It’s so thoughtfully made that I can’t help but be touched by this gesture as I step into it. A matching ribbon and a pair of silk slippers are laid neatly in the box. I braid my hair as I always have and slide on the shoes. Finally, I slip my blades into my sleeves. When I finish, I feel more like myself than I have since I arrived here.
I spend the rest of the day perfecting the defensive talismans on my body.
The moon is nearly halfway through the sky—indicating late afternoon, I’ve come to learn—when I’m ready. As I step toward the curtains leading to the open-air pavilion, I make out Yù’chén’s silhouette. He’s standing at the edge of the crystal spring, gazing out at the distant aurora. He has changed into his black cloak bearing the dragon and phoenix intertwined—imperial emblems of the Kingdom of Rivers.
As though sensing my presence, he turns. His gaze settles on me through the billowing drapes, and he goes very still.
Heat rises to my cheeks. “What?” I ask.
He blinks and looks away. The curtains between us cast shadows across his face. “Nothing,” he says quickly, and then: “It’s beautiful. The dress, that is. I wanted to—the water, for the Kingdom of Rivers, and the cherry blossoms—” He stops himself and draws a deep breath. “Do you like it?”
I run a finger over the intricately sewn flowers for which I’mnamed. “It was very thoughtful of you,” I reply, and I part the curtains to cross the threshold to him. “Thank you.”
Moonlight sparks in his gaze as I approach. He holds up a hand. “I have something else for you,” he says. “I thought you’d like it before tonight.”
My attention narrows to the shimmering black feather in his palm. I close the gap between us, my fingers brushing his as I take it.
The feather dissolves, and my family appears. Ma, sitting outside beneath a tarp, fabric and threads splayed across her lap; Méi’zi, crouched by her side. They lean together, their heads nearly touching, their fingers moving in synchrony and needles flashing as they sew. The skies beyond them are an endless azure, sunlight spilling golden over rolling sand dunes.
Méi’zi says something and Ma tips her head back to laugh, then just like that, the vision dissipates and I’m left in the dark with the image of the two people I love most in this world seared into my mind.
“They’re safe, Àn’ying.”
There’s a sharp heat in my eyes and on my cheeks as I nod. “Thank you,” I manage.
“Can I ask you a question?” he says quietly.
I nod.
“Why did you let them leave?” He gestures at where the vision was just moments ago. “Why not go with them, or ask them to stay with you?”
I draw a shuddering breath and close my eyes. “Because sometimes, love means letting go,” I whisper. “Sometimes, love means sacrificing what you want to keep them safe.”
When I open my eyes again, Yù’chén’s still staring at me, ina way that unsettles something deep in my chest. “I told you that I can’t change everything. But I promise you, anything and everything in my power to give you, I will. I…” He swallows. “I hope that one day, it will be enough.”
I don’t know if it will ever be.
Yù’chén’s breath plumes white as he tips his head back to the skies. “Our realm’s lore states that the aurora is made of the energies of souls being reincarnated,” he says quietly. “A divergence of fates and lifetimes. When I was young, I’d look up at the skies and wonder if, somewhere up there, I’m living a life where everything is different.”
I remember his plea to me, back when we were in the Kingdom of Sky, going through the Immortality Trials.I am a life. I, too, have a beating heart.
I want you to look at me and seeme.
“Oh?” I close the gap between us and place my hands next to his on the balustrade. “And what would you be, in this life?”
He’s silent, seemingly deep in thought. Then he says, “Make me a butterfly.” He’s studying the scorpion lilies twining around the balustrade and between his fingers. “They’re beautiful, they’re beloved, and they’re free.”
I cant my head.You are beautiful,I think before I can stop myself. I barely register what I’m going to say as I draw a breath. “Mortals have a practice of palm reading to determine one’s fate in each life.” My voice is soft, for once. “It originated from an ancient philosophy of practitioning, that the Heavenly Order and the gods of all realms draw our destinies on our hands. Has anyone ever shown you?”
He’s staring at me now, and that strange feeling in my chest returns. Wordlessly, he shakes his head.
I hold out a hand. “Want me to show you?”
He hesitates. Then, slowly, he proffers his palm to me.
I take his fingers in mine.
His palm is like nothing I have ever seen. The creases run in strange directions, few in number and some broken in the middle. I make out the heart line, second to the top, wrapping from one end to the other…tapering, like a story unfinished. The life line cuts across his palm—harsh and short. Too short.
