I could not let Liwei and the Celestial Army walk into the deadly trap which awaited them. I could not let them die because of me.
What could I do to prevent it? If I had my magic and the Jade Dragon Bow, I might have taken my chances and
stormed out. But powerless, weaponless, friendless—my hope of escaping was as slender as a mouse trapped in a tiger’s claws. For now, I had only my wits to depend on.
And I reminded myself, not every battle could be won with brute force; sometimes it was water that could wear down stone.
I had lashed out at Wenzhi as a child would—hurt, angry, and rash. My defiance only roused his suspicions of me,
which made escape harder. I needed to convince him I had a change of heart to get him to lower his guard. Only then might I recover the pearls and escape. But he would not be easily duped. Tears might be useful, except Wenzhi had
seen me slay monsters without flinching. Pleading would
not work; his ambition was pitiless. Nor would it be easy to lie to him, he knew me too well. At least, he thought he did
—anger searing me as I recalled his arrogant assumptions. How could he ever imagine that I would fall in with his vile plans?
But perhaps I could use what he knew of me against him, to let him think he had swayed me to his side. He had tried to use my mother’s freedom to tempt me. He believed I
would do anything to save her, just as he had done to
secure his position. He was wrong, I was not like him. My honor was precious to me, and I knew it was precious to my mother, too.
It was dark still, yet I threw aside the covers and rose to ready myself, my stomach churning as it always did the
morning of a battle. This time, however, I had no weapons beyond smiles and words, neither of which I was adept at wielding. And instead of armor, I would be clad in silk. I
rummaged through the closet, crammed with exquisite garments in vivid colors. How trivial and wrong this felt, to worry about my attire now. Yet a polished outward
appearance would distract from the hollow lies I planned
on uttering. Determined on this course, I pulled out a black robe which suited well my current mood. Feathered cranes were embroidered on its skirt and when I touched a white wing, it fluttered, the bird soaring through the midnight silk. If only I could do the same.
Hours passed, the sun rising higher in the sky, still
Wenzhi did not come. I thought bitterly, perhaps he was too busy planning for the slaughter tomorrow. Setting his traps, plotting and scheming, while all I had accomplished so far was to scrape a sizable hole in the table. No, I could not just sit here and wait when those I cared for were in danger. If he did not come, I would seek him out—before it was too late.
Striding to the doors, I rapped loudly upon them. Muted voices filtered through the silk-lined panel.
“Don’t answer, it’s another trick,” one whispered. “What if she’s hurt or something is wrong?”
Another snorted. “Hurt? We’ll be the ones hurt if we open the doors.”
I scowled to hear their suspicions, well-founded though they were. In my attempts to escape I had clawed, kicked, and cursed them with abandon. Impatient now, I demanded, “I need to see Prince Wenzhi.” His title felt
awkward on my tongue.
Silence greeted my request. Just when I thought they would refuse, that I might have to pound the doors down,
they slid open. A shield shimmered around the six soldiers, their spears thrust toward me.
Even in the bleakness of my predicament, I stifled the urge to laugh. Did they think me so fearsome?
“Could you take me to Prince Wenzhi?” I asked in my sweetest tone, trying not to choke over the words.
The guards exchanged flustered looks. After whispering among themselves, one of them hurried away. Was it in
search of reinforcements? Not long after, a tall, female soldier appeared, stalking down the corridor. Her features were striking, despite the suspicion in her clear, brown eyes. She did not appear anything like the Demons I had
expected from Ping’er’s tales—none of them did. Though I hated to admit it, the word “demon” had altered my perceptions, making me think the worst of them when they were no different from the rest of us.
“I’m Captain Mengqi, of Crown Prince Wenzhi’s personal guard. His Highness left orders not to be disturbed today,” the newcomer announced with grim finality.
But I would not return meekly to my room, in no mood to be so easily deflected. “Prince Wenzhi told me I could see him whenever I wished,” I lied baldly, surprised at my own glibness.
A young, pale-skinned soldier piped up, “His Highness is meditating before the batt–” At the fierce glare from
Captain Mengqi, he shut his mouth and stepped back.
