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The empress pursed her lips. “The rules cannot be broken.” Her tone was sharp with disapproval.

I kept my face lowered so she would not see my stifled fear and resentment. “Your Celestial Majesty, the rules only stated that I had to select an instrument to perform. It did not specify from where.”

Someone gasped. I glanced up to see the chief attendant take a hasty step away.

The empress glowered as she tossed her head back, the jade beads around her neck clicking furiously. “You insolent girl, how dare you argue with me?”

“Honorable Mother, it’s our mistake that no flute was provided,” Prince Liwei interjected. “I don’t see why it matters if she plays her own. Are not our instruments of equal standard to any other?”

The empress leaned forward as she addressed me in a chilling tone, “Your flute will be inspected. Should we discover any enchantment upon it, you will be whipped until you cannot walk for attempting to cheat.”

“There will be no whipping today,” Prince Liwei said tightly. One of his hands was clenched in his lap.

She did not reply, gesturing toward someone behind her. “Minister Wu, conduct the inspection.”

An immortal with pale brown eyes stepped out from the crowd, the amber in his hat gleaming like drops of gold. It was him; the minister who had discovered the shift in the moon’s energy, who had alerted the empress and brought her to my home. Perhaps he was merely a vigilant courtier, but my gut clenched at the sight of him. In my shock at seeing the empress, in the tumult of the day—I had not realized he was here, too.

I could feel the empress’s gaze upon me, everyone was staring at me as I fumbled with the ties of my pouch. If they believed me nervous, I was glad for it—better that than the simmering fury which threatened to erupt. How dare she accuse me of cheating? Perhaps, in her mind, someone like me would have no scruples. Perhaps, I thought viciously, she only suspected me of what she was capable of herself.

I bowed, raising my arms to offer up my flute. An attendant rushed to take it and passed it to Minister Wu. His expression was one of bored disinterest, a far cry from the eagerness he had shown in my mother’s troubles. Did he find today’s proceedings tiresome? Did he resent being ordered around by the empress? Nevertheless, he performed his role admirably, inspecting my flute with meticulous care. How I hated seeing my precious instrument—my mother’s gift—between his gloved fingers.

Finally, he turned to the empress. “There is no enchantment.”

Her displeasure was evident in her curt nod. “Proceed,” she ordered.

As the empress’s attendant returned my flute, my fingers closed tight around it. I breathed deeply, trying to loosen the tightness in my chest, still burning with the humiliation of her accusation. Closing my eyes, I tried to shut out the indifferent strangers around me, searching for the melody I wanted—of a bird’s desperate hunt for her stolen children, until she froze to death when winter came. One of sorrow, grief, and loss, to channel the emotions swirling through me. As a stillness swept over me, I lifted the flute, rejoicing in the familiar press of the cool jade against my lips. How I had missed this. The song began playfully, with joyous notes rippling through the air, soaring clear and pure. Slowly, the melody morphed into jagged uncertainty and terror, before plunging into the abyss of despair.

The last note faded. With trembling hands, I lowered the flute. Ping’er had praised my playing, but would it be deemed lacking here? I glanced up to find the empress white-faced and furious—surely, that was a good sign, though I could not read Minister Wu’s expression. A clap rang out, joined by others, the sounds crashing together like thunder. A fierce gladness coursed through me that regardless of the outcome, I had tried my best.

Prince Liwei and the empress conferred for a long time. As the last performer of the day, I had remained in my seat before them and caught snatches of their conversation.

The empress tried her utmost to sway her son. “Lady Lianbao’s heritage is impeccable. She is well-educated, intelligent, graceful, and musical. How can you prefer a mere attendant to her? She looks so common and that mark on her chin is a sure sign of an ill-temper.”

I clasped my hands in my lap, squeezing my fingers together.

“Honorable Mother, if we chose someone based only on their heritage, there would be no need to hold this event today.” His tone was respectful yet firm.

Silence hung in the air as they stared at each other. I saw little resemblance in their features, for which I was glad—a warmth to Prince Liwei’s face, instead of the cold, stark planes of the empress.

Finally, she sighed, an exasperated sound. “Such a trifling matter does not merit my time. I expect you to obey us in more important concerns.” Without another word, the empress rose and left the courtyard, her attendants hurrying after her.

When my name was announced, I did not hear the cheers and well-wishes. My heart swelled with relief, yet I still feared this was just a dream. Across the crowd, my restless gaze sought Prince Liwei’s. Only after I saw his answering smile did I dare to hope, as the first flower springing forth after a long winter.

5

The sun was low in the sky by the time I packed my belongings at the Golden Lotus Mansion. I could have left the next day, but I had no reason to delay; there were no farewells to make, no one I would miss here. In the days after the competition, Lady Meiling and her other attendants had kept me busy with an endless stream of unpleasant and humiliating tasks. I would have liked to say that such maliciousness slid off me as water on oil, that the joy in my heart left no room for bitterness to fester. But I was neither so magnanimous nor forgiving. I had learned by now that nothing irked my tormentors as much as indifference. And so, I had smiled at their commands, bowed and complied, all the while imagining their dismay when I left for the palace, to never return.

As I walked up the white marble stairs which led to the Jade Palace, my feet were lighter than the clouds that drifted above. To my surprise, I found the chief attendant waiting by the entrance. His lips thinned in disapproval at the sight of me, or perhaps he did not appreciate the lateness of the hour.

“Her Celestial Majesty asked that I instruct you in your duties.” Without waiting for my response, he strode through the red-lacquered doors, leaving me to hurry after him.

Gripped by anxiety before, all I could recall was a blurred haze of vibrant color and exquisite beauty. Calmer today, I studied my surroundings, discovering that the Jade Palace was the size of a small city and laid out with methodical precision. The soldiers were housed in the outermost perimeter along the palace walls, while a little farther in were the rooms of the attendants and palace staff. Ringed by flowering gardens and carp-filled ponds was the Outer Court, the quarters of honored guests and select courtiers without an estate of their own. The Inner Court was where the royal family resided, their sprawling courtyards clustered around the heart of the palace: the Imperial Treasury, the Chamber of Reflection, and the Hall of Eastern Light.

Lost in this maze of winding paths, each hall and chamber with its own name and designated purpose, I recalled the simplicity of my home with a pang. While the grounds of the Pure Light Palace were vast, our needs were undeniably more modest with no courtiers to entertain, the uncomplicated meals which we prepared ourselves, and a wild forest in our backyard.

As we walked, the chief attendant droned on about the rules of etiquette. “You must kneel when you greet His Highness and whenever he issues you a command. At all other times, bow from your waist when he speaks to you. Always address His Highness using his title and never his name. If you have the good fortune to meet Their Celestial Majesties, kneel and press your forehead to the ground until they give you permission to rise. If you walk past someone of higher rank, stop and bow. Speak in a soft tone, dress neatly as befits your station—”

I listened attentively at first, but my attention soon wandered to the ornately carved ceilings and pillars along the corridor. Gilded phoenixes were interspersed with crimson peonies and emerald-green leaves. The walkway cut through a garden which I longed to explore, shaded with magnolia and crabapple trees—