It falls through. He wasn’t lying—he is an illusion.
As I pull my blade back, Yù’chén makes as though to grab my wrist. His fingers skim over the skin of my hand, and though I know it isn’t possible, I feel a phantom twinge where we touch.
“A scorpion, through and through,” he says softly.
“You knew what I was the first time we met,” I reply, my voice uneven. “You deceived me, you used me, and you broke me first.”
He’s silent for several heartbeats. “I broke you first,” he says softly, tasting the words. It’s impossible to read his expression; his face is turned away from the light.
“Have you brought your army, then?” I glance out at the night beyond, so black it’s impossible to make out anything. “Are you here to flaunt your victory?”
He gives a shake of his head. “Contrary to your worst assumptions of me, there is no army. No one is coming, and no one knows I’m here.”
“You can’t betray your kingdom. You can’t defy your mother’s will.” I exhale sharply. “You’re bound by the covenant with her.”
“My mother broke her end of the covenant with me when she drowned you. Unbeknownst to her, I am no longer bound to her. She believes the covenant still holds between us because you lived—but you didn’t. You were brought back tolife because of the immortality in your blood. I asked her to spare your life in return for my loyalty, but she killed you that night.”
I stare at him, my heartbeats growing uneven. What he is saying makes sense; I felt it that night, the cold call of death, the rushing waters of the Nine Fountains as death had tried to sweep away my soul…but my core had snapped, unlocking the immortal part of me inherited from my birth mother.
“How did you find me?” I ask, stalling as I think of a way I might contact the immortals. I am weakened greatly by the poison spreading through my veins, but surely if I scream, someone will come—a guard posted nearby, a soldier out on the sparring field…
Yù’chén’s eyes lower to my left arm. “That was my spell on the wards that you triggered. My mother asked me to weave a talisman that would activate with any movement through it, meant to greatly weaken trespassers. I detected your presence and found you here.”
Demonic poison, Cai’hé had said of the shadows that writhed just beneath my skin. My throat tightens as I realize I’m going to die by Yù’chén’s hand after all.
Perhaps I deserve it. Wouldn’t I do the same if I were in his shoes?
Yù’chén splays his hands, as though my poisoning is a mere inconvenience. “I told you once, Àn’ying: The brightest and most beautiful flowers are the most poisonous.”
I would have thought I would be angry—furious, even. Yet all I feel is a hollow exhaustion, a déjà vu of the irony of our fates playing out before us. “Have you come to gloat, then?” My voice is a near-rasp. “Come to tell me I chose wrong, and these are the consequences?”
That insouciant curve to his lips fades slightly. He watches me from across the chamber—across an entire realm—in silence, those black eyes gleaming with eerie shades of crimson.
“I came to give you the cure,” he says simply, as though he’s offering me a gourd of plum wine. “My shadowcrane can draw out the demonic energies in your veins.”
My voice is a whisper when I say, “And why would you do that?”
“Don’t ask questions you know the answer to, Àn’ying.”
Unspoken words linger between us, and I suddenly find it hard to breathe.
“Leave her,” I hear myself saying before I can stop. It’s what I should have said back in the Kingdom of Night, before I chose to step through the gateway to the mortal realm. I think back to the way he gripped my hand, the way he looked at me.Come with me, I wanted to say then.
Instead, he said,Àn’ying, stay.
“Ihaveleft her before.” Those aren’t the words I expect from his mouth. “I’ve run back to the mortal realm more than once, after the emperor found out what I was and ordered me killed. I missed it so much—the blue skies and the forests, and the way the sunlight slanted through the leaves. Even if it didn’t want me, it was home for me, growing up.” He closes his eyes briefly. “My mother found me each time.”
There it is again, that ache in my heart that seems to surface whenever I’m with him.
“So run to the ends of the realms,” I whisper. “Fight her.”Come with us.
And then what?a voice in my mind asks. As long as he lives, the Kingdom of Night’s connection to the Kingdom of Rivers lives with him.
Yù’chén is watching me with that eerie stillness of the mó again. It is impossible to fathom the thoughts running through his mind in this moment. I wonder if he, too, is imagining a lifetime where he is born differently—fully mortal, in a world of sunlight instead of darkness.
At last, he smiles at me. It is gentle, tender, as though I have just confessed my love to him.
“I’ve thought of it, more than you could know. And I’ve tried, before I met you. But my mother would hunt me to the ends of every realm. I am born of her flesh and ichor; even without a covenant, she and I are bound by ancient demonic magic that cannot be broken. No matter how far I run, my path will always lead back to her.” His smile grows humorless. “This is the fate I was born to walk, Àn’ying. Now I am choosing to make a decision within its path.” Yù’chén holds out a hand, long fingers splayed. “You can trust me one last time. Or you can tell me to leave and I will, and you can pretend you never saw me here. The choice is yours.”