I sighed, smoothing out the nonexistent creases on my skirt. “Prince Wenzhi will be most displeased to learn of
this.” I brightened as though struck by a sudden idea. “Why
don’t you take me to him? If he declines to see me, we can come back right away.”
As the captain’s eyes curved with suspicion, I added,
“Can’t seven armed soldiers restrain one weaponless and powerless captive?” My voice rang with challenge and a hint of scorn, as I raised my wrists to display the cursed metal which encircled them.
With a jerk of her head, Captain Mengqi indicated that I
should follow her. She led the way at a brisk pace, while the other guards trailed after me. With every step I could feel their stares boring into my skull, their spears pointed at my back.
I hurried to keep pace with the captain, studying our path, hoping to find a way out. The heady scent of
sandalwood clung to the air, wafting from the bronze,
incense burners scattered along the corridor. Ornate gold latticework wrapped the ebony pillars, while the green
marble floor was veined with thick streaks of silver.
Through the wooden doors at the end of the corridor, we entered a lush garden. Here, the fragrance of blooming flowers drowned the cloying incense. I paused, turning
around as though entranced, as I hunted for anything I
might exploit. Jasmine was sometimes used as a sedative, but it was too mild. I ripped a few leaves from the gingko tree, said to cause stomach upsets and dizziness—though I
did not know yet what I intended. Despite the abundance of plants and herbs here, I could find nothing else of use, not even a single mushroom with hallucinatory properties. If
only I had been a more attentive student! But then I stilled, glimpsing the blue flowers with pointed petals peeking
through the grass. I had seen these before . . . the first day in the Chamber of Reflection. The memory of our irate instructor surfaced in my mind, and that of Liwei
pretending to fall asleep. Crouching down, I plucked one, pretending to admire it while I bruised its petals between my fingers until they were sticky with juice. As I breathed
in its scent, a drowsiness settled over me. I dropped it at once, wiping my hands on my skirt. Star-lilies. Mixed with wine, they could send anyone into the deepest slumber.
Behind me, a soldier cleared his throat impatiently. I glanced up to find Captain Mengqi had already left the garden. I was glad for it as she seemed harder to dupe.
Rising, I feigned a stumble—falling and grinding my palm
against a rock until blood streaked across it. As the soldiers stared at it in consternation, my other hand snaked around my back to snatch a fistful of flowers.
“How clumsy of me.” I shot them a rueful smile. Hard to believe that I had uttered my first lie just a few years ago. I had hated lying to Liwei and Shuxiao, but this deceit fired something new in me. An unexpected satisfaction, an inner glee—almost—at fooling my captors, to repay Wenzhi in kind.
I shook the dirt from my skirt, slipping the flowers into my pouch. As a shadow fell over me, I looked up to find a stranger standing before us. His clothes were magnificent, almost ostentatious, studded with precious gems which
winked against the purple brocade. He seemed somewhat familiar with those high cheekbones, his strong jaw and
thin lips. While some might find him attractive, the cunning restlessness in his expression repelled me.
“Your Highness.” The soldiers greeted him with a bow.
Another prince? I thought to myself. Hardly surprising as the Demon King was unwed, rumored to have dozens of concubines, many of whom would be vying for children to secure their influence and position.
He ignored the others; his attention fixed on me. “And who might you be?” His tone was pleasant, but his
yellowish eyes reminded me of a serpent hunting for its prey.
I did not reply, unsure of what to say—certain that I would find no allies here. Fortunately, Captain Mengqi
appeared, striding toward us. She frowned at the sight of the stranger, although she bowed to him respectfully.
“Captain Mengqi. How rare to see you from my younger brother’s side. Can you tell me who she is?” He gestured toward me.
Younger brother? I started, peering closer at him. Was this Prince Wenshuang? Wenzhi’s hated sibling?
“She is Crown Prince Wenzhi’s guest,” Captain Mengqi replied in a level tone.
