His own mother told me as much nearly a decade ago, when she drank my father’s soul.Like honey, like sunlight, like sweet morning dew.
In the cold and dark recesses of my heart, something sparks:
Anger.
They destroyed our home and have been hunting us, hurting us, not out of necessity…but for pleasure.
I turn to Yù’chén. “Is that true for you?”
His jaw tightens. “I’ve only had mortal blood once, and I taste both what humans would as well as what mó would. But I do not crave it.” His smile is dark. “Worrying that I’ll develop a sudden hunger for your flesh in the night?”
My fury grows, and I cut my next words to hurt: “Just trying to understand how much of a monster you are.”
Yù’chén blinks. The teasing vanishes from his expression ashe lifts his gaze toward the revelry. “To be honest, Àn’ying,” he says, “I don’t even know.”
My anger dissipates at the rawness of his tone. He wears a thoughtful expression as he observes the revelry, and again, I wonder if he has ever discussed this with anyone else. I recall the way Sansiran treated him back in the Kingdom of Sky, the way she hurt him without batting an eyelash…and I think I know the answer.
Yù’chén continues, his tone flat and distant, as though reciting a story: “My mother pushed for me to be raised in the mortal realm, perhaps in hopes that my father would see my value and name me his heir—or at least, legitimize my title and hers. But my father sent me to a private palace away from the Imperial City, where I saw him once a season, if even then. I grew up around mortal servants, educated by tutors of the Kingdom of Rivers, but I knew I was different.
“When my father found out about my mother’s true identity—and therefore what I was—Sansiran stole me back into the Kingdom of Night. Suddenly, my world changed, and everything I’d known was no more. I was a halfling from a different realm, an aberration to the rest of the mó, needing sunlight and sustenance to survive, physically weaker, my magic stunted by my mortal blood. I experienced emotions the mó do not, and I craved things they did not understand and could not give me.
“I learned to protect myself, of course; I needed to, to survive. But when my mother sent me back to the mortal realm to find you before the Immortality Trials, it felt like coming home.” Yù’chén draws a deep breath, as though waking from a dream—or perhaps a long nightmare. His gaze falls on me, and I hear the words he does not speak aloud.
And then we met.
The air between us grows taut. I think of Yù’chén, lonely and cold and deprived of human contact for so long, stepping back into a world of sunlight. Of me, being the first human he’s interacted with in ten long years.
I am in dangerous waters. The last thing I want to feel for him is sympathy; I can’t afford to think of him as anything other than the villain in my world.
I need to think of him only as someone I can use to escape this realm.
“And the gate that your mother created,” I say. “Where is itnow?”
But Yù’chén tenses, his gaze flitting to something behind me. “Don’t move,” he says. “We have company.”
15
Àn’ying
Palace of the Aurora, Kingdom of Night
It takes every ounce of restraint I have to stay still. I feel it then, the way prey can feel a predator closing in on them. A slight stir of wisteria petals, a shift in the air behind me. The presence of danger that lifts the hairs on the back of my neck. Something, or someone, watching me. Prowling closer.
Yù’chén reaches for me, and this time I don’t protest as he draws me close to him. His arms fall against the small of my back. “Don’t be frightened,” he whispers. “Don’t react; don’t do or say anything. Follow my lead.”
I hope I haven’t made yet another mistake in trusting him.
As he begins swaying to the tune of the moonsong, I place my hands on his shoulders. All I can think of is how exposed my back is and how the only excuse for a weapon I have is that jagged shard of porcelain tucked into the bodice of my dress.
A voice speaks behind me, low and guttural. “Enjoying the spoils of our victory, are we, Princeling?”
Yù’chén’s steps fall still. When he looks up over my shoulder, he has entirely transformed: eyes half-lidded, mouth curled with displeasure.
“Iwas,” he drawls irritably, “until you showed your ugly face and ruined my night, Niefuzan.”
A peal of delighted laughter tears through the dark. “Then let us see what kind of a pretty face has captivated your attention, Princeling,” comes a woman’s voice, coy and lilting.“Turn around, mortal darling.”
Her magic encircles me at her command, and it feels like ice sinking into my bones. I’m wrenched from Yù’chén’s grasp and spun around to face the mó.
