Distance and space does not work in this realm as it does in mine. I hold on to Yù’chén tightly, struggling to orient myself as his passageway transports us somewhere new.
When the shadows of his passageway retreat, an explosion of music and a scene of debauchery greet us. Beneath the open night is a glade gleaming with flowers. The air is fragrant with the sweetness of their magic; colors spill from them, so that the entire place is aglow. Overhead, the dark canvas of night dances with the lights of the aurora, illuminating the abyss around us and, in the distance, the silhouettes of jagged mountains, temples, and lakes.
Here, on this island suspended in an endless night, mó are dancing in groups, gathered around tables with drinks, entwined in shadowy alcoves.
“Welcome to the Court of the Aurora,” Yù’chén murmurs in my ear.
An ancient stone pái’fang knifes toward the scythe moon. For some reason, my attention pulls to the gate, and a chill settles in my bones. Even from several steps away, I sense the magic and shadows coiled around it, invisible wards teeming with dark, demonic energies. The ground beneath it is dark with a rust color, and I can’t help but think it resembles blood.
I shudder. “What’s that?” I whisper.
Instead of answering, Yù’chén turns away and leads me through the throngs of revelers.
Drinks and delicacies are nestled amidst vines and flowering trees, clay cups and plates refilling magically. Fountains gush from the shadows, splashing brightly colored liquid into the open mouths of ecstatic mó, their eyes overly bright and dazed, cheeks and lips unnaturally flushed.
It doesn’t take long to spot the mortals. They drift among the crowd wearing expressions of blithe joy. In my realm, they would have been lovely—but here, next to the sharp, ethereal beauty of the mó, they look plain and imperfect, their skin dull and hair lacking luster.
Claimedis the word Yù’chén used, and I finally understand his distaste. A mortal man sways upon a patch of grass, smiling vacantly as two mó circle him, examining him like a pig trussed up for slaughter. Beneath a crabapple tree, a mortal woman tips her head back as a mó presses a flower to her lips. Golden nectar drips down her chin, and she giggles as the mó sinks his teeth into her shoulder.
I jerk my gaze away, breaths coming unevenly. All my instincts war against staying here one moment longer. How can I pretend that nothing is happening? That I don’t see how humans like me are being used as live feeding sacks?
Yù’chén pulls me into an alcove of wisteria. He draws me close, his hands coming to rest on the small of my back.
“You need to relax your expression or you’ll give us away,” he says quietly. “I’m breaking a cardinal rule by bringing an unclaimed mortal to this revelry.”
“The mortals, they’re defenseless,” I manage. Memories of nine years past press against my eyelids, imprinted in my mind as a child and brought forth by the scenes in front of me.
Yù’chén’s gaze roves my face. “We should leave,” he says.
“No.” Perhaps my reply comes too quickly; he raises an eyebrow, and I continue: “I need you to teach me everything about your realm.”
“You’re shaking.” He grips my shoulder, his thumb tracing an involuntary stroke against my skin.
“I’mfine.” If this is truly the future I am staring down for the rest of my life, I need to face it with my eyes wide open.
Yù’chén sighs and relents, glancing over my shoulder to survey the crowd. “There is no one of import here yet,” he says. “The Kingdom of Night follows a similar hierarchy as many other realms, the Kingdom of Rivers included. We have an empress; below her are the Higher Ones, the most powerful mó across these realms. Each holds a position. Niefuzan is the war general; he leads her armies based simply on brute strength. Xisenyin is one of her High Mages, specializing in winter magic. Each of the Higher Ones control a faction of the Court of the Aurora—and each one of them is sworn to my mother by covenants.”
There’s a lull as he considers the scene. I realize he’s holding me and swaying me gently as though we are in a dance; his hand makes small, soothing circles on my back. The rhythmicmotion lulls my senses, calming my body’s response earlier and slowing my breaths. He is warm, the heat of his body warding off the chill from the night as I let myself lean against him.
“Why did you do it?” I finally ask the question that’s been lingering in the back of my mind. “Why bind yourself to her service for the rest of your life…to keep me here?”
Yù’chén is silent for so long that I don’t think he’s going to answer me. But when he does, his words are so quiet, I nearly miss them. “It was the only way to stop her from hurting you.”
I stare at him, my mind growing blank with the implications of his confession.
Hebeggedfor you.
It was real for me.
Gently, Yù’chén brushes a lock of my hair from my face. “You’re going to give us away with that scowl.” He sighs. Then he breaks into that dazzling, lopsided grin, shrugging off the weight of our conversation. “Smile for me, Àn’ying,” he says. “Pretend you’re in love with me tonight.”
I can’t smile. I’m frozen with the knowing that this man—if he tells the truth—has traded his life away to save mine.
A flash of white over his shoulder pulls my attention.
I stiffen. Where stone pái’fangs rise into the skies high enough to touch the aurora itself, I catch the glint of her snowy hair.
Xisenyin.
