Something like regret crosses Yù’chén’s expression. He holds out a hand again, and his tone is soft when he speaks. “I could destroy this gate with a single word from you. I could also save your sister and be back before the sun rises. The choice is yours, Àn’ying.”
Again, that damned sincerity to his tone, the way he looks at me as if he means it—I don’t know what to believe.
But I look at his palm, the light of the scorpion lilies casting it in red. I know my choice. That has never changed.
I reach out and place my hand in his. “Help me save my sister.”
He draws me to him, close, until we are facing each other at the edge of this realm, our clothes brushing, all but touching. His hands settle around my hips, and suddenly, my heart’s in my throat and I find I can’t breathe, can’t focus on anything but the heat of his fingers on me.
“I did lie to you,” he whispers in my ear, and I tense as a shiver rolls through me. “I have to use dark magic one more time tonight to get us to your sister.” He laces his fingers through mine. “The mó have the ability to create passages between destinations in each realm, folding distances and traveling faster that way. Is that all right with you?” He leans back, his eyes roving my face, lips curling in a humorless smile. “One more lie from a wicked demon…to save your sister?”
No,I want to say.None of this is right.None of thisshouldbe right—I’m knowingly endangering the Kingdom of Sky by creating a breach in their wards and hiding the secret from them. I am just as culpable as Yù’chén, if not more.
But I would trade kingdoms to save my family.
“Yes,” I say.
Yù’chén holds out a scorpion lily to me. This time, I take it. A tingle rushes up my fingers as soon as I touch its stem: the sensation of a velvet darkness brushing against my skin. The gate of flowers in the wards pulses gently, as though reacting to my touch. Beyond, as clear as glass, is the night sky of the mortal realm, bright with stars.
“Focus on the destination you want,” Yù’chén says. “I’ll do the rest.”
I close my eyes and imagine my broken little house with its flowering plum tree and winding dirt path. Xi’lín, with its gray terra-cotta roofs gleaming like dragon scales in thesunset, the old pái’fang of faded gold characters reminding us that better times once existed. A yearning rises inside me, so bone-deep that an ache grips my heart.
Power surges through the scorpion lily in my hands—dark, passionate, tumultuous—brushing against my thoughts.Dark magic.It twines through the images I’ve conjured of home…and in my mind, flowers bloom.
“Àn’ying, open your eyes.”
I do.
The gate of scorpion lilies before me no longer opens to a midnight sea. Two blooms of purple wisteria have appeared beyond it, their branches reaching for each other like lovers’ hands. They extend into a tunnel of softly glowing flowers bedded on walls of shadow. It is at once beautiful and terrifying, and I cannot decide which way I feel.
“This…leads us to my home?” I ask.
Yù’chén nods. “The passage is temporary, in case that brings you comfort. It’ll vanish as soon as we use it.”
“And you’ll destroy thegateonce we return,” I press.
His eyes are downcast, his shoulders tense, as though he is fighting something I cannot see. Then he exhales, and something like helplessness seeps into his face. He nods. “If you ask.”
I hand the flower back to him and take out my blades. The heft of Fleet and Striker in my palms feels good, like landing on solid ground after treading water. “Then let’s go,” I say.
Yù’chén reaches for my hand again, but he does not remove my crescent blade. Instead, his fingers curl around my wrist. The tip of Striker skims the skin of his forearm with the motion.
“I’ll lead you through,” he says. “Just…remember,everything will look exquisitely beautiful. These passages spun of our magic are…compelling to mortals. None of what you might see or feel is real. And don’t touch the flowers.”
I tighten my grip around my blades and nod.Not real.Skies, everything about the mó’s magic is designed to enchant and ensnare us.
“Follow me, Àn’ying,” Yù’chén says, and turns.“Just follow me.”His voice is impossible to ignore as his magic flares. My feet move of their own accord, tracing Yù’chén’s steps through the wisteria trees into the pocket of darkness.
The hum of magic immediately cloaks us. We’re in a tunnel of flowers, their fragrance sublimely sweet, their petals a soft blush against the dark. Between their branches, the night sky has come alive with stars. Light limns the petals, and I realize the wisteria has shifted. We walk beneath a canopy of cherry blossoms, their outlines rendered nearly silver by the moon that hangs low and bright, its surface fractured by the interwoven branches. My head feels light, as if I’ve drunk too much of the peach wine at the Banquet Hall.
“Àn’ying.”My breath catches at Yù’chén’s voice. It was always beautiful, but here, it seems to echo, amplified by the magic.“Àn’ying, do not let the flowers distract you.”
It’s too late, and they have. Magic falls from them like pollen, tangling in my hair and on my lips and in my senses. I have seen the rows and rows of cherry blossoms at the Temple of Dawn, radiant and sparkling in the sun. But I never expected that the sight of them in the darkness would take my breath away. And with each step, no matter how much I try to resist, their glow becomes brighter, and the real world falls away from me a little more.
Cherry blossoms in the dark,I think.My namesake.
I feel as if I’m dreaming. Yù’chén’s grip is at once firm and gentle on my wrist, and he leads me forward with an urgency I do not feel. I reach out a hand and graze a finger against the petals of a familiar red flower.
