Li Xiu awoke to gray dawn light filtering through a high, narrow window of the servants' quarters. A dull ache throbbed at the back of her skull as she pushed herself upright on the straw-filled mattress. For a moment she sat in disoriented silence, slender fingers clutching rough wool blankets, her breaths coming quick and shallow. Where am I? Only a day ago—in what felt like another life—she had died. Yet here she was, alive, in an unfamiliar body in an unfamiliar place.
For a heartbeat, Li Xiu wondered if it was all a fever dream. She flexed her fingers and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. The hair was coarser and a shade lighter than she remembered, and the face her fingertips found was not the one she had known. This isn't my body, she realized with a chill. She could recall fragments of her past life—a laboratory and the acrid scent of chemicals—so far removed from the cold stone walls of this room. Somehow she had awakened in the body of a palace servant girl.
A sharp rap at the wooden door jolted Li Xiu from her thoughts. "Li Xiu! Are you up?" a woman's voice hissed in an urgent whisper. The door creaked open before Li Xiu could answer, and a stout older maid with a starched white cap stuck her head in. Her eyes narrowed as they landed on the girl sitting bewildered on the cot. "Good, you're awake. On your feet, now! You have duties to attend to."
Li Xiu scrambled to stand, her legs trembling as if even her new body was weakened by recent events. She hastily donned the plain brown dress and apron folded at the foot of the bed, moving on instinct more than recollection. The older maid—her name surfaced in Li Xiu's mind after a brief pause: Madam Jian—bustled in and began to fuss, tucking stray strands of Li Xiu's black hair beneath a kerchief. "Listen carefully," Madam Jian muttered, voice low but urgent, "they're expecting you in the Queen's dining hall. You're to be Her Majesty's new food taster."
At those words, Li Xiu's stomach dropped. She had heard whispers of what happened to the previous taster. Madam Jian's lips pressed into a thin, grim line. "Try not to end up like the last girl," the maid added curtly. "Now hurry—the Queen does not like to be kept waiting."
Madam Jian's warning offered no comfort. Li Xiu swallowed hard and followed the older woman out into a drafty stone corridor. Her soft-soled shoes scuffed against cold flagstones as they hurried through a maze of halls lit by dawn. The palace was waking around them: distant footsteps echoed and hushed voices carried through the halls.
As she walked, Li Xiu's mind raced. Food taster... Even the title itself chilled her; surely it meant the last girl had been poisoned. She could feel the thrum of her borrowed heart—a rapid flutter of dread. I just escaped death once... have I now been sent straight into its jaws again?
They reached a pair of ornate double doors guarded by two royal guards. The men stepped aside at Madam Jian's brisk nod and pulled the doors open. "Good luck," the old maid whispered, squeezing Li Xiu's arm before shooing her inside.
Li Xiu stepped into the Queen's dining hall, a lofty chamber of marble floors and gilded columns. A long oak table dominated the room, and at its head sat the Queen. Her Majesty was coldly elegant in a high-collared burgundy gown, her dark hair coiled in an elaborate braid atop her head. Though the Queen's posture was composed, her eyes were edged with tension. They flicked toward Li Xiu as she entered, and for an instant Li Xiu felt the weight of that gaze—sharp and assessing.
Beside the Queen stood a royal steward, a thin man with a pointed beard and a ledger in hand. He cleared his throat and addressed Li Xiu in a crisp tone. "You are the new taster, I presume. State your name for Her Majesty."
Li Xiu mustered her voice. "Li Xiu, Your Majesty," she replied softly, keeping her head bowed.
The steward nodded once. "Very well, Li Xiu. You will sample each of Her Majesty's dishes before she partakes. Begin now." He gestured to a covered silver platter set before an empty place at the table—clearly the taster's spot.
Li Xiu moved to the indicated place, her heart hammering. A footman removed the lid of the first dish, releasing the savory aroma of hot soup. Li Xiu's fingers quivered as she picked up a small silver spoon. Steady... she urged herself, drawing a slow breath as she leaned over the bowl. It smelled of leeks and herbs—nothing amiss.
Still, her mind couldn't help cataloguing possible dangers. Arsenic was tasteless and might lurk in any bite. Pushing those worries aside, Li Xiu dipped the spoon into the broth and brought it to her lips. Warm, savory liquid met her tongue. She swallowed, then stood tense and alert, every nerve taut as she waited for any sign of burning in her throat or sickness in her gut.
Several seconds passed. Nothing happened—no sudden pain, no dizziness—only the comforting heat of the soup in her belly. Li Xiu released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She gave a small nod toward the Queen, indicating the dish seemed safe.
At a gesture from the steward, a servant brought forth the next platter—roasted quail drizzled in a honey glaze—and set it before Li Xiu. The rich scent of roast meat and sweet spice wafted up. It might have been appetizing under other circumstances; now it only made Li Xiu's stomach clench with anxiety. She picked up the Queen's sharp-handled tasting knife to slice off a small piece of the quail. Her hand was steadier now, but she stayed vigilant.
Li Xiu scrutinized the morsel before tasting, checking for any odd discoloration or odor. Seeing nothing amiss, she placed the bite of quail in her mouth and forced herself to chew slowly. The meat was tender, spiced with a hint of cinnamon and pepper. She swallowed, heart thudding as she imagined poison seeping into her blood.
