His eyes glow red with his magic, and a voice in the back ofmy mind tells me I should be afraid, tells me I should run, but I can only think of the crimson petals of the scorpion lily, the flower foretelling tragedy.
My fingers trail lower, brushing the soft curves of his lips, tracing the hard angles to his jaw. He goes very still at my touch, his lashes casting crescents against his cheeks, breaths warm against my skin.
“Is this your true form?” I barely even know what I’m saying, but the question is one that’s been in the back of my mind. Would a half-mó, half-mortal take on the full form of a human? Or does he hide a monstrous thing beneath all this beauty?
Yù’chén’s jaw tenses. “Stop,” he says, and pulls his face from my grasp.
I feel cold, and I realize he’s shut off his dark magic. He continues to hold me, though it’s only to stop me from falling.
I blink, then push away from him. Blood rushes to my face. His magic—dark,demonicmagic—is affecting me in ways that should disgust me.
Yet beneath that is the realization that this man has saved my life once more.
And then it occurs to me:Who’s watching over you?Yán’lù has asked me, over and over again.
“It’s you,” I whisper. “You’re the one Yán’lù’s looking for.”
Yù’chén narrows his eyes. “Why would he be looking for me?”
Because you’re the one who keeps helping me,I think, and my hands curl into fists. “Why did you help me again?”
He’s silent.
“I told you,” I continue. “I want nothing to do with you.”
Yù’chén angles his face away from me. Still, he says nothing.
I shut my eyes briefly and decide to give him a truth. “I don’t want to owe you.”
Yù’chén’s eyes are fixed on the grass between us, littered with fragments of moonlight like shards of broken porcelain. When he lifts his head again, his expression is casual, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips, as though we were simply having a friendly discussion. “Why were you outside by yourself?”
I hesitate, but I can’t think of any reason not to tell him the truth. “I wanted to send my sister something,” I reply. “I needed to test whether I could get something through the Kingdom of Sky wards to the mortal realms.”
He huffs a laugh, then shakes his head with a sort of helplessness. After a beat, he says, “Let me help you.”
I want to say no. Ishouldsay no.
But I’m feeling a little better, at least strong enough to move around. I’m warm and dry, and honestly, the last thing I want is to return to my chambers and feel Yán’lù’s cronies’ hands on me in the dark, remember the feeling of drowning.
If there’s anything Yán’lù has taught me, it’s that there are some mortals capable of greater cruelty than mó.
“All right,” I say.
12
My strength returns as I follow Yù’chén through the Celestial Gardens, winding through the forest of flowering trees and willows. It occurs to me that I am doing the exact opposite of what my parents and all mortal stories warned me of when I was a little girl: following a demon through the dark of the woods in the night.
But I am no longer a little girl, and the stories are just stories.
With my blades back in my hands, I feel calmer and in control once again—as much as I can be. Yù’chén weaves and ducks through the dove trees and ginkgos, and I keep my gaze pinned on the red of his cloak, which seems to blur into the shadows.
I begin to wonder if this is all a terrible idea. If getting a message to Méi’zi is worth the risk of being found out and potentially expelled from the trials.
“Where are we going?” I whisper.
“To the wards,” Yù’chén says in a low voice. We duck into the shade of the great plum blossom trees that line this part of the gardens: near the front of the grounds but far enough from the Hall of Radiant Sun so we won’t be seen. A river runs behind us, curving to the edge of this garden before plunging off the edge in one of those precarious waterfalls.
I frown. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”
