I stood before General Jianyun’s desk, wondering why he had summoned me. I rarely saw him these days, since I

began training with Captain Wenzhi and his troops. My

gaze fixed upon the table, intricately crafted from rosewood and inlaid with mother-of-pearl in designs of bamboo, lotuses, and cranes. I did not expect such a delicate piece to adorn the office of so pragmatic a soldier. Although I

reminded myself that despite his forbidding exterior, the general had shown me kindness I did not deserve. He had seen something in me before I realized it myself.

I shifted uncertainly beneath the weight of his stare, the gilded scales of my armor clinking. General Jianyun’s brows snapped together in a wordless rebuke: a good soldier did not fidget.

I stood straighter, forcing my legs to still. Did he call me here to admonish me for some offense? To lecture me on my carelessness with Xiangliu?

A glimmer of a smile formed on his lips. “For your first assignment, you did well.”

My breath came out in a rush. “Thank you, General.” “As agreed, you may decide your next assignment. There

are two in need of another recruit. One will go to the

Golden Desert to harvest the rare herbs that grow there.

While it borders the Demon Realm, no disturbance is expected with the peace treaty intact.”

I nodded, trying to appear enthused. I had never been to the Golden Desert, but gathering plants held little appeal.

Perhaps I should have been grateful for an easier

assignment after Xiangliu, except this would not gain the emperor’s attention.

“Or would you prefer to accompany Captain Wenzhi again?” General Jianyun offered. “While that is his

preference, this is your choice. He will lead a troop to the Eastern Sea, whose king has called for our aid to handle recent unrest.”

My mind stirred with a fragment of a tale my mother

used to tell me. Her voice, soft and melodious, as she had spoken of the Eastern Sea and . . .

“The dragons,” I whispered, so wrapped in the memory of her cool hand stroking my cheek that I inhaled instinctively

—a futile attempt to capture a whiff of cinnamon-wood. A dull ache gripped me, different from the stabbing pain of heartbreak, though both awoke a longing in me for

something lost.

General Jianyun tensed, a rare slip in his composure. “Dragons?”

I laughed to cover my lapse—too shrill, too loud. “Just an old fable I had heard, that the Eastern Sea was the

birthplace of the dragons. Did they cause this disturbance?”

He spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. “The dragons are no longer in the Eastern Sea. No longer in the Immortal Realm.”

A dozen questions flashed through my mind. All I knew of the dragons was the story I had been told. Until now, I had believed them merely a myth, a symbol of power which the emperor seemed to favor.

Before I could speak, the general continued with a frown, “It is the merfolk, the deep-sea dwellers. They have broken

the peace for the first time, ever. And while it’s just petty skirmishes for now, Captain Wenzhi is preparing for any eventuality.”

The tranquil exploration of the Golden Desert or the perils of the Eastern Sea? The stench of Xiangliu’s cave sprang into my memory, the ominous chink of its scales

casting a shiver down my spine. But such was the price of the path I had chosen. And as Captain Wenzhi had said, perhaps we might find more information on the Jade

Dragon Bow in the Eastern Sea.

In the weeks before our departure, I trained more intensely than I ever had before. While I was lauded for slaying Xiangliu, deep down I felt I was a fraud—that such praise was undeserved. My fear and inexperience had endangered us all. How arrogant I had been to imagine myself ready,

that I could leap into the ocean depths and miraculously

learn how to swim. How rash, to think my feats in training could be easily replicated when blood thickened the air,

pain and terror engulfing my body and mind. No, I would

not make that mistake again. Each night I sank into bed, so exhausted I no longer feared being alone with my thoughts in the dark. I no longer sought the solitude of the roof. Why would I, when I drifted to sleep the moment my head

dropped onto the pillow?

The sky was overcast from the clouds we summoned for our journey to the Eastern Sea. A mortal looking up would have been startled by the enormous cloudbanks moving

swiftly across the heavens. I had finally overcome my

trepidation to master this skill, no longer reliant on another to carry me. My energy flowed in a glittering surge, calling down the nearest cloud. Silver flecks wove into its voluminous folds, imbuing it with my magic as I soared into the skies.

The beauty of the Eastern Sea transfixed me. Brilliant- colored flowers and plants abounded along the shore,

glowing with an inner radiance. I reached out to touch a petal, surprised to find it as firm and cool as porcelain. A lush forest grew at the far end, away from the shoreline, while houses of cedarwood and stone were built upon the sand. Their sloping roofs were paved with turquoise and mother-of-pearl, and in the morning light, they glittered

like the cresting waves of the sea. A crystal walkway

arched from the beach to the palace, which rose from the midst of the ocean.

