I hoist myself out of the water and wrap my arms around myself. I’m exhausted, physically and emotionally; the illusions from the Forest of Nightmares have drained me entirely, so there is no fight in my voice when I reply. “I’m notplaying your games, Yù’chén. The trials are enough as it is.” I cast a glance back at him. He’s still standing at the edge of the spring, rigid, as though locked in place. His eyes are dark as he gazes at me.
I touch my hand to my lip. “With all the life energy I gave you, I’ll consider my debts paid.”
Then I turn away and walk through the Celestial Gardens, the rain cold against my skin.
18
The sun breaks bright in blue skies the next morning, as though determined to clear away all traces of the storm from the night past. Yet there is a palpable tension in the Candidates’ Courtyard today. The remaining candidates are gathered in clusters, their faces serious as they register the missing or the dead. Within just a week, almost half of us have been eliminated from the trials.
Whispers of Number One’s murder drift through every conversation, and along with it, Yù’chén’s lashing from the night past.
“He killed her,” I hear someone say from a group seated at the water’s edge. “He was ranked second, so he wanted to eliminate his most powerful competition. Why else would the immortals have lashed him for something as petty as theft?”
“I heard her body was found in a bad state,” a second candidate adds. “He always struck me as the violent type.”
I pick up my pace and round the walkway to the moongates. In the daylight, the Celestial Gardens look nothing likethey do at night. The flowers are in bloom, chrysanthemums and orchids and peonies and jasmine filling the air with their fragrance and brightening the gardens like gemstones. Guards are stationed on the main walkways, but Hào’yáng is not among their ranks again today.
The Temple of Dawn kept its word about increasing security. All the major training grounds have the presence of guards; seeing the glint of their white-and-gold armor and the flash of their white robes everywhere feels suffocating—especially considering where I’m going.
I slip out Shadow and Fleet and vanish between the trees.
The back of the Celestial Gardens is empty and quiet as I make for the section of the wards where Yù’chén made his gate just two nights ago. It’s difficult to retrace my steps today—we came down a different path directly from the Hall of Radiant Sun—but when the sound of a burbling stream breaks through the morning’s silence, I know I’m close.
Between two willows, the wards appear as an iridescent shimmer in the air like the mist of a waterfall in sunlight. Even here, the hum of their spirit energies reaches me.
I square my shoulders and step toward the stream that plunges off the edge of this realm. If I close my eyes, I remember the way Yù’chén held me as we stood knee-deep in the water. The way the skies opened to me in the realm beyond.
I open my eyes, willing any other traitorous thoughts away as I focus on the translucent wards. Yes, right here, Yù’chén lifted his hands and flowers bloomed from his magic, growing into a door in the wards. They opened into an archway, and everything from the mortal realm grew sharper and clearer, like lifting a veil: the salt-laced wind, the pearl dust stars.
Now the gate is gone—as Yù’chén said it would be.
I let out a shaky exhale.
Yù’chén told the truth. And I don’t know how to feel about that.
Instead, I kneel in the grass before the ward. Since Bà died, I’ve had to learn to hunt for my family’s survival. If a mó or one of the hellbeasts entered from the outside, I should be able to find some form of tracks.
A flash of crimson between the tall grasses catches my eye. I draw my blades out as I lean closer to look.
It’s a red scorpion lily. In the daylight, it has lost its soft, alluring glow, but it rests between the grasses, a thing both beautiful and deadly. As I study it, I realize it’s rooted in the soil and the stream just within the wards, its dew-kissed petals glistening like blood.
I’m about to reach for it when I hear footfalls behind me.
I whirl around, my blades already slicing through the air—and my heart leaps into my throat when I catch sight of the newcomer. White silks, gold lamellar armor.
My blade glances off a metal wrist guard with aplinkas Hào’yáng easily blocks my swipe.
“Oh,” I gasp. “S-Sorry.”
A gentle wind plays with his hair, and the sunlight haloes him as he studies me. I can’t help but stare back, recalling each sweep of his features as though I am underwater again, surrounded by the shifting tides.
Hào’yáng’s gaze flicks down at my hand, curled instinctively on my collarbone where my jade pendant is tucked beneath my clothes. Somehow, the silence between us feels as taut as a drawn breath.
Then he says, “Don’t be. I was looking for you.”
My lips part, and as a wind picks up, sending petals dancing in the sunlit clearing, I can’t help but wonder if this is a moment carved in the wheels of fate, brought about by the threads my father has carefully woven into my life throughout all these years, culminating here.
“Why?” I ask. My voice is almost carried away in the breeze.
