Shuxiao slipped into the chair across from me, setting her tray of food on the wooden table. Her eyes slid around the large dining hall, already crowded with soldiers hunched over their morning meal. “Princess Fengmei has been
abducted,” she said in hushed tones.
My spoon fell into my bowl, splattering congee onto the table. “How? When? By whom?” The questions rolled off my tongue. This must be why Liwei and Wenzhi had been
called away yesterday.
“All I heard is Prince Liwei will be leading the rescue.”
Beneath the table, my hand gripped my knee. If not for yesterday, this news would not have affected me so. Yet he had kissed me as though I was the only one in his heart.
Such tender words he had spoken . . . and now, he was
risking himself to save his betrothed? An engagement he claimed he had not wanted? A cold, prickling sensation
slithered tight around my chest. I breathed in and then out, trying to unravel its hold. I was behaving like a selfish child. As her betrothed and ally, who else but he should go?
“I wish him every success. I hope he brings her back
safely.” If my words came out a little hollow, I was at least glad that I meant them.
“To spirit the princess away is no easy feat. I wonder who
—” Shuxiao’s voice cut off abruptly.
General Jianyun stood before us with his arms folded. We leapt up at once to greet him.
“Lieutenant Shuxiao, I don’t need to know where you
heard this from, but I want an end to this discussion, or any other regarding this matter. Is that clear?” he commanded.
She shot me a panicked look before replying with uncharacteristic meekness, “Yes, General Jianyun.”
He glanced at me then. “First Archer Xingyin, follow me.
I must speak with you.”
I stared at him in surprise until Shuxiao kicked my shin, the pain breaking my daze as I hastened after him.
“The news is true,” he said without preamble, as he sat behind his rosewood desk. “Queen Fengjin is distraught.
The abductor sent terms, demanding that she break off the alliance with us. Warning that her daughter would be
shown no mercy should any attempt be made to rescue her. Which is why it falls upon us to save her.”
“Was it the Demon Realm?” I asked.
“We suspect so, though we have no evidence. Regardless, our priority is to retrieve Princess Fengmei safely. His Highness will lead a small team to rescue her, no more than a dozen soldiers to avoid detection. Given the threat,
discretion is crucial to not jeopardize the princess’s safety.”
He tapped the table in a steady rhythm. “Prince Liwei has requested that you join the rescue.”
I could not have been more astonished if a bolt of
lightning had struck me from the cloudless sky. At a loss for words, I struggled against the emotions that swelled within
—tangling and twisting, burning, yet cold. But one thing was clear: I did not want to do this.
His expression darkened, perhaps reading the refusal in my face. “While I cannot command you to do this, I strongly urge you to. For the kingdom. Our alliance. Nothing matters more.”
His argument did not sway me; I was neither so noble nor valiant. It was not the physical danger which repelled me,
but the hurt to my heart and pride. This was not worth the rewards the Celestial Kingdom had to offer, those I had
already declined. “There are many others more suitable, more skilled than me,” I said.
“With the bow?” It was Liwei who spoke, from where he stood in the doorway. I had not heard him arrive.
As General Jianyun rose to greet him, I followed suit, quelling the leap in my chest. I would not linger on what had happened between us; it was no more than a
momentary lapse. Perhaps being in the Courtyard of
Eternal Tranquility had clouded our minds with memories. And now, we were plunged deeper into a new reality, one where Liwei and I would drift further apart until we could never find our way back to each other again.
“With Your Highness, himself, leading the rescue, surely you have all the skills you need.” This was what a courtier might say, hoping to flatter the prince—if not for the edge in my tone.
Liwei crossed the room to stand before me. “Not all. You surpassed me in archery a long time ago, as we both know.”
When I did not reply, he took one of the chairs opposite General Jianyun and motioned for me to do the same. I sat stiffly beside him, wishing I were anywhere but here.
“Continue, General Jianyun,” Liwei said.
“We believe Princess Fengmei is being held in the Eternal Spring Forest, close to the mountains south of the Phoenix Kingdom. That was the last trace we had of her.”
The name struck a chord in me. “Was that the home of Lady Hualing, the previous Flower Immortal? Before she disappeared?”
He nodded grimly. “Since then, the forest has been veiled from sight by a strange magic. No one has ventured there for centuries. We don’t know what other dangers lurk there
in addition to the hostile forces holding the princess.
Stealth and subterfuge will be crucial, as will your skills.”
General Jianyun expected me to accept with grace. I
would not. Some might think me unkind, but I could not so easily cast my feelings aside. My own desires mattered, too. Guilt pricked me at the thought of Princess Fengmei’s peril, but I was not so arrogant to imagine I was the only one who could perform this task.
I stood, raising my cupped hands and bowing from my waist. “General Jianyun, you promised that I would have
the freedom to choose my assignments. I refuse this one.”