My gaze fixed on the endless horizon as I wandered

toward the shoreline, my boots sinking into the soft sand. All thought of work forgotten, I crouched down and dipped my hands into the cold water, startling the tiny, silvery fish swimming in the shallows. When a shadow fell over me, I

spun around, squinting against the bright sunlight.

Captain Wenzhi towered above, an amused smile on his lips. “Have you never been to the sea?”

I straightened, shaking the droplets from my hands. A few scattered over him but he did not seem to mind. “I’ve seen it when flying above or in pictures. And . . . someone told me it was beautiful.” My mother’s wistful words

echoed in my mind, her hopes for the life she had envisioned for me.

Footsteps crunched the sand as several soldiers approached. Beneath their watchful stares, I wrapped my

palm over my fist and bowed. “Captain Wenzhi, I await your command.”

“See to your responsibilities before you acquaint yourself with our surroundings.” His tone was stern, yet his smile

did not waver as he turned and strode to the waiting soldiers.

I kept my head down, hiding my face. An onlooker might think I was ashamed to be reprimanded, but as I gazed at the ever-changing waters my spirits were lighter than the

wandering breeze. And for the first time in months, I sensed the stirrings of anticipation.

After the camp was organized, I accompanied Captain Wenzhi across the crystal bridge for his audience with the king. The palace gleamed against the sea and sky—a

shimmering edifice of rock quartz, turquoise, and mother- of-pearl, with a two-tiered roof of gilded tiles. The large

entrance doors were crafted from ash wood and inlaid with gold, over which hung a plaque inscribed with the characters:

FRAGRANT CORAL PALACE

All around were more of the exquisite flowers and plants I had seen on the beach—sprays of vermilion branches,

bright green flowers shaped like fans, pink tubular stalks, and smooth rocks covered with glowing red moss. An

enchanted garden plucked from the heart of the ocean.

Through the doors, an attendant guided us down a long flight of stairs. The lower levels of the palace were built underwater, crafted from the same clear stone as the bridge. It was like walking on the ocean floor, surrounded by shifting water and coral reefs all around. As we entered a crowded hall with soaring ceilings, silence fell over the

gathered immortals. Only then did I hear the melodious clink from the strands of ivory shells which swayed behind the agate thrones. I had only seen King Yanzheng of the

Eastern Sea once before, at Liwei’s banquet. Silver hair framed his smooth, unlined face and his eyes glowed

against his dark skin. His teal silk robe was embroidered with waves, edged by glistening curves of white thread. A gold fan-shaped crown, studded with pearls, rested upon his hair.

Captain Wenzhi and I knelt on the floor, stretching out our clasped hands, as we bowed. “The Celestial Kingdom

has answered the Eastern Sea’s call for aid,” he intoned formally. “Our swords will be drawn, and our bows

stretched in your service.”

“Rise,” the king commanded, sounding pleased. “We are grateful for the assistance of the Celestial Kingdom during these troubled times. The merfolk’s attacks caught us

unaware as they had always lived peacefully among us before. Captain Wenzhi, your reputation has reached even our ears in the Eastern Sea and we thank the Celestial Emperor for sending us his finest warrior.”

Captain Wenzhi bowed again. “Your Majesty is kind, but I do not deserve such praise. It is my honor to serve to the

best of my abilities.”

King Yanzheng stroked his beard, “Humility

accompanying such talent is rare.” He gestured toward me. “Is this lady your wife?”

Strangled noises slid from my mouth as Captain Wenzhi’s ears reddened. “No, Your Majesty. This is . . . First Archer Xingyin of the Celestial Army.”

My ears pricked up at his introduction. First Archer?

The king glanced at my armor. “Ah,” he nodded, with a bemused smile. “We do not have female warriors here.”

Several courtiers tittered, some smothering their laughter behind raised sleeves. My insides churned from the unwanted scrutiny, even as my fingers curled at their disdain.

Captain Wenzhi swept a chilling gaze around the room, which silenced their mirth more effectively than a sword. “First Archer Xingyin is the highest ranked archer in our

army. She will be of great assistance to this campaign.” He spoke in clipped tones. “Your Majesty, could you advise us on the situation with the merfolk?”

The king gestured to the young man beside him. “My eldest son, Prince Yanxi, will brief you.”

A tall immortal stepped forward, clad in a shimmering

sky-blue robe. Tiny fish, embroidered in crimson and silver,

darted from their folds. His dark brown hair was coiled up into a topknot, secured with a turquoise hairpin. This close, I sensed his aura, cool and steady, thrumming with power.

“Captain Wenzhi, First Archer Xingyin. Since the

beginning of time, we have lived in harmony with the merfolk. While we, Sea Immortals, prefer to stay on both

land and sea—the merfolk chose to dwell deep underwater, only surfacing on rare occasions. They revered the dragons who used to live there and desired to be close to them. The dragons were wise and gentle creatures, helping to

maintain the harmony in our waters.”

