A deep scent infiltrated my senses, opulent and sweet like a gilded forest. Sandalwood, my mind whispered, roused
from the fog that enveloped it. My eyes flicked open.
Sitting up, I pressed my fingers to my throbbing head—the ache worsening as I stared at the room with its mahogany furniture, green marble floor, and gold silk hangings.
Tendrils of fragrant smoke coiled from a three-legged
incense burner. Something cold seared my hands and when I glanced down, I recoiled. Dark metal bracelets encircled my wrists, crafted from the same material used to bind
Liwei in the Eternal Spring Forest. I tried to slide them off, but they stuck fast, endless circles of immutable metal with neither clasp nor hinge. I grasped at my energy, yet it
evaded my hold—just as when my powers were untrained. Just as in Shadow Peak.
Fear clouded me as I stumbled to the doors, tugging at them. Locked. I sank onto a barrel-shaped stool, anger
kindling in the pit of my stomach. Was I a prisoner? Was my magic bound? Where was Liwei? Wenzhi? And what of the pearls? My hands shook as I untied my pouch, shaking its contents onto the table. My jade flute rolled out, along with Prince Yanming’s paper dragon. I dashed to the bed and threw the covers aside, peering beneath furniture, flinging
open chests and drawers. But there was no sign of the pearls or my bow.
I recalled the glacial hue of Wenzhi’s pupils, the whisper in the wind before I lost consciousness. Was he possessed
by some malevolent spirit? Impersonated by one? Was he in danger, too? My chest tightened, even as a revolting
suspicion crept up the fringes of my mind.
The doors slid open. My head jerked up. A young girl entered, carrying a tray. Taken aback by my grim expression, she hesitated before bowing hastily. “My lady, you’re awake. I’ll . . . I’ll inform His Highness at once.”
She dropped the tray onto the table and hurried away, shutting the doors behind her.
“Wait!” I ran to the doors and yanked at them to no avail, shouting after her, “What is this place? Who is ‘His
Highness’?”
There was no reply, just her footsteps fading to silence.
I sat upon the stool again, restraining the urge to pound the table in frustration. For want of anything to do, I lifted
the lid off the porcelain bowl, staring with disinterest at the clear broth drizzled with golden sesame oil. Its warm,
savory aroma wafted into my nostrils, but I pushed the bowl aside.
A breeze slipped into the room, cutting through the
cloying incense. I ran to the window, inhaling great gulps of fresh air. The sun shone brightly, though the ground below was obscured by violet clouds. Iridescent tiles shimmered
from the roof with a rainbow-like sheen. I peered closer at the obsidian walls, noticing ridges in them deep enough to grip onto. Hiking up my skirt, I swung a foot through the window—only to slam against an invisible barrier as hard as rock.
Gritting my teeth, I grabbed at my energy with more force than before. But the flecks of light darted away as
though scattered by the wind. I searched the room again, emptying out the contents of the drawers and cupboards,
leaving silk and brocade strewn in my wake, books piled
upon the floor. If I had to fight my way out of here, I needed to arm myself—with the leg wrenched from the table if
need be. Rifling through a box filled with jewelry, I dug out all the hairpins, placing two in my hair and sliding the rest into the sash around my waist.
The doors creaked behind me. I steeled myself as I whirled around, a gold pin tucked in my palm. Wenzhi
stepped into the room, dressed in a green brocade robe embroidered with autumn leaves, their hue shifting from crimson to gold. His dark hair was pulled through a jade
ring, falling over his shoulder. Heat fired in my veins at the sight of his eyes, no longer black but that strange silvery hue. An imposter! I hurled the hairpin at his face and raced toward the entrance. He spun to the side, catching me
around my waist as I struggled and kicked at him. My foot landed hard against his thigh, his body tensing, even as his
arm tightened around me. As I bent my knee to drive it into his stomach, he struck it down deftly. Frantic now, I shoved the flat of my palms against his chest, rearing away from him—as the back of my head slammed against the wall.
Stupid, my mind hissed through the pain, sparks flashing across my eyes.
