Before I can think twice, I round the plum blossom tree and make my way back to the house. The shutters to my bedroom are open, and voices drift out as I draw near.
“…tried to seek you and your family out in the mortal realm.” It’s Hào’yáng. His tone is quiet, like the clear surface of a stream—yet beneath, I sense undercurrents of emotion. “Lady Shi’ya caught me and gave me a talking-to.”
I hesitate, slowing my steps. I’d fully intended to walk to the front door and knock. But something in Hào’yáng’s words, in the vulnerability threaded through his voice, tells me that the conversation would flow very differently with me there.
“What did she tell you?” My mother’s voice is muted but warm. I picture her leaning forward, cup of tea forgotten, as she listens to his story. While Bà was the practical one in our family, Ma was always the one who made magic out of the ordinary.
“She said that I must not behave like a child my age but like an emperor. That if I was to take back the Kingdom of Rivers, I must bide my time and grow strong. That I must view my life as not mine but the kingdom’s and the people’s, and that each of my choices must be made with them in mind.”
I smile as I imagine Hào’yáng as a child, sitting as straight as a rod, brows creased in solemn concentration as he listened to his tutors or spoke with Lady Shi’ya. My hand goes to the jade pendant at my neck. Strange to think that though we existed in different realms, our lives were always intertwined.
“Lady Shi’ya is wise,” my mother says.
“Was.” Hào’yáng’s tone grows smooth, flat, diplomatic—the tone of the heir, of the guard. Of the mold I imagine he has shaped himself into over the years.
A pause. My heart aches for him; I should be there, next to him. This is a choice we made together, and he should not have to discuss our strategy alone with my mother.
I draw a deep breath and step out of my hiding spot. Through my window, I catch sight of them in our kitchen. My mother is leaning forward, her back to me as she covers Hào’yáng’s hand with her own. “I’m so sorry,” she says.
Hào’yáng’s face might have been carved of stone, but I have come to learn that this is when he is most vulnerable. When he needs the full strength of his armor. He parts his lips to respond—and that is when he sees me. His eyes widen nearly imperceptibly with shock.
Then my mother asks him, “Does Àn’ying know the true story of her birth…and her blood?”
I freeze. This is a subject I have not yet broached with Ma: the fact that I am not her child but Lady Shi’ya’s.
Quickly, I press a finger to my lips. Hào’yáng blinks, then his features smooth seamlessly as he pulls his hand back. I give him a slight nod.
“She knows. She knows everything, Lady Hé.” Hào’yáng’s gaze slides back to my mother. Clearly, he is trying very hard not to look at me. “That is why I’ve come to ask for Àn’ying’s hand in marriage. She is Yi’lín Shi’ya’s blood; she alone can claim Lady Shi’ya’s title, her position, and the army that comes with it.” He exhales sharply. “I need your daughter in order to take back the Kingdom of Rivers, Lady Hé. I can’t win this war without her.”
I lean against the wall so Hào’yáng can see me through my open bedroom door.
He doesn’t look at me, but the corners of his lips curve slightly.
My mother is silent, her outline glowing in the morning light. Though her hair remains white, the sun brings color to her cheeks. “Is that all, Your Highness?”
Hào’yáng’s brows crease. “Pardon?”
My mother does not relent. “Is that all you’d ask? For my daughter’s hand in marriage in order to win this war?”
Hào’yáng blinks, and I have the strangest impression that he and my mother are engaged in a silent game. One I am not privy to. “I would promise her the freedom to love as she wishes throughout our marriage,” he says quietly, and I have the sense that though he gazes at my mother, he speaks directly to me. “I would not hold her to anything she doesn’t wish for. And once the war is won, she is free to annul the marriage, and I will see to it that she and your family want for nothing for the rest of your lives.”
“You are generous, Your Highness. Is there no part of you that wishes to keep my daughter for yourself?”
Something in my chest clenches; the encouraging smile I’d been wearing for Hào’yáng slips.
I pull myself back from the window frame, my heart pounding. Though I can no longer see them, I can still hear them—the pause, the strain in Hào’yáng’s voice when he replies. “Even if I did, I would not deserve her, Lady Hé. Your family has been through the Ten Hells and back because of me. I could spend the rest of my life atoning for that and still, it would not be enough.”
“You are harsh on yourself, Your Highness.”
“I am truthful, Lady Hé.”
“Truthful,” Ma echoes. “Very well, Your Highness. I have only three questions. Answer themtruthfully, and I will grant you my daughter’s hand.”
“Anything, Lady.” Hào’yáng’s voice is warm with sincerity.
Before I can think twice about it, I’ve taken Shadow in my hand and activated the blade’s talisman. Now hidden from sight to most mortal eyes, I peer back through the window just as my mother asks a question that tips my world.
“Do you love my daughter?”
