We break through the line of trees to the sound of waves crashing against the shore. This beach is nothing like the white sand beach where we trained in the sun. Here, the shore is rocky, gritty, and strewn with fallen leaves and twigs.
But the ocean is the same.
The sky is beginning to lighten to gray, hints of an imminent dawn seeping into this realm.
“Forgive me, Àn’ying,” Hào’yáng says, breaking the silence between us. “So much of the pain in your life was caused by my existence.” His gaze is set straight ahead, his tone light, but I can tell from the way his fingers tighten around the hilt of his sword that this is important to him. “Had your father not pulled me from the wreckage of the Imperial City that day, he would still be alive. You would not have been involved in any of this.”
I stop and turn to Hào’yáng, and he mirrors my movements. The ocean wind stirs our hair and clothes, the faint light of the impending day limning his broad shoulders and white-and-gold uniform. I find myself thinking of the legends of gods and dragons, of how they blessed the mortal emperor’s lineage with their magic. And I find, as I gaze at Hào’yáng, that he is no stranger, no distant prince. That all along, I’ve seen the traces of my boy in the jade in this man.
I clasp one hand to the pendant at my throat and reachtoward him with my other, daring myself to be bold. “May I?” I ask.
He says nothing. Instead, he simply leans forward slightly, dipping his face toward me. I close my eyes and let my fingers fall on his cheeks. I allow myself to slip back into the frightened, lonely girl of these nine years, hiding in the dark and dreaming of meeting her guardian in the jade. My hands graze Hào’yáng’s jaw, feeling the warmth of his lips, the steadiness of his breath, the slight flutter of his lashes, and the sculpted edges of his features.
When I open my eyes again, he is still here. He has not vanished like a phantom in the night. He watches me calmly, haloed by the lightening sky and the sea.
I know him. I know him with the bone-deep awareness that our lives have been intertwined for years. That all along, he has been there by my side, watching over me unseen. That he has never abandoned me.
“In each life, we are born to walk a path,” I say. “If this is the path the fates or my destiny has drawn for me in this life, then I will walk with you to the end.”
Emotions ripple through Hào’yáng’s eyes, like currents in the depths of an ocean. It’s gone the next moment. “I think I have a story to finish telling you,” he says. “It is the one Lady Shi’ya told me, of the reason I had to watch over the girl in the jade.”
We sit atop an outcropping of rocks overlooking the sea, and Hào’yáng begins: “Long ago, an immortal fell in love with a mortal warrior. He was at the Temple of Dawn to train as a disciple and to compete in the Immortality Trials. Yet when he won them, he declined to take the pill ofimmortality and cross over into the Kingdom of Sky. He was needed back in the mortal realm, where his skills as a practitioner would serve the Kingdom of Rivers.
“The immortal bore him a child: a baby girl. The High Court was furious with her for defying the Heavenly Order—yet, by the laws of the Kingdom of Sky, her halfling daughter was entitled to a life in the immortal realm due to her immortal blood. Still, the mortal warrior left the Kingdom of Sky with his newborn daughter. In the Kingdom of Rivers, he married a woman he loved, who knew his secret and still loved him and his daughter, and who bore him a second child.
“All was at peace for years to come. Yet when the Kingdom of Night waged war, the mortal warrior enlisted to fight for the imperial army. By the time he reached the palace, it was too late: the emperor was dead, and all was destroyed. All except for one small life, buried in the rubble, one that the mó army had missed.” Hào’yáng pauses here and looks directly at me. “You know this: that your father traded your spot in the Kingdom of Sky to save my life. He asked Lady Shi’ya to love me as she might their child. In turn, she broke a jade pendant she carried by her heart and gave half to him. Their destinies were written to be separated by sky and earth, but with the jade pendant, they would always carry a piece of the other with them.
“Lady Shi’ya handed me her half of the jade and told me that I owed my life to the little girl within. She told me that the jade would call out to me when she needed help, and that I had to protect the girl—because we were connected by threads of fate spun long before either of us were born.”
The skies are aflame with pinks and corals and reds, settingthis realm on fire. The night is receding; day is coming. It gilds Hào’yáng in a fierce, blazing light, as if the sun itself worships him.
“Àn’ying, I wish to show you something,” he says, and rises, offering his hand.
I take it, lacing my fingers through his, and he draws me to him and gently places a palm on my back. Then he pulls us off the cliff.
My breath catches at the initial plunge. Yet beneath us, the ocean roars, rising to greet us. Waves entwine us, encircling us and lifting us into the sky. Droplets of foam arc through the air like crystals, catching the early sunlight.
“How…?” I cannot find the words; I only know that ordinary practitioners cannot summon waves and water like this. At most, we may bend its energies to our use. But the sea wraps around Hào’yáng as if it is alive beneath his touch. A part of him.
“I never told you the story behind Meadowsweet,” he says. “The truth is that she chose me at birth. You see, the mortal emperor’s lineage carries a secret. There is a reason our symbol is the dragon; a reason the prophecies speak of our people as descendants of the dragons.” He draws a deep breath, as though steeling himself for this confession. “The blood of dragons runs through us, Àn’ying, along with their power. Your father knew this, and Lady Shi’ya did, too.”
The blood of dragons.I stare at Hào’yáng, at the ocean waves dancing behind him, as if he sits on a throne of water, and I think of the enormous spirit energy I’ve felt emanating from him—too strong for any mortal.
“So the legends are true,” I say, and he nods. “Is it also true, then, that the dragons’ old magic guards our realm?”
He nods again. “Our civilization was founded from the soul of the Azure Dragon, when she laid down her bones to gift us the Long River. Without the blood of the dragons, one cannot rule the Kingdom of Rivers. Though their magic runs strongest in my lineage, every mortal who has grown from these lands and drunk the waters of our kingdom is entitled to our realm. The mó do not belong here, and they never will.”
But I remember something that makes me suddenly cold. “Hào’yáng,” I whisper. “Yù’chén—he is the son of the demon queen Sansiran…and your father.”
His grip tightens on me momentarily. Hào’yáng lifts his gaze, and his expression takes on the calculating look I have seen him wear when he thinks. “That explains how they were able to break through the wards of our realm and take down the Imperial City nine years ago,” he muses.
“Does that make him eligible for the mortal throne?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “There is no precedent to a halfling child of the demon queen and the mortal king. I imagine Sansiran has been using him to hold on to her tenuous grasp of the Imperial City. But until the Kingdom of Rivers completely sinks into the Kingdom of Night, our land will continue to reject them.” Hào’yáng looks back at me. His gaze is calm but with the strength of steel and the power of oceans. “No matter what, Àn’ying, I will win this war against the Kingdom of Night and take back the mortal throne from the mó.
“Lady Shi’ya recruited immortal allies who pledged themselves to our rebellion,” he continues. “The next step is to rally what remains of mortals—of us—who wish to fight backagainst the mó. But first, I must seek the backing of a fourth realm.”
“The realm of dragons,” I murmur.