A sudden menace swept over the man’s face. Had the mention of Wenzhi’s title infuriated him so? And had
Captain Mengqi done it to antagonize him, to avoid our detainment, or both?
Prince Wenshuang cast a dazzling smile at me now, all trace of his ire gone. “I heard news of this. Are you really from the Celestial Kingdom?”
Unsettled by his stare, I nodded tersely.
“Your Highness, forgive us, but we must be on our way.” Captain Mengqi bowed again, her body tensing as she rose.
Prince Wenshuang’s lip curled as he flicked his hand in a dismissive gesture. As we left, I could sense his gaze boring into my back.
We walked through a circular stone gateway into a
courtyard, toward a large building surrounded by pine
trees—tall and evergreen. The air was fresh and sweet, the scent of pine needles mingling with the night breeze . . .
reminiscent of Wenzhi’s own scent, though I quelled the unwanted thought. Black marble pillars flanked the
entrance, carved with a swirling pattern inlaid in gold. The closed doors were solid panels of ebony, giving no hint as to what lay behind them.
Captain Mengqi rapped her knuckles against the wood.
A brief silence, then footsteps tread across the floor. “I gave clear instructions that I was not to be disturbed,” Wenzhi said coldly from within.
The captain glared at me. “I apologize for the intrusion, Your Highness. We will leave at once.”
I would not. “I insisted Captain Mengqi bring me here,” I called out.
He did not reply. I held my breath as Captain Mengqi sighed, the soldiers exchanging anxious glances.
The doors slid open then. Wenzhi stood in the entrance, his dark green robe almost sweeping the floor. His hair fell over his shoulders, loose and unbound. At the sight of me, his eyes widened, before tightening—with suspicion, I thought. Yet, he moved aside, allowing me to enter.
I stepped into his room, hearing the doors shut behind me with an ominous thud. My back pulled straight, I
glanced around the spacious quarters, taking in the stone walls, high ceilings, and tall windows. Gold incense burners flanked the entrance, thankfully unlit, as I was glad for the unscented air. A mahogany bed lay on a raised platform in
the middle of the room, draped with white curtains from its wooden frame. Books and scrolls were piled onto a large desk by the window, which would offer a pleasing view of
the courtyard if it were not shuttered. Several swords were hung on the far side of the room, in scabbards of gold and silver, precious woods and jade. At the sight of them, I stilled, trying to suppress a burst of excitement.
He walked toward me, his gaze pinning me where I stood. My fingers curled, yet I forced them to hang limp against my skirt. If I could keep my composure, if he
believed me ignorant of his plots—I had a chance. But if I revealed my true intentions, I would be locked up once
more with no hope of escape. And that would be the least of my troubles.
His eyes slid from my brocade slippers, along the length of my robe, to the jade comb in my hair. “Why . . . this?
Though the color suits you.” I shrugged. “I was bored.”
A smile played on his lips. “Did you miss me, today?”
I stifled the urge to snarl at him. Harsh words would gain me nothing but a moment’s childish satisfaction, undoing
all my efforts to get here. Instead, I lifted my chin, fixing him with a challenging stare. “Even if I did, I would not admit it.”
“Why are you here, Xingyin?” he asked bluntly.
“I want answers,” I returned in kind. “You have the pearls. The Jade Dragon Bow. I am no longer of use to you. Why keep me here?”
He was silent for a moment, as though trying to decide what to say. “Is it not obvious? My heart remains
unchanged.”
I thought I would feel nothing but loathing for him. Yet his simply spoken confession stirred something in me.
Weak—that was what I was, and I cursed myself for it.
Despite the tenderness of his words, I would never forget the vicious things he had done. He had claimed he cared for me, and then taken everything I held dear. If this was his love, I did not want it.
I looked down at the floor, trying to appear confused.
Torn. Undecided. “What you said before . . . about us. Our future. My mother. Did you mean it?”
He leaned closer to me, so close, a lock of his hair
brushed my cheek. “Are you no longer angry with me?” Though his voice was soft, his stare was watchful and assessing.
I drew a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “I was angry before. Furious. How could I not be after what you had
done?” Lifting my chin, I met his gaze. “But you were right.