He scowled, his mouth opening to rebuke me—but Liwei interjected, “May I speak with Xingyin, alone?”
The general threw a forbidding look my way, before bowing to Liwei and leaving the room.
“Would you like to sit?” Liwei asked, after a moment’s silence.
“I prefer to stand.” I was eager to leave at the first
opportunity, determined to avoid any further intimacy with him.
He sighed as he rose to join me. Part of me cringed from the absurdity of our situation. Only yesterday he had pulled me into his arms with such passion, and now he was asking me to rescue his betrothed. Anger flared in me, hot and fierce.
“Do you care so little for my feelings?” I could not help asking, hating myself for it, too.
“I must do this,” he said. “If we fail, if any harm befalls Princess Fengmei—not only would it be a great tragedy, but it would tilt the Phoenix Kingdom toward the Demon Realm, strengthening them and weakening us, immensely.
With this advantage the Demon Realm would be tempted to break the peace, to go to war with us again.”
“I understand. But why do I need to go with you? There are countless competent warriors you could choose from, who would be honored to accompany you.”
“Because there’s no one I trust more than you.” His eyes held mine. “Too many things have been happening of late. Fox spirits coming through our wards. Archer Feimao’s affliction. And now, this. The princess was taken on her way to the Celestial Kingdom. Only those in the inner circles of our courts knew of this trip. Which means there is a traitor either in the Phoenix Kingdom or here,” he concluded
gravely. “I meant what I said about your skill. This will be dangerous, and we’ll need every advantage we can gather.”
When I did not reply, he added in a low voice, “I’m
placing you in an impossible situation. You must hate me.” My head pounded beneath the weight of my indecision.
To be tasked with saving Liwei’s betrothed both unsettled and hurt me. I wanted her to be rescued, but I also wanted no part of it. And a small voice inside me whispered that if the Celestial Kingdom should fall, perhaps my mother
would be free . . .
I flinched from the vile thought. I had friends here whom I cared for, who would suffer if it came to war. And what if the Demon Realm ascended to supremacy? While I no longer believed them to be the monsters I had dreaded— neither did I trust their king who seemed as ruthless as the Celestial Emperor, particularly if he had kidnapped Princess Fengmei to force the queen’s capitulation. Dare I lay our fates in such hands? If I had learned anything over
these years, it was that no one won in a war, not even those who thought they did.
Princess Fengmei’s face flashed through my mind now— not the royal wearing the golden cloak of feathers I had
seen from afar, but the girl I had met in Liwei’s courtyard. Could I not treat this as any other task I had accepted before? If not for our past, I would have leapt at this
chance to aid the Celestial Crown Prince and the Phoenix Princess. It was a rare opportunity, one which would
undoubtedly gain the emperor’s attention—possibly
bringing me within reach of the Crimson Lion Talisman and
averting a disastrous war. And beyond that, could I truly refuse to help Liwei? No matter what, he was still my friend.
A hundred considerations twisted and wound through me, now all tugging me in the same direction. I would go with Liwei. Not from duty or obligation, but to protect him
—my friend—and those I cared for in the Celestial Kingdom. To help save the innocent girl I had spoken with. And if this did not win His Celestial Majesty’s favor and the talisman I craved—nothing ever would. This would be my final step along this path before I began anew, and I would leave with a cleared conscience.
I met his gaze. “I’ll go with you.” “Thank you.”
As he took a step toward me, I moved away. “I’ll go with you,” I repeated. “However, I ask that you conduct yourself within the bounds of propriety from now . . . as though our past does not exist.” These cold words stung me, too, but I could not allow another moment of weakness to muddle my resolve.
“What if you’re improper toward me?” A shadow of a smile formed on his lips.
How easily he slipped back into being my teasing friend of the past. But I could not allow even that. “We cannot
continue this way,” I said in a low voice, trying to stifle the lingering desire which slid into me at his nearness, the
guilt and shame that burned a hole in my stomach. “I will help you and Princess Fengmei. But you have your honor and I have mine. And there is none to be found in what we did. You are betrothed now—your heart is hers.” The
memory of our kiss flitted through me, unbidden. Our last— I told myself fiercely—a door closed, a final farewell.
His face was ash and shadow, his eyes stripped of light. It was then, I knew I had done it . . . severed the last frayed
thread of our bond. He was silent as he inclined his head to me, before walking away. I did not look up, not wanting to
see him leave. My words had struck true—a fatal blow, a swift death. Yet it was a hollow triumph, leaving a bitterness in my mouth and a clawing ache in my chest.
Sleep evaded me that night. Plagued by restlessness, I
clambered up the pillars outside my room. A gentle breeze stirred the air as I sat on the cold jade roof tiles, staring at the sky. The moon shone down through the darkness, its
light gentle and soft.
Something rustled—Wenzhi, pulling himself over the ledge. He flicked his outer robe aside as he sank down beside me.