I blinked in a dazed manner, then let my body go limp like I had fainted. One of his arms slid around my shoulders, the other below my knees as he swung me up, holding me tight. He carried me a short way, before laying me down on the bed. My eyes shut, I sensed with startling clarity his
callused fingertips brushing my skin, smoothing the hair from my face with unexpected tenderness. Recoiling
inwardly, I kept my expression slack, even as I groped for a hairpin from my sash. As a shadow fell over me, I tensed in alarm—my eyes flying open as I yanked the pin free,
stabbing at him. His fingers locked around my wrist,
trapping the sharp point a hair’s breadth from his neck.
His lips curved up. “Xingyin, how bloodthirsty you are this morning.”
Something cold slithered down my spine. His deep voice curled into my ear with aching familiarity, yet he was a stranger to me now. As he pried the carved silver pin from my grasp with his other hand, I thrashed against his grip with renewed force.
His hands fell away, his smile vanishing. “Don’t be afraid.”
“Your eyes . . .” I choked out, scrambling upright, my knees pressed to my chest. How brilliantly they glittered, just as those of Lady Hualing’s. A shiver rippled through me. Until I knew what he was capable of, I would have to tread cautiously.
He shrugged as though it were of no matter. “A disguise.
To avoid unnecessary questions.” “Who are you?” I demanded.
“The same person you’ve known all this time. The same person I’ve always been around you.”
My voice hardened. “No word games. Tell me who you are.”
He studied me intently. “Did I not accept you, when you revealed yourself as the daughter of the Moon Goddess?
Xingyin, you and I know everything that matters about each other.”
There was a twisting sensation in my gut of a pawn who had been played. Everything he said was a defense or
delay, calculated to temper my anger and prick my conscience. To link us together, to make us seem one and the same. Whatever he had done must be terrible indeed.
“Don’t even compare us,” I seethed. “My deceit did not
touch you, while you . . . you have locked me up and stolen my possessions.”
His jaw clenched as he turned away, striding toward the window.
“What is this place?” I asked, hating the quiver in my voice. This new uncertainty I felt around him, this fear. “My home. The Cloud Wall.” A warmth glided into his
tone, a moment before it turned cool once more. “Although others prefer to call it the Demon Realm. A clever ploy by the Celestials to brand us as the enemy, to be reviled and
feared even by those we’ve never encountered.”
Impossible. This could not be the Demon Realm. And he was no Demon—they were forbidden from the Celestial Kingdom. Surely someone would have sensed him during those years he served with the army.
“Is this a joke?” I leapt up from the bed, my elbow
knocking over an enameled vase. It struck the floor hard, the clang reverberating in the room.
The doors flew open, two soldiers raced into the room, clad in black armor edged with bronze. One, with a thin
nose and the pointed chin of a ferret, his taller companion with pale skin and round eyes. Inky tassels fringed the
gleaming spears they clutched. At the sight of Wenzhi, they bowed, the ends of their spears thumping the floor.
“Your Highness, we heard a crash,” the fair one said.
My head darted up as I registered the soldier’s greeting, the serving girl’s earlier words. Was his father really the
Demon King, the conniving monarch whom all Celestials dreaded and despised? I wanted to slump back onto the bed, to close my eyes, hoping this was just a nightmare I would awaken from. But I recalled the dragon’s voice
ringing through my mind, their pearls tingling in my hand, the wind surging in my face as I was borne away . . .
This was no dream.
The soldiers bowed again to Wenzhi, acknowledging a command I had not heard. When they stood upright, they stared at me with blatant curiosity.
“Leave us,” he said coldly. They backed out at once, closing the doors after them.
I clasped my hands, wishing I held a weapon in them. “Your Highness,” I ground out. “How dare you bring me here against my will?”
He leaned against the window frame, facing me now. “Against your will? You agreed to come with me.”
“I did nothing of the sort.”
“You did. You said you would come with me, to my home.” I could barely think through the rage which throttled me.
His deceit made a mockery of our promises to each other. I had believed he was from the Western Sea; never did I
imagine the Demon Realm was his home! Never would I
have agreed to this. My fists clenched but I forced them to loosen; now was not the time to indulge my wrath. He was a liar without par, however knowing this could only help me now.
I needed to find out more.
“How could you do this to me?” My voice was hoarse with swallowed rage.
