“I’m certain. Good night, Lily.”
I waited until Lily’s footsteps had faded before dressing by candlelight, taking care not to make a sound.
Apart from one near miss with the palace patrol, I made it to the moon-viewing pavilion with no one the wiser. I could not tell the exact hour, but from the position of the moon in the sky, I felt certain I had not missed our appointment.
But where was Lei? It was not like him to be late. And on secondthought, as I observed the way the radiant moonlight shone upon the marble pavilion, offering its radiance to the half-moon bridge and the sleeping lotus pond beyond, I began to wonder why Lei had chosen such a conspicuous meeting place. Not only was the pavilion brightly lit, but it was also highly visible, offering a clear line of sight to the surrounding palace.
The first shivers of doubt ran down my spine. What proof did I have that it had been Lei to write that note? What if it had not been the Ximing prince, but…
Cold laughter rang out from across the half-moon bridge. Dread sank like a stone in my gut as I turned to find Princess Yifeng and a contingent of her guards crossing the bridge toward me.
“Oh, Lady Hai, how you amuse me,” she said, her voice sparkling like light on water. “What a clever girl you are…until you’re not.”
I tried to back away, but there was nowhere to go. The pavilion had but one path, and even if I were to run, how could I escape the palace in my current state?
“Seize her,” Princess Yifeng ordered. This time, the guards afforded me no pretense of politeness. One jerked my arms behind my back, while another fitted genuine iron manacles around my wrists. I swallowed a cry as my lixia left me like a flame extinguished on a bitter cold night. My knees buckled and I did not have the strength to keep myself upright. I collapsed on the ground, curling into a fetal position until a guard forced me to my knees.
“Your greed is astounding,” she said, looking down at me. “Despite breaking every rule imaginable, you still came out witheverything. You had the love of the people, the love of a prince, the life every girl in Anlai can only dream of. And yet, even still you would throw it all away…” Her smile returned, but not before I saw the glimmer of jealousy in her eyes.
In a way, her machinations were a compliment. They meant she saw me as a viable threat, a key obstacle in her path to the throne.
“How insecure you must be,” I spat, jutting my chin up at her, “to see someone as insignificant as me as a threat to you, Your Highness.”
“If you wish to survive at court, darling, you must see everyone as a threat. But I don’t disagree. You are insignificant.” Her face turned emotionless. “Especially once you’re dead in the ground.”
And now real fear sluiced through me as I realized why they’d forced me to kneel. Princess Yifeng nodded at the swordsman beside her. I struggled against my captors, my vision blurring with cold terror. “N-no,” I tried to say, but my voice wasn’t working properly.
Princess Yifeng smiled at my panic. “Did you think I’d wait for your besotted prince to return home and protect you?” She raised her voice, and I wondered if others were watching. “You know the punishment for treason.” The swordsman beside her unsheathed his blade. “Death by execution.”
Eleven
In fact, during the Yong Dynasty, the wielding of spirit power was closely linked with virtues such as justice and ambition. However, following the Warring States Period and the subsequent ban on black magic, public perception shifted, associating those who wielded spirit power with negative traits such as vengeance and greed. As for whether the qualities that attract spirits are inherently good or evil, this author cannot answer. Emotions, much like the sun and the moon, possess both a bright and a dark side—it all depends on the angle from which they are viewed.
—manuscript from the desk of Liu Winter, 924
I should have run, I thoughthopelessly, struggling not to hyperventilate. I should have fought with everything I had, rather than accepting my fate so foolishly, like a sheep led to slaughter.
I was angry, so unbearably angry. Angry at Princess Yifeng for twisting the narrative, for once again casting me as a traitor and a liar. Angry at Sky for abandoning me, for taking my credit and then letting me fall.
Above all, I was angry with myself—for letting one stupid mistake ruin me.
“Wh-what proof?” I wheezed. “Other than hearsay—”
“What proof do I have?” she repeated, laughing. “Oh, Lady Hai, I already have the approval of the prince, and three independent witnesses who have each verified the evidence in question. Now,” she directed the executioner. “Do not tarry.”
The swordsman raised his blade high, its surface catching the moonlight and scattering shards of brilliance across the pavilion. But I refused to avert my gaze from the sword.
“Pleasant night for a stroll, is it not?” Though the words were casual, the voice rang out across the lake, forceful and resounding.
“Prince Winter,” said Princess Yifeng, trying to hide her alarm. “And—Keyan!” Her dismay grew. “What are you doing here?”
“I might ask the same of you, princess,” said Winter. He inclined his head at me, as if I were not bound and kneeling on the floor. “Lady Hai.”
The crown prince was frowning, his frown so deep the lines looked engraved into his face. “Did you know about this?” he asked Winter.
Winter shrugged in a gesture that indicated neither yes nor no. “Now that the crown prince is here, his jurisdiction precedes that of Prince Yuchen, who I trust is the one who signed the execution order?”
Yifeng gave a curt nod before appealing to her husband. “Your Highness,” she said. “Lady Hai has committed an act of the highest treason. I have long harbored doubts about her loyalty to the Imperial Commander, particularly after her defection to Ximing during the war—”
