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“Did you see her ruin your garment?” he asked Lady Meiling.

She hesitated. “No, I heard from—”

His hand flew up, cutting her off. “Lady Meiling, you appear quick to cast blame without proper investigation.” He took the cloak from me and looked at the blot, which all my efforts so far had failed to lessen. The air warmed as golden light streaked from his palm into the silk. The stain disappeared, the cloak drying as though it had never been wet.

His magic was strong! As was the ease with which it flowed from him. How I wished I could do that. The gale which had sprung up to snatch Ping’er to safety seemed a distant dream. If it had come from me, I had no idea how to do it again. When I closed my eyes, I still caught tantalizing glimpses of the lights within me, but they darted away the instant I reached out. My attempts were halfhearted at best—the sight of them stabbed me with fear and remorse. If only I had not drawn the empress’s attention, I would still be home. Maybe Ping’er would have eventually taught me how to use my powers. I thought, bitterly, what use was magic when it was untrained? And there would be little hope of advancing my skills as long as I remained here.

In the Golden Lotus Mansion only the most favored servants were taught to channel their magic to perform rudimentary tasks, to aid their chores. The guards were instructed in attack and defense enchantments, from raising shields of protection to casting bolts of fire or ice. While the rest of us were expected to labor as the mortals did. Admittedly, most of the other attendants possessed a weak lifeforce, unlikely to ever become strong enough to ascend the hierarchy of immortals.

Perhaps it was true for me as well, but deep down, I did not think so. It was my powers which had drawn the Celestial Kingdom’s attention. It had been my bane, but perhaps I could turn it into an advantage—if I found someone willing to train me.

Prince Liwei passed the now pristine cloak to Lady Meiling. “I trust there will be no need to berate anyone further.” His tone hardened. “Any senior attendant in your household, or even you yourself, could have fixed this without resorting to these measures. Such behavior from a position of privilege does not reflect well upon you.”

Two red spots burned in Lady Meiling’s cheeks. A petty part of me relished watching her get reprimanded, but what would happen when the prince left? As a new voice rang out, that of Lady Meiling’s father, my anxiety increased threefold.

“Your Highness.” He hurried to where we stood, likely alerted to the Crown Prince’s presence by a vigilant attendant. Sinking to his knees, he performed a formal obeisance, touching his brow to the ground. “If my daughter or this servant has offended you, I plead for your forgiveness.”

“I was disappointed to see how Lady Meiling treats those in her household,” the prince said. “Such behavior has no place in my court. When I return, I intend to rescind the invitation to your house for the selection of my companion.”

I stifled a gasp. Lady Meiling had spoken of little but this, ever since she was chosen as a candidate. The Crown Prince had arranged this competition to choose a study companion, one who would learn alongside him. Was this what he meant by stretching the constraints which chafed him? Was he tired of his friends in the palace? It was said the prince wished to open the opportunity to the entire kingdom but was overruled. Now each candidate had to be sponsored by a noble household, who then proceeded to put forth only their kin.

Lady Meiling’s father blanched. It would be a terrible humiliation to be struck off the list and there would be endless gossip as to why his daughter had been found wanting. “Please forgive her, Your Highness,” he implored. “My daughter would be a true flower to grace your court, should she be fortunate enough to join it.”

A bold idea formed in my mind. Audacious even, but I might never have such a chance again. To no longer be at the mercy of a capricious mistress, to study with Prince Liwei, to learn to harness my powers . . . my mouth went dry at the thought. Perhaps then, I could help my mother.

I sank to my knees, performing a clumsy bow. “Your Highness, please don’t withdraw Lady Meiling’s invitation. But—” The words stuck in my throat like a firmly lodged fish bone.

He waited, his patience calming my scattered nerves. My tongue darted over my lips as I gathered the courage to say, “I wish to participate, too.”

Lady Meiling and her father spun to me, their eyes bulging. To them, I was nothing, undeserving of such an honor. I wanted to sink through the ground, unused to putting myself forward this way—but Prince Liwei’s opinion was the only one that mattered.

He blinked, seemingly taken aback for the first time since I met him. “Why?” he drew out the word.

Lady Meiling’s father had hoped to knit closer ties with the royal family. There was even talk of her winning the prince’s affection. I cared little for all that. It crossed my mind to flatter him, but I decided to speak from the heart. It was what I had done before I knew who he was. “Your Highness, it would be an honor to be in your company, but that is not why I want this—”

He tapped his chin, his lips twitching. “You don’t want to be in my company?”

“No, Your Highness. I mean, yes! Yes, I do want to be in your company,” I stammered. “But more than anything, I want to learn with you, from the greatest masters of the kingdom.” Silently, I cursed my fumbling words. He would refuse, I thought in despair. But it would have been worse not to have tried.

He stilled as though weighing my answer. Finally, he said to Lady Meiling’s father, “I will allow your daughter to keep her place, on one condition: that you sponsor this attendant’s participation as well.”

Hope soared in me like a kite swept up by the wind.

“Your Highness, she is just an attendant,” Lady Meiling’s father protested.

“What we do is not a reflection of who we are.” Prince Liwei echoed my earlier words, his gaze steely beyond his years. “Sponsor them both or none at all.”

“Yes, Your Highness.” Lady Meiling’s father bowed, as Prince Liwei walked away, disappearing into the bamboo forest.

A tense silence followed his departure. I picked up my things, intending to make myself scarce when Lady Meiling’s father waved me over.

“How do you know the Crown Prince?” he demanded.

“I only met him today,” I replied honestly.

He squinted at me, stroking his beard. “Why is he so interested in your well-being?” he wondered aloud, observing nothing in my appearance that might have prompted the Crown Prince’s defense.

From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Lady Meiling’s face, still red from fury and humiliation. Reluctant to salt her wound, I chose my words with care. “He saw me crying and I think he felt sorry for me.” It struck me, then, this was probably the truth.