What matters most is my mother’s freedom. It’s why I
joined the army, what I’ve worked for all these years. And there’s also—” My voice trailed away then, though I hoped the implication was clear. That he would mistake the heat coloring my cheeks for desire, and not the shame it was.
“You said you could help me free her. How?” I asked
urgently, like I was trying to test his sincerity rather than
convince him of mine. He would not expect a
disadvantaged opponent moving to attack rather than defend. It would be a reckless move, foolish, even. But what did it matter when I had nothing more to lose?
“Once we overthrow the Celestial Kingdom, with the
might of the dragons behind us, nothing will be beyond our reach.” His tone was guarded, though his eyes shone
startlingly bright.
I forced myself to nod, inwardly seething that he believed the dragons were his to command. Even against their will, even though they might die from serving him so. As though it would be a fair battle tomorrow, instead of the devious tactics he had planned to ambush the soldiers who had
fought with him before.
I buried my revulsion in the warm smile on my lips. “Do I have your word?” How it stung, letting him dangle before me the thing I wanted most in the world. More so, because it was still out of my reach.
He blinked slowly, in seeming disbelief. Yet his mind was ever sharp. “Are you willing to sever all your ties with the Celestial Kingdom?” he countered, seeking the slightest crack in my composure.
Did he mean Liwei? I slipped on a mask of indifference.
“The Celestial Kingdom means nothing to me. The emperor imprisoned my mother. The empress treated me with spite and disdain. As for their son—” Here, I let a teasing note
slide into my voice. “Are you still jealous of him? He hurt me once, and I only helped him after because I hoped he
would plead for my mother.” It was what Liwei had accused me of before. Just what Wenzhi might believe given his own lack of scruples.
I stepped closer to him until the silk of our robes grazed. “You were my choice, even before we left to find the dragons. My anger these days past had nothing to do with him, but you—what you did, how you lied to me and broke my trust.” My tone gentled, now low with promise as I
tossed my head back. “Oh, I haven’t forgiven you yet—it will take a while. Though it depends . . .”
“On what?” he wanted to know.
“On whether you can make things right between us.”
He stared at me, his arms folded over his chest. I knew that look of his, deep in thought, weighing each word
spoken against what he knew. Did he recall the coolness
between Liwei and me in the Mortal Realm? My promise to him on the rooftop? The best lies were indeed those
steeped in truth.
Finally, he dropped his arms, his expression softening.
“Stay with me, and I promise to free your mother once we defeat the Celestial Kingdom. Your family will be mine, too.”
He spoke the words with the gravity of a vow, one which would have brought me such joy just days ago—but now,
turned my stomach. Yet hope sparked in me, too, that he had believed my lies. That I still had a chance.
“I will hold you to that.” I drew out each word softly.
His eyes shone molten silver as he raised a hand to
cradle my cheek. Our embrace in the mortal village flashed across my mind, when I had craved his touch and longed for more. But I knew what he wanted of me now, and I
would not give it to him. I could not kiss him again; I was not that good a liar.
“Shall we have a drink? To celebrate?” I suggested then. “If you wish.” He dropped his hand, raising his voice to
call for an attendant, who entered with a deferential bow. “Osmanthus wine,” he told her, recalling my drink of
choice.
Yet such consideration was irrelevant now; I needed
something stronger to mask the bitterness of the star-lilies. My fingers brushed the cool skin of his wrist as I tried not to flinch. “I’m in the mood for something else. Plum wine, maybe?”
He nodded to the attendant, who bowed in
acknowledgment before leaving. As the doors closed
behind her, he took a step toward me, his gaze darkening with intent. My eyes darted around the room, seeking something—anything—to distract his thoughts. A qin lay upon a low table in the corner, a beautiful instrument, the red-lacquered wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
“Do you play?” I asked. A stark reminder that I did not know much of him at all.
“A little.”
“Those who say ‘a little,’ usually mean ‘a lot.’ Are you skilled?” My voice rang with challenge.
The corners of his mouth tilted up. “A little.”