He crossed the room, taking one of the stools by the table. Lifting the porcelain teapot, he poured out two cups of tea, offering me one just as he used to. I stared at him
stonily, until he raised the cup to his own mouth and drank from it.
He frowned. “Good decision, it’s cold.” A light surge of his power enveloped the cups, the fragrance of jasmine rising as its color morphed from the dull brown of
oversteeped dregs to a rich gold.
“I might have done that myself except I couldn’t. What did you do to me?” I shoved myself off the bed, stretching
my hands out to him, the metal gleaming darkly against my skin.
“Just a precaution, to make sure you don’t do anything foolish.”
An urge to strike him gripped me. “The stupidest thing I ever did was to trust you. How did you get past the wards
of the Celestial Kingdom? Why the farce of joining the army? Why did you bring me here?”
“So many questions, Xingyin. I’ll answer what I can, if you sit down.” He gestured to the stool beside him.
I glared at him as I lowered myself onto it, my back stiffer than a plank of wood.
“The wards of the Celestial Kingdom aren’t as strong as they once were. Perhaps because they no longer possess the ability to probe their enemies’ thoughts? It was a
simple matter to weaken them further, to conceal myself with magic.”
“You’re one of them. You practice the forbidden arts.” I could not help my shudder.
“Yes, though it is not forbidden here. Here, it is a gift.” “You traitor,” I snarled, recalling the fox spirits that had
broken through the wards and injured Shuxiao. “Don’t you care for the hurt you’ve caused?”
“What of those I saved? The monsters and enemies I helped the Celestial Kingdom vanquish?” he countered.
“But we talk in circles now; this will lead nowhere. Did you not keep your own parentage a secret, Xingyin? You, more than anyone, should understand the position I was in.” His tone turned mocking. “Don’t be so righteous. Your loyalties don’t lie with the Celestial Kingdom.”
My fragile hold over my emotions snapped. “Whatever I did, I was no spy. I had to protect my family. My life. At no time did I endanger anyone other than myself.” I added
scathingly, “What of your loyalties? How well you
pretended to care for Celestial soldiers when you were inwardly rejoicing at their wounds.”
His aura thickened, churning as storm clouds. “I always
cared for those under my command, I mourned for each life lost. But I did what I had to. It did not matter whether I
liked it.”
“As you did with me.”
“What?” he said sharply, seemingly taken aback. “No— not that. Never.”
“Then, why?” I probed, glimpsing a chink in his composure.
I did not think he would answer me and even if he did, I expected more lies. Yet when he spoke, there was such
tension locked in his body, whatever he was thinking affected him deeply.
“The second son of the king has few opportunities here. Everything was given to my half-brother, Wenshuang. Even though he was less capable and his powers inferior to mine
—without the slightest talent in our magic, the pillar of our might. Yet he was named the Crown Prince for no other
reason than he was the firstborn.” His mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “So, I went to my father and we made a bargain. Not much different from the one you struck with
the emperor.”
“All this, just to take your brother’s position?” I uttered
with disbelief. Perhaps a part of me hoped that he had been driven to this against his will. But greed and ambition . . . I did not think such things spurred him so. He was not who I believed him to be; there was no honor in him. Yet that spark of ruthlessness, that desire to win at all costs had always been there—if only I had recognized it for the
unfettered ambition it was.
His fingers squeezed the cup on the table, his knuckles white with strain. “You know nothing of my half-brother.”
“I didn’t even know you had a brother.”
“Beyond our shared blood, he’s no kin of mine. Ever since we were young, he has showed me nothing but cruelty and hate. Such suffering I endured at his hands—the beatings, punishments, and insults. I could do nothing against him,
not because I was weaker, but because he was the heir. The few loyal attendants and friends I had in my youth were
taken away by him, too, and I learned not to show anyone
my favor. The only way I could protect myself and those I cared for was to rise above him and claim the throne.”
I quashed a spurt of pity, trying to ignore the rawness in his tone. Who knew if these were more lies to elicit my sympathy? My eyes bored into his as I asked, “What does this have to do with the Celestial Kingdom? The pearls?
Me?”
