Hào’yáng meets my gaze, his expression mirroring my grim understanding.
“So long as two heirs to the Kingdom of Rivers exist, the allegiance of the dragons is split.” The Dragon King confirms what we’ve both suspected from the start. “We will not act to harm one or the other. As to what that means for you, princeling and daughter of immortals…I leave that to you.” The DragonKing closes his eyes and inhales. “You are guests of the Dragon Kings, and so this realm is yours to enjoy. When you decide to leave, take the pearl pendants gifted to you and blow upon them, and you shall be returned to the Kingdom of Rivers.”
As he speaks, the skin at my throat warms. I look down tofind a gleaming pearl strung on a silver cord resting against my collarbone. Hào’yáng, too, has one.
The waters around the Dragon King suddenly ripple. When they settle again, he, the throne, and the palace have vanished, leaving us standing on an expanse of sunlit sea.
24
Àn’ying
The Four Seas, Realm of Dragons
Upon our return, we find that our glade has transformed. A house, its terra-cotta-tiled roof curving in a perfect replica of my home, has appeared on the white-sand beach in the shade of the great camphor trees. The wind has quieted, and the sun has shifted its angle in the hazy, dreamlike sky in a way that’s reminiscent of late afternoons in Xi’lín. On the other side of the realm, stars streak the violet sky like pearl dust.
The inside of the cottage is styled with rosewood furniture and silk cushions. A grand bed with sleek turquoise sheets sits in front of a breathtaking view of the ocean, and gauze curtains hanging in the windows ripple in the warm breeze.
The beauty of this realm feels like ashes in my heart, though, with the heaviness of what we’ve learned.
So long as Yù’chén lives, we cannot win the war against the Kingdom of Night.
“Àn’ying.” Hào’yáng comes up behind me and turns me to face him. “Talk to me. Talk to me as you did in the days when you spoke to me through the jade pendant.”
“I…” Words falter on my lips as I think of Yù’chén’s red gaze, the crack in his voice.I’m sorry that I can’t change everything, Àn’ying. But I swear to you, I’ll do everything in my power to give you what I can of the world you wanted.
Hào’yáng seems to sense the disquiet in my thoughts. He takes my face in his hands and says steadily, “I want to know what is in your heart, Àn’ying, no matter what it is.”
“I choose you,” I whisper. “I choose peace, and I choose to fight for our realm’s freedom. I choose to bring back sunlit days in my village with my family. That has never changed and never will change.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “But that doesn’t make this any less difficult. He saved my life. He gave me all that was within his ability, given his circumstances of birth. And…I loved him, Hào’yáng. I loved him, and I know what is needed to end this war, but…” My throat seizes. I mean to tell him that a part of me understands Yù’chén more deeply than I’ll ever admit—that he was born into this life, into his bloodline and title and birthright. That he never chose to begin this war, the war that continues to rage, contingent upon his life.
“I know,” Hào’yáng says softly.
“To end this war, he has to die.” I force the sentence out. “Hào’yáng, Yù’chén is the reason the mó were able to break through the Kingdom of Rivers’ wards in the first place. His blood ties him to that land, and they were able to create gateways in. If he is crowned emperor, it’s likely those gateways will become permanent, merging the two realms together. He is the reason the dragons cannot choose a side, the reason the land cannot accept you as emperor.”
There is only one way this can all end. One way we will win this war.
Yù’chén must die.
Hào’yáng tips my chin up. “We focus on the next steps for now,” he says. “We haven’t secured the backing of the dragons, but you still have your claim upon Lady Shi’ya’s title and army. We make for the Kingdom of Sky next—as was our initial plan.”
I recognize the way his expression shifts into one of quiet calculation. It has been weeks since the Kingdom of Night breached the Kingdom of Sky; we have no information about the state of the war and no way to contact anyone there. Returning to the immortal realm is like stepping into a tiger’s lair.
“It will be difficult,” Hào’yáng says. His head is tilted, his eyes have a faraway look—and I know he is contemplating strategy, running through a dozen different approaches and scenarios in his mind. “We’ll need to spend tomorrow planning.”
“Tomorrow,” I agree.
Hào’yáng studies me for a moment. “Something else is bothering you.”
I glance up sharply, surprised that he’s read me so thoroughly. Survivor’s instinct has trained me to hold my fears and vulnerabilities close to my heart. Sharing anything other than hard determination felt like a weakness, and yet…as I look up at the face of my boy in the jade, confiding in him comes to me naturally.
“When the Dragon King spoke of dragons’ true forms and how it may take centuries for She of the Moon-Frosted Sea to return, I thought of myself.” My voice feels tight, but I keep going. Keep pushing myself to open my heart to him, one word at a time. “Sansiran’s act opened my full immortal powers. Idon’t know where the mortal part of me ends and the immortal part begins. I don’t know if that means I have a long life ahead of me now.” I swallow. “I am afraid, Hào’yáng, of being in this world once everyone I love is gone.”
“Few mortals reincarnate,” Hào’yáng says, “and despite being heir to our kingdom, the rules will apply to me as well. In these realms, all is ephemeral, even across an immortal lifetime. I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or if I will live past the end of the week.” His gaze softens. “What I do know, Àn’ying, is that I would spend this lifetime with you, whether as your friend or your companion or your ally or whatever you wish us to be.” He smiles and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “So long as I can be by your side.”
I draw a deep breath. “And I think,” I say steadily, “that you owe me the whole truth.”
I lead him to the rosewood dining table, where a meal is set out for us. In silence, I pour tea into two cups fashioned out of seashells.
I look up at Hào’yáng expectantly.
