Scorpion lilies bloom. The air fills with their petals, drifting downward to land on the ground, on my skin and in my hair—and where they touch me, I feelhismagic. Soothing, familiar, and healing. The pain in my shoulder dulls; my heartbeat calms.
Footsteps sound, echoing in the sudden silence. Then the mó crowding me begin to scurry away. The area clears.
A long shadow falls over me. When I look up, Yù’chén is there. In his flowing black robes, his face utterly expressionless, he looks every bit the heir to the Kingdom of Night.
“This mortal is claimed by your crown prince and protected by order of your empress.” Yù’chén’s voice rings out, low and terrifying, across the revelry. The glade is completely quiet now, performers still. Only the aurora overhead dances, spilling an eerie green light over the scene. “Anyone who so much as lays a finger on her will be served the direst of punishments. I will see to it personally.”
He bends, effortlessly graceful as he scoops me into his arms. I hold tightly to my two blades, tensed, adrenaline pulsing with every beat of my heart.
I wrap my arms around Yù’chén’s neck, holding him tightly as we wind through the crowd.
The flower passage of scorpion lilies forms before us.
“One moment, Your Highness,” a voice calls out.
Xisenyin appears seemingly out of nowhere. Behind her is Niefuzan, and I suddenly notice several of his subordinatesscattered in the crowd. I search Xisenyin for signs of Poison’s talisman working through her body but find none. The spell is probably too weak to cause any lasting damage to a Higher One.
Yù’chén’s grasp tightens around me, but his expressionremains the same: cold, arrogant, his mouth twisted in disdain as he beholds the two members of his mother’s court.
I raise my blades, and Xisenyin lets out a peal of laughter. “Princeling, it would seem you’ve been tricked,” she purrs. “The little flower you chose is, instead, a scorpion with a sharp stinger.”
“She is the mortal I’ve claimed, stinger and all,” Yù’chén replies. “If there’s nothing else, Xisenyin, I’ll be retiring now. Count yourself lucky I won’t retaliate for hurting her.”
“Oh, but thereissomething else.” Xisenyin’s eyes flash. “Your mortal has caused harm to the Kingdom of Night and our people. She attempted to poison me; she has slain four of our court members. Punishment must be dealt.”
“Her life is protected by the empress’s decree,” Yù’chén replies drily, turning to leave.
“We are sworn by our empress’s orders not to hurther. But the same does not apply to you, Princeling.”
Yù’chén stops. Over his shoulder, I can make out the smile twisting Xisenyin’s lips as she continues: “The laws of this court apply to you, Princeling. You have brought a mortal to a public event without the use of oleander nectar to pacify her, and in doing so, you have endangered your mother’s court members.”
Niefuzan speaks now as he takes a step forward. “You are familiar with the punishment for traitors and those who inflict harm upon our kingdom, Princeling. Justice must be served.”
Yù’chén’s gaze falls on me. Not for the first time, I cannot read his expression. “I’ll be right there,” he says quietly.
“No,” I whisper, but behind me, the branches of the scorpion lilies are twining over my neck, my arms, my bodice, wrapping me into the passageway of flowers. I reach for him, but he pulls away. “Yù’chén—”
Flowers clamp over my lips, silencing me. Yù’chén lets me go, the flower passageway takes me in, and I’m ensconced in a gentle darkness and the soft glow of scorpion lilies.
—
I’m released into his chambers. When I turn around, the passageway of scorpion lilies is shrinking into his doors. I spring forward, but I’m met with hard obsidian. I call his name and pound on the doors, but there is no answer. He isn’t there; he is far away, somewhere out there in the Court of the Aurora.
Being punished for my actions.
I sink against the door, holding my blades to my chest.
And I wait.
—
I don’t know how long it is before I sense movement in the chambers. I’ve spent the passing time restlessly, cleaning the blood from my hair and dress, turning my crescent blades over and over between my fingers. In the dark, it is easy to summon memories: of the blankness to Yù’chén’s eyes as he was whipped for stealing during the Immortality Trials; of the way he bore Sansiran’s torture the night she invaded the Kingdom of Sky.
The mó thrive on fear and pain, he told me.
The slowly shifting stardust in the obsidian doors ripples suddenly, and the chamber fills with a flash of red, the thick scent of flowers—and blood.
I hear someone breathing.
