From now on, I would make my own justice.
As Princess Ruihua passed through the courtyard, her gaze flicked toward mine. She hesitated, not knowing if we were on speaking terms after her husband’s insult.
“Your Highness,” I said, bowing. “How well you look today.”
Her smile was one of relief. “As do you,” she replied. She fiddledwith the tie of her cloak, glancing around the courtyard before saying in a rush, “Please forgive my husband’s behavior the other day. His sense of humor can be…difficult to understand.”
That day, I had been intimidated by her carefully made-up face, the way she knew how to dress and hold her body like a honed blade. But today I saw that her appearance was nothing more than a veneer, and beneath all the silks and rouge we were all the same: insecure, doubting, and afraid.
“There is nothing to forgive,” I said, before smiling. “Though next time, I know not to underestimate the perils of chair legs.”
Princess Ruihua smiled back, before her daughter screamed her name from inside. She apologized and took her leave, and now it was my turn to sigh in relief. Only a year ago, I would’ve avoided her gaze and tried never to interact with her again. But now I understood that relationships were like bodies of water, fluctuating with the seasons.
I felt the weight of someone’s gaze behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and found Winter watching me. In his eyes was a shrewd recognition—both of who I was and what I was trying to achieve.
I had become acquainted with the sixth and seventh princes during wartime, when Sky had been the protector of the two. But Sky had once confided in me that back in court, their roles had been reversed. Winter did not fight, and so in battle he became a liability. But in peacetime, he was someone I wanted on my side.
A handsome man in uniform stopped by Winter’s side, whispering something in his ear. His hair was brown with a hint of red in the sunlight, and as Winter replied, the man smiled, revealing a dimple in one cheek. I vaguely remembered him from the war, but his name escaped me.
“Captain Tong,” said Sky, striding up to them. “Ready the horses.”
“Yes, sir,” said Captain Tong, whom I now remembered from First Platoon, back when he was still a lieutenant. He had been a reliable leader—reserved, but steady. He never drank or socialized with his men, preferring to keep his evenings to himself.
As Captain Tong turned to go, Winter caught his arm, saying something else. Although there was nothing indecent about the gesture, there was a certain quality in Winter’s expression, a softness there that I’d never seen before, that gave me pause.
Before I could eavesdrop, Sky bounded over. “Were you waiting for me? You shouldn’t have.” His eyes trailed over the gooseflesh lining my exposed skin. “You must be cold.”
“It’s your fault,” I said, wrinkling my nose at him. I missed my practical uniform from our army days. Despite the quality of the cloth, my fine robes were made for beauty rather than warmth. “If it weren’t for you, I’d never dress like this.”
“I find I can’t summon any regret,” said Sky, eyes twinkling, “when you look so beautiful.” He rubbed my arms to generate heat. “Here, I’ll warm you up.”
But I noticed the soldiers behind him, watching us impatiently. “You have to go, don’t you?” I guessed. “Is this goodbye, then?”
I’d said goodbye to Sky before, but always as the one with the mission, never the one left behind.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” said Sky, taking my cold hand and rubbing it between his warm ones. “I’ve asked Winter to keep an eye on you while I’m away.”
“Can I visit my family now?” I asked, careful to keep the pleading note from my voice.
“I’m sorry, Meilin.” He clenched his hands more firmly around mine. “You know how my father’s moods are right now. I wanted to ask, but…”
I didn’t want Sky to risk provoking the Imperial Commander on my behalf, not with things as precarious as they were. I squeezed his hand to show that I understood.
“Don’t go near any spirit gates, if you find them,” I warned. I had seen firsthand what those gates could do to a man. It did not matter how skilled you were with a sword or how fast your horse could carry you. Against the seductive pull of lixia, all that mattered was the affinity of your qi. “You don’t understand what the lure of spirit power is like. No one does, until they meet it face-to-face.”
He lifted his sleeve to show me a familiar iron armlet. It was the same one Lieutenant Fang had given him during the war. “These days, I never take it off.”
I bit my lip with worry. “I wish I could go with you.”
“When you’re better,” he assured me, before tweaking my nose, which must have turned red with cold. “Now go inside and get warm.”
With the Imperial Commander, thecrown prince, and the seventh prince all departed from the capital, the Forbidden City seemed to take on a subdued, languorous air. That night, I dreamed of wandering the city, the rivers, the forests beyond the palace. In my dreams I called upon my lixia and wept with relief. But in waking, I knew these visions to be nothing more than dreams.
I wiped tears from my face and called for my maidservants.
“Would you like breakfast, my lady?” asked Lotus.
“Please,” I said. “Sit.”