“I waited for you today.”
“I’m sorry. Today was . . . eventful.” I hated the way my words stumbled as though I had something to hide. Oh, you do, my mind whispered.
“I can’t go with you to the border,” I told him.
His jaw tightened, yet he showed no surprise. Had he already been briefed by General Jianyun?
“Don’t go with Prince Liwei.” He spoke with sudden
urgency. “It’s too dangerous. Immortals shun the Eternal Spring Forest for good reason. Since Lady Hualing’s disappearance, rumors abound of the place—of dark enchantments and hostile creatures, of misery and death.”
I shrugged with an indifference I did not feel. “I’ve faced monsters, by your side, no less.”
His sigh misted the cool air. “Don’t you have any regard for your own safety?”
I frowned, a little surprised by his insistence. “How is this more dangerous than Xiangliu? Governor Renyu? Or the
Bone Devil?” I rattled off, trying to ease his concern.
“Because I won’t be there. What if something happened to you?” He paused, “Don’t you care how I feel?”
His concern touched me, though I would not be swayed. “I do. But I can take care of myself. Regardless, it’s been decided. We leave tomorrow.”
“Why do this?” he demanded. “It doesn’t matter what General Jianyun commands when we’ll soon leave this place. Why endanger yourself needlessly? Surely it’s not out of loyalty to the Celestial Kingdom.”
I pulled my back straight, needled by his words. I could
protect myself. In the past, I had come to his aid as often as he came to mine. And his taunt that I bore no loyalty to the Celestial Kingdom . . . I needed no reminder for that. I
served here because I had believed this would lead to my mother’s freedom. The training I received, the reputation I built, the lives I took—all this was a means to an end, as
had been my entire time here.
Yet I heard, too, the worry which wrenched his voice. I tried to explain. “I’m not doing this because I was
commanded to. Prince Liwei asked me to help him. I could not refuse.”
Wenzhi’s face darkened. “Are you still in love with him? Is that why you’re risking your life to save someone you care nothing for? Have you forgotten that he left you for
another?” His harsh words lashed out like a whip.
I stared at him, anger searing my veins. He knew nothing of Liwei and me. More than our doomed love, Liwei was my friend—my only friend when I had none and those roots
went far deeper than my disappointment and hurt. His kindness to me was a debt I owed him, one I would repay.
“How can you say that to me?” I seethed. “I’m no lovesick puppet, begging for a morsel of affection. I have my own dreams, my own principles, my own honor to uphold.” In no mood to explain myself further, I scrambled to my feet to leave.
“Wait, Xingyin—”
His tone was cracked by a note of despair. I halted but did not turn.
He spoke so quietly that I strained to hear. “I’m sorry. I should not have said that. I was disappointed and . . .
jealous.” He exhaled deeply. “I thought we had come to an
understanding yesterday. Was I wrong? Did you not grasp my meaning then? My hopes for our future?”
My heart softened, despite the anger which simmered in me still. All Wenzhi had seen was my despair over Liwei’s engagement, and it was little wonder that he was resentful now. A hard confession for him to make, though it did not give him the right to speak to me so.
I swung around, holding his gaze. “Wenzhi, you must
trust in my judgment as I do in yours. Do not try to insult or guilt me into doing what you think I should do. How will we have a future together if you do not see me as your equal?” “You are my equal. More than my equal.” Wenzhi pushed
himself to his feet, clasping my hand in his strong grip. “I just don’t want you to be hurt.”
The wind grew stronger, blowing my hair across my cheek. As I shivered, Wenzhi slid off his outer coat, draping it over my shoulders as his arm pulled me close. “Promise me you’ll keep yourself safe. That you won’t do
anything . . . too reckless,” he whispered into my ear.
An urge to laugh rippled through me, dispersing my ire. He knew me well, to say such a thing. And I knew him well enough to sense how he restrained himself from saying more.
The fresh scent of pine needles wafted in the air, kindling a light in my heart which banished the lingering shadows.
My feelings for Wenzhi were strong, though different from mine with Liwei before. Perhaps the blazing, all-consuming passion I had known with Liwei was the headiness of a first love, suffused with the foolish innocence that nothing could tear us apart. For those that came after, one tread a little slower, a little warier—after hearts had been bruised and promises broken. And perhaps, the growing warmth of my feelings for Wenzhi was what all love evolved to.
I rested my head against his shoulder, the last of my
tension easing away. “I promise. And when I return, we’ll leave this place together.”
We stood there in silence, his arm tightening around me the only sign he had heard my answer. For the first time
today, I was at peace. An urge gripped me to spill my secrets to him, but not tonight, not here. In the Celestial
Kingdom my guard was always up. One day when we were far from this place, I would tell him of my mother.
How dark the night that stretched before us, yet ablaze with the light of the moon and stars, it felt as bright as day.
