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“No,” I cried out, more vehemently than intended.

There was an awkward pause as my mother exchanged a worried glance with Ping’er, and I was glad when they asked no more. Hastily, I began describing the battles I had been in, the creatures and enemies I fought in the service of the Celestial Army.

Better by far those monsters, than the ones that dwelled in my mind.

Ping’er shuddered at my description of Xiangliu, as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Were you afraid?”

“All the time.” Some might think me a coward, but I felt no shame in admitting it. I was not one of those valiant heroes who plunged into danger so fearlessly. I had been terrified of getting hurt, of failure, and most of all—of death. To never see my mother again, or my loved ones. To regret all the things left unsaid or undone. To leave my life . . . unlived. I had been lauded for my bravery, yet I knew the truth—that I had done these things despite my fear. Because not doing them frightened me more.

They were stunned to hear of how I had saved Liwei’s life. I did not tell them of the vicious things Lady Hualing made us do; I was not keen to unearth those painful memories, nor did I wish to distress them further. Although, my mother’s face turned ashen at the reveal of my identity and the bargain I had struck with the emperor.

“How could you do such a thing? Take such a risk?” She shot to her feet and paced the room, her hands clasped so tight that their knuckles were white. “What if you were sentenced to prison? To torture? To death?”

“Those were all very real possibilities then,” I laughed. But my mirth vanished, at the sight of her grave face. “Mother, I had won the Crimson Lion Talisman. The emperor’s favor. There was no better time to ask this of him. If I did not, I would not be here today. I would be spending my days ruing this lost opportunity, wishing I had tried. And that would be a worse fate.”

I paused then, searching her face. “You risked yourself, too, Mother—when you drank the elixir.” She went so still, so quiet, I almost regretted the words. “You saved me then, and I thank you for it.”

A faint smile formed on my mother’s lips, even as tears slid down her cheeks.

“Ah, enough with this sadness,” Ping’er said, wiping her eyes with a corner of her sleeve. “This is a happy day. The happiest. We will weep no more.”

“And as you can see, I’m well,” I assured them, rising to my feet and stretching out my arms. Their eyes lingered on me until they were satisfied that I was not suffering from any apparent injury. Though I said nothing of the web of white scars splayed across my chest. My wounds, still tender, from the emperor’s Sky-fire. I did not think they would ever go away; I was forever marked. But what did that matter? A few scars were nothing to what I had regained.

When my mother heard that the honorable Captain Wenzhi was from the Demon Realm, she recoiled with horror.

“Xingyin, how did you feel?” she asked with piercing insight.

I shook my head, at a loss for words—his deception was still hard for me to bear. Now that I was safe, the weight of Wenzhi’s betrayal had sunk in fully. A different pain from when Liwei and I had parted, not that I would have suffered either willingly. With Liwei, it had been circumstances which tore us apart. He was the Celestial Crown Prince with obligations to his kingdom. While with Wenzhi . . . it had been his duplicity and choices which wounded me so. My hurt was laced with remorse that I had been so careless, so imprudent as to fall for his lies. And there was bitterness, too, that he had shaken my trust in myself. That he had brought me low, to the depths of his own deceit—when I feigned my affection to drug him to escape. I was not ashamed of what I had done, but neither did I take pride in it.

Fortunately, Ping’er had more pressing questions to ask. “What happened to the pearls? The dragons?”

I fumbled for the words to do justice to their unearthly beauty, their power and grace. When I spoke of restoring the dragons’ essence, my mother’s hand covered mine. There were no recriminations for endangering myself and her freedom, just pride glowing in her face.

“The dragons are free,” Ping’er whispered. “I had believed them lost forever.”

I kept on with my story, answering their questions as well as I could, only demurring when it would hurt too much—when I was unable to conceal my feelings. By the time I finished, the sun was high, the sky an azure blue.

It was then, I untied my pouch, reaching into it. My fingers closed around the seal the Celestial Emperor had given me, as cold as a fistful of snow. My heart beat so quickly I could barely breathe as I slid from my chair and sank to my knees before my mother.

“Xingyin, why are you kneeling?” She sounded confused as she leaned forward, her hands outstretched to lift me up—

But I raised my hands to her instead. Cupped between my palms was the seal, shimmering like sunlit ice. I was trembling so hard, I did not even know why—was it with fear, excitement, hope, or all of it? Would this work? How I prayed it would.

She took the seal from my hand and held it up. “What is this?”

Before I could answer, something sparked in the metal—beams of silver-white light streaking from its depths, engulfing my mother in dazzling radiance. Ping’er and I shielded our eyes, almost blinded from the glare—which faded abruptly, the seal now darkening to a lump of dull coal.

My mother went as still as marble. When she turned to me, her eyes brimmed with wonder, shining brighter than the thousand lanterns lit.

“The enchantment is lifted. I am free.”

As Ping’er scrambled to her feet, exclaiming in delight, my body went limp with relief. Until this moment I had feared a cruel trick by the emperor. But he had kept his word. A torrential rush of emotion swept through me that untangled the knots buried deep, dispelled the lurking shadows, pried away my sorrow—my entire being filled with nothing in this moment except a soaring, blazing lightness.

Finally, our lives could begin anew.

40

In my childhood, our isolation was no great burden. I had no friends or companions, and little need for them; my mother and Ping’er had sufficed for me. But now, after a few weeks immersed in such tranquility, I found myself longing for my friends in the Celestial Kingdom and beyond.