a page.

"The physician said you would die. Gao Shun said you would not. I decided to believe Gao Shun."

"And Your Majesty has been here for"

"Reading," said the Emperor.

"For a day and a half."

"The memorials do not care where I read them."

Su Ming looked at the bruises of fatigue on his face, and the slow, careful way he held the paper still.

The page had not been turned in some time.

"The Emperor has stood at a sickbed for a day," Su Ming said, in his dry thin voice. "Does the realm run itself?"

Xiao Jue's eyes came up.

For the first time since Su Ming had known him, one corner of his mouth lifted, very slightly, and stayed there.

"It has managed," he said. "My ministers are used to being ignored."

He put the memorial aside and reached for a cup on the table.

"Drink. It is your own tea," said the Emperor.

"Your maid has made it three times a day and watched me drink it from your cup before she let you have any."

"She did not," said Su Ming.

"She told me it was the rule of the room." The Emperor held the cup out. "I would not have dared to disagree."

Su Ming took the cup. It was bitter and hot and he drank it all.

When he handed it back, the Emperor's fingers closed over his for a moment longer than the cup needed.

His thumb moved once across Su Ming's knuckles.

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