Hào’yáng moves back swiftly, and before I know it, we’re rising back up through the depths of the river. We break through the surface and arc through the air, buoyed by waves, and he holds me as we land on the riverbank.
We are soaked. Water snakes down the hair that’s escaped the golden pin he wears to pull it back. Our sleeves tangle in the soft morning light, his hands still tight around my waist.
And he doesn’t let go. “Àn’ying,” he says quietly. “Can I ask you something?”
Again, that ripple in my heart, butterflies’ wingbeats against a sunlit pond. “Of course.”
Hào’yáng hesitates, his eyes searching mine. I imagine his brilliant mind forming the words, honing them to be as sharp and well-balanced as a blade. “How do you think of me?”
I am surprised by the heaviness to his question. I do not know what to make of his words, nor of the feeling of gentle currents threading through my chest. Shifting.
I smile teasingly to cover the warmth in my own cheeks as I select the most diplomatic response. “You are my…betrothed.”
His face softens, and he returns my grin. Teasing in his own way, reminiscent of the days when I’d trained under him in the immortal realm. “Is that all?”
Hào’yáng is careful with his words, taught at a young age, I imagine, by the Imperial Court to speak only tactfully. Yet as I draw breath to answer, I’m aware of the sincerity in his gaze. I recall the terrible grief in his eyes when he gifted Lady Shi’ya’s lotus to me, when he spoke his adopted mother’s name.
He needs comfort. He needs family.
I reach up and place my hand on his cheek. “You are my guardian in the jade,” I say, and I mean each word. “You are closest to my heart, and the one who understands me the most. I promised Lady Shi’ya that I would stay with you every step of the way, no matter how difficult the path.”
Hào’yáng looks at me, and whatever is running through his mind snaps shut. “I see,” he says. “Thank you.”
Though I have, to the best of my ability, given the right answers, I feel as though they were not the ones he sought.
“And you,” I finish, taking his hands, resolve steeling my voice, “are my realm’s rightful heir. My emperor blessed with the blood of dragons, who belongs on the throne of the Kingdom of Rivers.”
2
Àn’ying
Xi’lín Village, Central Province, Kingdom of Rivers
Hào’yáng’s gaze sharpens, and I know my guardian in the jade is gone, replaced by the captain and heir. He traces a thumb over the back of my hand, the gesture almost reflexive, as he turns his gaze to the river. “You’re right,” he says quietly. “It’s time for me to stop running and to face the realm’s judgment as to whether or not I am worthy of ascending its throne.”
“I’ve been waiting for this moment for nearly ten years,” I say. “We all have. Claim your throne, Hào’yáng. Tell me what I need to do to help you.”
The morning sun dances across his face as he turns to look at the water. “When I was eight years old, my father took me on a journey on the Long River, from where it runs past the Imperial Palace to where we believe the heart of the Azure Dragon pulses. The waters were the purest shade of blue, and the way sunlight refracted on the ripples gavethe illusion of scales. Crowds were lined up as far as the eye could see, throwing flowers into the water to bless us and the dragons.
“My father told me that there, at that exact spot, was where he had been crowned emperor and where I would also be crowned one day.” Hào’yáng speaks with a faraway look and the ghost of a smile on his lips. “The mortal emperor is selected when his blood joins with the waters of the Long River. His blood is an offering; the land will decide whether he is worthy of acceptance. If it does, he will be joined as one with the realm.” He extends a hand toward the riverbanks. “As Pearl River is an offshoot of the Long River, here is where I’ll offer my blood and face judgment today.”
I’ve heard the legends, but none except the imperial bloodline know the secret to how the mortal realm conferred upon its emperors the divine right to rule. In the years when wars were fought between all the eligible heirs to the throne, the land grew unstable and tempestuous as harmony was broken. Those years were plagued with natural disasters; famine and disease swept through the people.
“How does the land choose?” I ask.
Hào’yáng laughs. “Had I the answer, I would not have waited so long to return. It’s a divine decision, as mysterious as the Heavenly Order. Historians have tried to summarize the conditions: Typically, if the entire living bloodline declares allegiance to one ruler, that ruler is accepted. If there is only one with the dragons’ bloodline left, the land will also accept. But those are guidelines; the exact choosing lies in the magic tying my bloodline to the realm. The land must believe the heir worthy to rule.” Hào’yáng pauses. “That is why I remained in theKingdom of Sky all these years, why Lady Shi’ya trained me and pushed me so hard to become the best version of myself I could be. I needed to be worthy of the mortal realm’s acceptance.”
I imagine, as I often have, twelve-year-old Hào’yáng arriving on the steps of the Kingdom of Sky, having just lost everything: his family, his home, his kingdom. How well he’d hidden that part of him when he spoke to me through the jade pendant, guiding me and comforting me when he must have been going through so much pain of his own. I recall how he told me training with the immortals as a mortal was difficult; that because he was the weakest of them, he’d vowed to become the best.
And he had.
“I can’t think of anyone more worthy,” I tell him.
This coaxes another smile out of him. “Legends say that once the land chooses a new emperor, dragons will dance in the skies of our realm. If the land accepts me, Àn’ying, the dragons will declare their allegiance to me. The tides of this war would turn.”
To gain the allegiance of the Realm of Dragons would change everything. Gods of the rivers and oceans and every body of water across the realms, dragons are more ancient than even the Heavenly Order that governs all realms and living things, their powers uncontainable by the skies or seas.
“How would we get to the dragon realm to request their allegiance?” I ask. It had never occurred to me that this was a possibility, for growing up, the tales had portrayed the dragon realm as the most ancient and mythical of all.