“My father’s dream is to overthrow the Celestial Kingdom. His hatred of the emperor runs deep. For
vilifying our magic and turning the Immortal Realm against us. For those we lost in the war. But we could not break the truce; we were not strong enough to defeat them and their allies.”
“Your magic is despicable.” Rash words, spurred by the memory of Liwei’s torment under Lady Hualing’s control. My own struggles with Governor Renyu.
“No, it is not. Our magic can heal ailments of the minds, soothe misery, uncover lies, detect ill intent. It can be used in despicable ways—just as Water, Fire, Earth, and Air have been channeled into grotesque acts of death and destruction. It is easily maligned because it’s the least
understood of the Talents. Most of all, because it is feared by those in power—the emperor and his allies.”
“To control someone’s mind, to take their will away, is a vile thing.”
His face darkened. “This magic was rarely exercised
before the war, not tolerated even among us—until we were forced to use it to defend ourselves. Don’t blame the instrument, but the one who directs its tune. Perhaps this was the emperor’s intent to solidify his power in the
Immortal Realm. There is no greater unity than a common danger. If so, he has created a self-fulfilling prophecy, one which will be his undoing. Hounding us into exile only
made us stronger, giving us a cause. And in a war, the lines between right and wrong are blurred.”
My thoughts wound and tangled together. Between him and the emperor, I trusted neither. Or was it simply
Wenzhi’s skill that made me feel this way, his ability to twist things until I could no longer discern the head from its tail?
When I remained silent, he continued, “I promised my father that if he named me heir, I would help him overthrow the Celestial Kingdom. I would seek out the most powerful weapon against its emperor—one he feared so greatly, he
locked it away in the Mortal Realm.”
“The dragons,” I said in a strangled whisper. “You took their pearls from me. What will you do with them?”
He shrugged. “Perhaps they would be glad to avenge themselves against the one who imprisoned them for so long.”
“Never!” I cried. “You heard what they said. The dragons are peace-loving. They allowed themselves to be
imprisoned to avoid bloodshed. They will die if you force them to do such a thing.”
My words fell on deaf ears. His face was set with icy determination, hewn from stone. Ignoring the writhing in my chest, I pressed on. I had to learn how deep his
treachery lay. “The ore from Shadow Peak. You took it to forge these?” I thrust the bracelets before him.
“We needed to defend ourselves, however we could.” “In the Eastern Sea, did you orchestrate the merfolk
rebellion?”
His lips clamped into thin lines. “A seed planted that bore more trouble than it was worth. I had long wanted to visit
the library of the Eastern Sea, but they are fiercely
protective of their knowledge. Particularly of anything related to the dragons. Our spies told us of their
complacent forces and the ambitious governor. We
arranged for the pendant to be gifted to Governor Renyu to sow discord, knowing the Eastern Sea would call upon the Celestial Kingdom for aid at the first sign of unrest. Who
could refuse a favor to a savior? But the governor’s plans
went beyond what we intended. We did not want him to
usurp the Eastern Sea throne, to cast his ambition toward the Four Seas. Our enmity lies with the Celestial Kingdom alone.”
I forced myself to listen with a detached calm, though it sickened me to think he had feigned such concern over
those struck down that day. I dared not ponder his answers too deeply; I would not be able to restrain myself if I did.
Glancing up, I found his gaze upon me—pale, gleaming gray. Something stirred in me, an elusive echo of
recognition. That of the archer in the forest, the one with the silver eyes who had shot at me so relentlessly.
“You attacked me! In the pagoda.” I almost folded over from the pain slashing my heart. “It was you behind Princess Fengmei’s abduction.”
He looked away then. Was it with shame or guilt? “I warned you not to go. I was trying to protect you. I only
shot at you to keep you safe—to keep you in the pagoda,
away from the ambush. And if you were injured, you might leave to safety.”
His black feathered arrow had indeed struck down my attacker, yet it did nothing to appease my rage. “How could you? Do you know the hell we went through there?”
He inhaled a ragged breath. “I ordered Lady Hualing not to harm you. She agreed—but you, Xingyin, have a knack of evoking strong emotions in those you meet. To both your
benefit and detriment.”
I flinched from the intimate way he spoke to me. “An
honorable plan,” I congratulated him with blazing scorn.