His tone changed, growing taut. “When the Celestial Emperor banished the dragons from our realm, the merfolk grew restless. Over time, their dislike of land grew greater, preferring to keep solely to themselves in the depths of the ocean. Years ago, my father allowed them to choose a governor to represent them at our court. Unfortunately, Governor Renyu is dangerous, his ambitions stretching far beyond his mandate. We received reports that he had

recruited a large army from among the merfolk, training them in weaponry and magic. When my father requested his presence to answer these accusations, he refused.”

I thought to myself, training an army without a mandate was treasonous indeed. And Governor Renyu’s guilt was

compounded by his refusal to meet the king.

Prince Yanxi rubbed his brow, his expression darkening. “Since then, the merfolk turned outright hostile. Sea Immortals who ventured too deep into the waters were

attacked. The homes closest to the shore were raided. Each time, the perpetrators fled before our soldiers could

apprehend them.”

“Petty banditry is unlikely to be all the governor intends. Do you have any knowledge of his plans?” Captain Wenzhi asked.

“Recently he issued his own edict, banning all Sea Immortals from the ocean depths. A grave insult to us. We

believe he wants to overthrow my father and take the

throne for himself. Under Governor Renyu’s command, the merfolk army has grown strong and powerful, while I fear the reverse can be said of ours. We are a peaceful nation, unaccustomed to battle, which is why we appealed to the Celestial Kingdom for aid.”

Would we have to fight the merfolk underwater? My

stomach twisted at the thought. Like many Celestials, I had not learned how to swim—what need was there when we

could fly? Once, in my childhood, I had fallen into the river near my home. Cold water had pressed all around me,

clogging my nose and mouth. I had flailed, kicking out—my frantic movements only dragging me deeper into the river’s embrace. It was my mother who had plunged into the water, pulling me out. She had scolded me in a trembling tone, even as her arms wrapped tight around me, the

comforting beat of her heart silencing the last of my terror. How sharp the remembered fear which pierced me now.

But I pushed it aside to say, “Celestial soldiers are unused to being underwater. If there is a battle, we should try to draw the merfolk to land.”

Something flashed across Prince Yanxi’s face, akin to surprise. “Indeed. We would be greatly disadvantaged underwater. The merfolk are excellent swimmers and are accustomed to the darkness. However, they will be

reluctant to challenge us on land. We will need a plan.”

King Yanzheng leaned forward. “The captain and his troops just arrived today. We are being inhospitable,

keeping them here when they need to settle themselves.” His smile was gracious and warm. “Captain Wenzhi, we have planned a banquet tonight in your honor. I hope you will grace us with your presence, along with First Archer Xingyin.”

“We would be honored.” Captain Wenzhi hesitated, his throat working. “Your Majesty, the library of the Fragrant

Coral Palace is renowned throughout the Immortal Realm.

May I have your permission to visit it? I hope to learn what I can about the merfolk to aid us.”

The king inclined his head. “An attendant will bring you there whenever you wish.”

As Captain Wenzhi and I left the hall, I grinned at him.

“‘First Archer?’ ‘The highest ranked archer in our army?’” I repeated his earlier words back to him. “Does this mean

we’re closer in rank now?”

He shot me an exasperated glare. “It’s not an official position as you’re not an official recruit. And since when have our ranks mattered to you?”

I laughed, not protesting his claim. I had never been

disrespectful to him, but neither had I treated him with the deference his position called for.

Without breaking his stride, he continued, “You are the first ranked archer in the army. Although, if you slack off and lose your position—you’ll have to make do with ‘Second’ or ‘Third Archer,’ which sounds a lot less

impressive.”

“Hah!” I was stung by his insinuation. “Care to challenge me yourself?” He was known to be a skilled archer and yet, the moment the words left my mouth, I wanted to snatch

them back. They evoked too many unsettling memories . . . of a peach blossom forest, of someone I desperately wanted to forget.

A shadow of a smile formed upon his lips. “Not with the bow. But you’re welcome to try me on any other weapon.”

I did not reply, forcing myself onward, one step after the other, as silence fell between us now.

He stopped by the entrance doors, tilting his head as he scrutinized me. “You look pale. Tired. You’ve been training

too hard. Why don’t you return to the camp and rest? I’ll go to the library to see if I can find anything of use.” He

gestured to the waiting attendant who hurried over at once.

“I’m fine,” I protested, eager to visit the library, too. But he stared at me unrelentingly until I nodded. I could not

defy his order in front of the attendant.

“I’ll tell you what I find,” he said, perhaps seeing my crestfallen face. “Rest, while you can. Tonight, will be a long affair.”