He reaches for my neck. I shudder as his fingers slide across my skin, then as his dark magic flows, hot and intoxicating, through me. He keeps his eyes lowered the entire time, but I still catch the flare of red in his irises.
Slowly, the fog pulls back from my head. Strength flows back into my limbs, warmth into my core.
Yù’chén retracts his hand. We sit, facing each other, my porcelain shard against his throat, his gaze lowered to the grass as the crimson fades from his eyes.
“I want a weapon.” My voice is too loud in the silence.
“I can’t give you one,” he replies.
“You can’t keep me here without a means to defend myself. You saw what she—Xisenyin—almost did to me.”
“She can’t hurt you,” Yù’chén says. “No one can—you’re protected under the bargain I made with my mother.”
The bargain.
Hebeggedfor you.
I draw a deep breath, trying to steady the tremors jittering down my body. “What is the bargain?” I ask.
A muscle tenses in his jaw. “I made a covenant with Sansiran,” he says at last.
“A covenant?”
“A bond between two beings, forged by the strongest old magic of this realm. So long as one side fulfills a bargain, the other is held to their service for eternity.” Yù’chén recites this mechanically. “It’s how power dynamics work here. There is no trust, no loyalty—the mó thrive on power and obedience, on fear and pain.”
I consider this, my eyes narrowed. “And your covenant prevents you from arming me.”
“It prevents me from acting against the interests of my kingdom, so, yes, arming you when you are hostile to my realm might fall under that.” He speaks with a touch of sarcasm, but he won’t look at me.
“You can’t keep me here without a weapon,” I repeat. “I am prey, Yù’chén; I am kept in a cage, protected by your mercy.”
“You are not my prisoner, Àn’ying—”
“Then let me go.”
Sorrow flickers in his eyes. “I can’t do that either, Àn’ying.”
“Then why did you do it?” I ask. “Why keep me here at all? If you want me as your…your mortal escort, you could just drug me on oleander nectar or enchant me to do as you please—”
“I see your assumptions of me still hold,” he snaps, his temper rising at last. “Àn’ying, when have Ieverforced you to do something? When have I ever misused my power and commanded you for my benefit?”
“Myassumptionsof you are based on when you deceived me about your true intent in the Immortality Trials, used me to find the identity of the mortal heir, and opened a gate for the Kingdom of Night to invade the Kingdom of Sky!”
The anger vanishes from Yù’chén’s face, leaving behind something raw. “Àn’ying.” His voice is low, steady, when he speaks again. “I told you once, very early on, that I wanted a better life, in a better place. Do you remember that?”
I do. I remember, painfully, every word he said to me. All the lies he gave me about wishing to be mortal, about his beating, human heart.
“My tenure here demands me to act in the interests of my kingdom,” he repeats. “This war—it isn’t good for my realm,Àn’ying. The mó are beings of the night, the moon, and the stars; our energies and our lives depend solely on those. Not the flesh and blood of mortals in your realm, nor anything in the immortal realm. Each day that my mother continues these wars, lives are lost. Across my realm and across yours. And now, across the Kingdom of Sky.”
I frown, trying to unpuzzle where he is going with this.
“This war is ruining my kingdom and destroying this world,” Yù’chén continues. “I want to stop it.”
Five words, and time comes to a halt.
Yù’chén speaks slowly, as though choosing his words carefully. “It’s very hard for me to…influence things here. But soon, I may be able to.” He inhales deeply. “I’m asking you to work with me when the time comes.”
I stare at him, my heart pounding with the hidden meaning in his words.When the time comes.