He lowered himself before the instrument, his forehead creased in concentration. His song began in a tantalizing whisper, soft and sweet. As he plucked the strings, his notes rose and fell with haunting beauty. He played with such intensity, such passion, that even with all I knew of him, his music moved me deep inside.
As the last note faded, I brushed my palms against my skirt. The crumpled petals of the star-lilies fell unseen to the floor, their juice squeezed into the wine the attendant had brought. Lifting the porcelain jar, I filled a cup with
wine and offered it to him with both my hands. He accepted it with a smile, but when he lifted it to his lips, he paused.
I raised my cup to him at once, “To the days ahead.”
He accepted my toast, draining his cup. His expression was surprised, perplexed, even. Did he wonder at the taste?
“You play well,” I said, a little too quickly, hoping to divert his attention.
“Not as well as you play the flute.”
The only time he had heard me perform was at Liwei’s banquet, the song I gifted him. Wenzhi had never asked me to play before and I wondered, was it because of this? To
buy precious time, I pulled out my flute, tilting my head toward him in an unspoken question.
“It would be an honor,” he said quietly.
I had not played in a long time. I blew several running notes to reacquaint myself with the instrument, sifting
through my mind for the song I wanted. My breath slid into the hollow jade, measured and calm, the notes soothing
and languid. As I played, I thought of the waterfall in the Courtyard of Eternal Tranquility, the water falling onto the rocks as it lulled me to sleep. Of the moon in the dark sky,
its radiance comforting countless mortals before their eyes closed in slumber. Of the star-lilies, crushed into Wenzhi’s wine, a sleeping draught more potent than a half dozen jars of wine—which even now, was racing through his blood.
His hand clamped over my flute, dragging it from my lips.
My pulse raced as I shot him an innocent look. I wrenched my instrument free from his weakened grasp and dropped it back into my pouch. Hastily, I pulled the qin toward me, strumming the first song I could think of—a vibrant, lively melody. I was out of practice, less skilled than him, but it sufficed to drown his voice from the soldiers outside.
He blinked slowly, as though fighting the wave of fatigue which I prayed would soon drag him under.
“Xingyin, what did you do?” He slurred the words, his furious tone laced with hurt.
“Nothing less than you deserved.” My fingers slid over
the qin, plucking out rippling strains that culminated into a triumphant crescendo, a mockery of his current predicament.
A strangled gasp broke from his throat, as though he was trying to call out to the guards—even as a new melody
flowed from my fingers now, a mournful one with haunting, drawn-out notes which drowned his cries.
“Why?” he rasped.
I cast him a scornful glare. “Did you really think I could
forgive you for all you did? That my promise to the dragons would be so easily broken? That I could betray those I
cared for to fulfill my own ends? I’m not like you.”
He fumbled at his waist but there was no weapon by his side. Again, he tried to call to the guards, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper.
“This won’t change anything.”
“Maybe not,” I hissed, my fingers gliding over the strings without a pause. “But I know all about your trap for the
Celestial Army. I had to do something or I’d never be able to live with myself.”
“They’re already here. It’s too late.” There was a hard set to his mouth as his eyes drooped. “I knew he would come.
For you or the pearls. It mattered not which, but I knew he would come.” His voice dropped to a strained breath. “Just as I suspected you would go to him if you could. I had hoped, but . . .” He weaved where he sat, blinking rapidly before his eyelids sank shut and he slumped onto the floor.
I continued playing until the end of the song; to stop now would invite suspicion. The plaintive melody was a fitting
farewell to all we had lost.
The moment the last note faded, I leapt to my feet. I was not sure how long I had until the draught wore off.
Grabbing a sword from his collection—a white jade hilt studded with rubies—I looked toward the door, only to shake my head. I could not escape before finding the
pearls; I could not leave them in Wenzhi’s keeping. I stole a glance at his still form, his dark green robes spread across the floor, his hair spilling around him like a pool of ink.
Sleep relaxed his stern features, tugging at my conscience, shame sweeping over me in this moment.
That like him, now, deceit came so easily to me.