“Abducting an innocent girl and manipulating the pain of an embittered immortal, getting her to do your bidding
without staining your hands. Have you no shame?”
His face tightened at my taunt. “My decades of service, gaining access to the innermost circle of power in the
Celestial Kingdom, had not yielded the key to the dragons.
My father was impatient, so I decided to return and deliver him a gift in lieu of them.”
“Liwei.” A pang struck me at the thought of him. Had he made his way back to the Celestial Kingdom? Was he
wondering where I was?
Wenzhi sighed. “Either would have sufficed: the Crown Prince’s lifeforce or the collapse of the alliance with the Phoenix Kingdom. It was a pity you destroyed Lady Hualing’s ring. My father was most displeased at its loss.”
Something in me shattered at his lack of remorse, the
last of . . . whatever scrap of hope I still clung to that this was not him, that this was not real. Everything I had done since leaving my mother, everything I had accomplished
seemed to be tainted by his wickedness.
Bile rose in my throat—hot, bitter, acrid. I fought for calm, failing miserably as my rage erupted. I swung my palm into his cheek with every bit of strength I could
muster. He did not flinch or block me as his head snapped to one side with a resounding crack. My hand stung like fire, though the red imprint left on his skin gave me a fierce satisfaction.
“Xingyin, I know you’re angry. But don’t hit me again.” “Angry? There’s no word to describe how I feel right now.
How much I despise you.”
He leaned closer to me, his voice dropping to a sinuous whisper. “It was your choice to make. You took the pearls
from the dragons. Don’t deny that you wanted their power, too.”
I flinched from the undeniable truth he spoke, but he was wrong about me. Yes, I wanted their power. But not for the reasons he craved. Yet my chest caved then at a sudden realization. “Did you pretend to care for me because you knew the Jade Dragon Bow’s heritage? Because you
suspected I could control it . . . and through it, the dragons?”
“No.” He spoke without hesitation. “I can’t deny I was intrigued by your connection with the bow. And what I
learned in the Eastern Sea gave me a reason to keep you close. At first as an ally, and then—” A dull flush spread across his face. “What exists between us began before that.
The first time I watched you shoot was when you moved
something in me. I did not expect to feel what I did. It was partly why I decided to give up on the pearls and return home. I wanted no more lies between us.”
Even now, a part of me ached at his confession, but I
would not let it show. He would never know how much he had hurt me.
He continued, “I almost wish the emperor had not given you this task. I never wanted to set myself against you. Yet as fate would have it, during your audience with the emperor, he revealed the one thing for which I had been waiting all these years. A fortuitous coincidence which I
could not ignore.”
“Not so fortuitous for me.” I searched his face, but there was no sign that doing this to me had hurt him, too. “You knew I needed the pearls to save my mother. You knew
what I went through to get them, and still you took them from me.” I fought to steady myself, to make one last appeal. “If you care for me as you say you do, give me the pearls and let me go.”
With one step he closed the distance between us,
dragging me into his arms. Against my burning skin, his hands were like ice. “The pearls are essential for my people’s future, so we can throw off the perpetual threat of the Celestial Kingdom. With the dragons at our command, we’ll defeat them easily. Once that happens, I swear I’ll find a way to release your mother. We will have everything we ever wanted, that we never dreamed possible. Family, power, and each other. All you need to do is trust me.”
I wrenched free of his hold. My skin crawled from his
touch when just a day ago I had yearned for him. His vision
of our future . . . how it repelled me. “I gave the dragons my word. My promise means something to me, even if yours means nothing to you.” I could have said more. I
could have raged, yelled, and cursed at him, but an aching weariness gripped me now, a sickness of the heart. I turned from him, wanting him to leave, unable to bear his
presence a moment longer.
His sigh was heavy, cloaked in regret. “Take your time to think things through. Either way, you’ll not leave here.” He strode to the doors and tugged them apart. “It’s useless to try to escape. If you persist in acting the fool, I’ll have no
choice but to treat you as one.”
The doors closed after him. My anger roiling over, I snatched his cup and hurled it at the wall, the delicate
porcelain shattering into countless fragments—impossible to ever be made whole again.
