Hào’yáng.I can’t leave him here, defenseless.
He’s stirring slightly as I run to him and kneel by his side. His skin is hot, almost feverish to the touch, his chest bare and corded with raw power. A long white scar runs up each of his arms where he cut himself to join his blood with thewater—healed already, perhaps by the magic of his ties with the river.
Hào’yáng’s eyes flutter open, and within their familiar brown, I find my boy in the jade. The tightness to my chest dissipates, replaced by a sinking stone of trepidation in my stomach as he speaks the words I most dreaded.
“The land rejected me.”
3
Àn’ying
Xi’lín Village, Central Province, Kingdom of Rivers
We are silent as we wing our way back to Xi’lín astride Meadowsweet. The wind makes it difficult to speak, but the weight we carry at our failures this morning is a shared feeling. The sun glides through gray clouds, their shadows drifting across the pine forests and silver rivers beneath us—a reminder of the darkness into which our realm continues to fall. It is still morning, and Ma and Méi’zi will be making breakfast at home, but we have only a handful of hours of sunlight left before the long night of the demon realm swallows our day.
We land in the forest near my village. Here, at least, near the warded walls of Xi’lín, we’re safer—though the concept of safety is fraught.
“Àn’ying.” Hào’yáng’s fingers slip easily through mine. I turn to face him, recalling the raw power of his arms and chest. He’s looking at my shoulder. My wound has healed with the help of my talisman, but the blood remains. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“What for? I’m all right.”
“For putting you in danger.” Hào’yáng exhales slowly. “My father told me once that my duty would come into conflict with my personal will—and that I should always choose my duty to the realm and the people.”
Lifting my gaze to his, I lay it bare between us and speak the truth. “It would have been my duty to defend you with my life,” I whisper, “but above that, Hào’yáng, I did it out ofmypersonal will.”
His grip tightens on mine. “That’s not what I wanted. I don’t wish to be the reason you’re in danger, Àn’ying. Ever.”
“Hào’yáng, you’re the only hope for our realm. You’re the only way for me to save Ma and Méi’zi and my village and everything I’ve loved in this life. I can’t lose you.”
Something like sorrow flickers over his face before hardening into sharp-edged resolve. “You’re right,” Hào’yáng says, and he lets go of my hand. “We cannot stay here much longer. We need to move forward with the next steps of our strategy.” He tilts his head, his gaze faraway, and I recognize the calculating look that slides over his brows. “Àn’ying, I believe we need to go to the immortal realm. The answers to how you will go about inheriting Lady Shi’ya’s powers and army lie there. We need to focus on that part of our plan while I resolve…mine.”
I draw a deep breath. “I know why the land couldn’t accept you,” I tell him.
Hào’yáng’s eyes cut to mine. “Because of Yù’chén,” he says, and everything in me tightens. “You told me he was the halfling child of my father and the demon queen. I wasn’t certain before whether he would be eligible for the mortal throne, but it seems he is.” Hào’yáng’s hand goes to the hilt of Azure Tide.“It seems the land will not accept me with him still as a contender for the throne. So either I kill him…or he kills me.”
His words crack through the air, shattering the illusion of the idyllic, golden morning I’d dreamt of: bringing fresh meat back to Xi’lín for breakfast with Méi’zi, quiet moments with Ma catching sunlight through our plum blossom tree.
I’d wanted just one more day like that, away from the inevitability of war, of kingdoms, of realms.
But the mó in the forest served as the clearest reminder of the danger we’re in. I recall her song and ominous words:There are two heirs—one mortal and one halfling—so neither can triumph.
“Then we leave for the Kingdom of Sky tomorrow,” I say. “It’s only a matter of time before Sansiran and her army know we’re here. Before they come after you.” I touch a palm to my chest, where the lotus hides beneath the folds of my dress. “I’ll find a way for the lotus to recognize me and to summon Lady Shi’ya’s army. Then…” I find that I can’t finish, so Hào’yáng does for me.
“Then we strike the mó at our Imperial City when their forces are busy with the war in the Kingdom of Sky,” he says. “We break their stronghold on the mortal realm and deal them a critical blow. Next, in order to ascend the mortal throne and push the Kingdom of Night out of our realm once and for all…I must kill my half brother.”
Ice has frozen over my heart. Yù’chén’s eyes, so earnest and dark and wide, are in my mind, the echo of his whisper—real…it’s real—in my ears. I hear my voice, as though from a distance, say: “Yes.”
Hào’yáng is silent for a long while. There is something ofregret to his tone when he finally speaks again. “In that case, I’d like to seek your mother’s permission for our betrothal today.”
I’d known this was coming; after all, I’d agreed to this alliance between us. But for some reason, the detachment in his tone sinks like a weight into my stomach.
I’m to be married.
I’d never thought myself destined for any great romance like those our epics sang of. But as I think of love and the closest I have come to knowing it, my traitorous heart unfurls a memory I’d tried to banish to the back of my mind.
I want you, more than anything in my life. More than anything I have ever felt. I…want you.
I inhale sharply and twist my head to push the voice away. A part of me wants to dig out everything I ever felt for Yù’chén, every memory I have of him, and fling them into the ocean.
