I had not been reading between the lines. “With you by my side, I’m confident we can rebuild Anlai for the better,” he’d told me in the secret library. But only now did I grasp the underlying meaning of his words.
During the war, he’d told me he bore no illusions of inheriting the throne. As the seventh and youngest prince, he faced too many obstacles in his path. But in the aftermath of the war, while I’d been locked away and gathering dust in the dungeons, he’d been acclimating to his newfound fame and glory. Indisputably, he’d become the kingpin prince, the one to turn the tide of the war. But not because of his own prowess.
It was because of mine.
I had saved the kingdom, and now he claimed my reward. But why not claim it together? As I gazed out at the hordes of people, shouting not only his name but mine as well, I wondered if I might not leverage my newfound popularity. I could help him. We made a good team, after all. I could convince the Imperial Commander to let me be with him, and together, we could secure the throne. Just as I was good for Sky, he was good for me. He kept me grounded, and more importantly, he loved me. His love for me felt pure, and I wished to cling to that purity. Perhaps with him by my side, I could heal. I could find myself again, and learn how to live.
My belief in my own future had been middling at best, and sobeing around Sky was like basking in constant sunshine; his unwavering belief in me buoyed my own.
Under the calm blue sky and the adoring cheers of the Chuang Ning people, I took Sky’s large hand in my small one. His eyes cut to mine, and in them, I recognized his love and affection, his pride and his joy. His feelings were uncomplicated, undivided. For me, someone who was divided in almost every matter, I was drawn to that magnetic simplicity, that feeling of absolute conviction that I’d never possessed in anything—not in my strength, not in my love, and certainly not in my future.
Meeting his steadfast gaze, I decided,Your fate will be mine. And mine will be yours.
Seven
When the woman warrior smiled, it was a smile so radiant it stole the strength from his knees. Thus her blade sang, severing his head in a single mighty stroke. The heavens trembled, the phoenix shrieked in fury, but the evil chancellor was no more.
—Bard’s tale, author unknown, 924
By the time we returnedto the Forbidden City, I was exhausted, the muscles in my face sore from smiling. Meanwhile, Sky was practically vibrating with adrenaline and excitement. As I stepped out of the palanquin, I came face-to-face with the Imperial Commander for the first time since my imprisonment.
He swung down from his stallion, no easy feat given the beast’s immense height. His stature had not changed in the intervening months, but his face had. His skin looked to have aged years, if not decades, with sagging wrinkles that had not been there the last time I’d seen him. His hair was now seeded with silver and gray. But what was most pronounced were his haunted eyes—they looked dead inside.
No wonder he had chosen to ride at the back. It was not a face that would inspire confidence.
Sky’s vitality and youth were particularly striking against his father’s deficit. “Your Majesty,” said Sky, bowing, and I hastily moved to follow.
“We depart at sundown,” said the Imperial Commander to hisseventh son. Then he strode past us, without acknowledging my presence.
Winter, who stood next to Sky, folded his lips silently. He too had gone unacknowledged.
“Did you enjoy that?” asked Princess Yifeng, sidling up to me as Sky was approached by his personal guards. “It must feel nice to be so well thought of outside the palace walls. The contrast must feel stark, I imagine.”
She smiled, waiting for me to clarify. But I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.
“Don’t worry.” She patted my arm. “Perhaps the commoners’ praise will help you forget what all the nobles think.” She leaned in close and reached for my hand, and for a foolish moment I thought she was trying to hold it. But instead she hooked her fingers around my red and gold engagement string, which hung loosely over my sleeve. “It doesn’t matter what your besotted boy prince thinks he wants. The Imperial Commander willneveraccept you as his daughter.”
She twisted the string and snapped it in half. But before she could prance away, I seized her wrist. Hard enough to hurt.
“Perhaps it’s the Imperial Commander’s opinion that no longer holds any weight,” I murmured. “Power can be taken away just as easily as it’s given.”
My irreverence shocked even her. With a gasp she tore her wrist free and hurried after her departed husband. I watched her go, smiling grimly. I understood that the white leilu plums had been a test. The princess had wished to assess my social intelligence, to know how much of a threat I’d be to her in the palace. And she’d learned how little I knew of the myriad ways of court.
And yet, what was a court if not its people? And people, I reminded myself, I understood. People, I could read like a sailorreading the tides before a storm. My father and his volatile temper had taught me that much.
I picked up the remains of the string and pocketed them before Sky could see. If I wanted to survive at court, I could afford no more careless blunders. It had taken bravery to enlist in the army, to learn how to wield a sword, to train every night under the light of the stars. It was not bravery I had in short supply. No, it was confidence.
I would need both to survive in a place such as this.
And I would survive. Not only for my sake, but for Sky’s, whose fate was now publicly bound to mine. Princess Yifeng had been a cold reminder: Sky’s place was no more secure than a nestling hovering at the precipice of a tree. He had gained much in the past year, but that only meant he now had farther to fall.
I would not allow him to fall. I would stand by his side, and together, we would secure the throne.
My motives were not entirely selfless. I had not forgotten Prince Yuchen’s insults, nor Princess Yifeng’s. And I certainly hadn’t forgotten the Imperial Commander’s betrayal.
My mother had long taught me there was no justice in this world. Yet I hadn’t expected fairness from the Anlai ruler—only reason. Even that proved too much to ask.
Now, I promised myself I would no longer let those in power dictate my fate. In taking the throne, I would rewrite my own narrative, forging a new legacy for myself.