A minute passed. Li Xiu felt only the warmth of a well-cooked meal settling in her stomach—no numbness on her tongue, no hint of illness. She finally exhaled. Glancing up, she found the Queen watching her with an unreadable expression. So far, so good, Li Xiu thought, trying to steady her racing heart.
Finally, a maid approached carrying a delicate porcelain tea set on a tray—the final offering of the morning. The maid set a teacup and saucer before Li Xiu and filled it from a steaming jade-green teapot. The tea was a lovely amber-gold, its surface shimmering in the light. From a step away, it smelled of jasmine blossoms. But as Li Xiu lifted the cup, a faint bitter undertone pricked at her nose.
Her stomach clenched. Bitter almonds. The jasmine fragrance could not quite mask that telltale odor. Li Xiu's pulse quickened as cold certainty gripped her: in her past life's chemistry studies, she had learned the smell of bitter almonds signaled cyanide.
Li Xiu's mind reeled. If she so much as sipped that tea, she could be dead within seconds.
She had to avoid drinking at all costs, but she couldn't just refuse in front of everyone. If the poisoner realized she'd caught on, they might move to silence her. Think! she urged herself, fighting the terror threatening to paralyze her. She needed a pretext—any excuse to avoid the lethal brew.
With trembling hands, Li Xiu raised the cup toward her lips. Now! In the same instant, she jerked her arm violently as if seized by a spasm of nerves. The cup flew from her grasp. Scalding tea splashed across the table and floor as the delicate porcelain cup shattered against the marble.
A collective gasp rose from the assembled servants. Li Xiu dropped to her knees, eyes wide in apparent shock, and pressed her forehead to the floor. "F-forgive me, Your Majesty!" she cried, her voice shaking. "I'm so sorry... I-it was an accident!"
She kept her head low, hiding the wild pounding of her heart—and the immense relief flooding through her. The poisoned tea now pooled harmlessly on the floor, soaking into the hem of her skirt.
The steward rushed forward, face red with anger. "You clumsy girl—!" he barked, reaching as if to grab Li Xiu by the arm.
"Enough." The Queen's quiet command cut through the air. She had risen from her seat. A few droplets of tea glistened on her sleeve, which she dabbed with a napkin. Her gaze fell on Li Xiu, still kneeling amid the mess. "Accidents happen," the Queen said coldly. "Clean this up."
Li Xiu bowed her head and rushed to obey. She and a pair of footmen hurried to mop up the spill and gather the broken china. The Queen stepped back from the table, watching in silence.
"Leave us. Everyone out," the Queen suddenly commanded.
The servants exchanged uneasy glances but bowed and filed out quickly. Within moments, the heavy doors thudded shut behind them, leaving Li Xiu alone in the vast dining hall with Her Majesty.
"Stand up, Li Xiu," the Queen said softly.
Li Xiu rose shakily to her feet, keeping her head lowered. "Your Majesty, I... I apologize for my clumsiness," she began in a faltering voice.
The Queen lifted a hand to silence her. A tense quiet fell as she studied Li Xiu's face. At last, the Queen spoke again, voice low. "That was not mere clumsiness, was it?"
Li Xiu's mouth went dry. Her first instinct was to insist it had been an accident. But under the Queen's piercing stare, any pretense would be futile. After a moment, Li Xiu whispered, "No, Your Majesty. It wasn't."
The Queen's head tilted slightly. "Explain," she said. "Why did you really spill the tea?"
Li Xiu drew a breath. "I believed the tea was poisoned, Your Majesty," she confessed, the words tumbling out. "When I picked up the cup, I noticed a strange smell—like bitter almonds. I... I'd learned that scent signals a deadly poison."
"Bitter almonds," the Queen repeated, a flash of understanding in her eyes. Her jaw clenched. "And you are certain?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. I have a knack for recognizing poisons — the scent was unmistakable," Li Xiu replied. "I thought it wiser to feign clumsiness rather than raise an alarm in front of everyone. If the poisoner knew I noticed, they might have tried to silence me, or found another way to harm Your Majesty."
The Queen exhaled slowly, her rigid posture easing. "You've saved my life today, and with cunning," she said, a note of gratitude in her voice. "Had you drunk that tea, I would have followed you to the grave."
Li Xiu flushed at the praise. "I only did what I had to, Your Majesty. I'm just relieved I caught it in time."
The Queen's expression hardened. "Tell no one of this incident," she instructed. "We cannot be sure whom to trust. Continue your duties as usual and stay on guard. I fear this culprit will try again."
Li Xiu bowed her head. "Yes, Your Majesty."
Before either of them could say more, a faint noise made Li Xiu tense. A faint scuff of a shoe sounded just beyond the closed doors of the hall. The Queen's eyes snapped toward the entrance. There was a soft scrape outside.
Li Xiu's blood ran cold. Someone was lurking just outside, eavesdropping. She met the Queen's alarmed gaze, then crept to the doors. Carefully, Li Xiu eased the door open a crack and peered into the corridor.
Down the dim hallway, a figure in servant's livery vanished around the far corner. Li Xiu's heart pounded. Who had been spying on them—and how much had they heard?