Page 3

“Minister Wu. Share your discovery,” the empress commanded.

Footsteps shuffled forward. “Earlier today a significant shift in the aura of the moon was detected. Unprecedented, in all my years of study. This can be no coincidence.”

In his smooth voice, I sensed an undercurrent of excitement. Did he relish my mother’s troubles, as the empress seemed to? Anger seared me at the thought, despite my prickling unease. That rush in my veins earlier when I had touched the lights, the whispering in the air . . . had that somehow drawn them here?

“I hope our leniency has not made you bold,” the empress hissed. “You were fortunate before, to have been imprisoned here in comfort for stealing your husband’s Elixir of Immortality. You escaped the lightning whip and the flaming rod then. But that will change if we discover you’re engaging in further deceit. Confess now and we might be merciful,” she lashed out, shattering the tranquility of our home.

My fist flew to my mouth, smothering my gasp. I had never asked my mother how she ascended to immortality, sensing it caused her pain. Yet ever since I read the tale of the sunbirds, one question kept winding through my mind: Where was my father? To hear he had been bestowed the elixir, and my mother was accused of stealing it . . . something twisted in my gut. The empress was wrong, I told myself fiercely, burying a treacherous kernel of doubt.

My mother neither flinched nor denied these vile accusations. Was she accustomed to such treatment from the empress? As I peeked into the room again, she folded over to press her forehead and palms to the floor. “Your Celestial Majesty. Minister Wu. Perhaps this phenomenon was caused by the recent alignment of the stars. The Azure Dragon’s constellation has entered the path of the moon, which may have distorted our auras. When it passes, things should return to normal.” She spoke like a scholar who studied the skies, though I knew she had no interest in such matters.

A long silence followed, punctured by a rhythmic tapping—the empress’s pointed gold sheaths digging into the soft wood of the armrest. Finally, she rose, her attendants gathering behind her.

“That may be so, but we will come again. You have been left alone for far too long.”

I was glad for them to leave, despite the threat that lurked beneath the empress’s tone like a silk cord yanked tight. Unable to bear listening to more, I crept back to my room and lay on the bed, gazing out through the window. The sky had darkened into the elusive violet-gray of dusk, when the last of day gives way to night. My mind was numb, though I still sensed when those unfamiliar auras faded away. Moments later, my mother pulled the doors apart, her face whiter than the stone walls.

My doubts vanished. I did not believe the Celestial Empress. My mother would never have betrayed my father. Not even for immortality.

I scrambled up from the bed, coming to her side. I was almost as tall as her now. “Mother, I heard what the empress said to you.”

She threw her arms around me, clutching me tight. Against her shoulder, I sagged with relief that she was not angry, though her body was tense with strain.

“We don’t have much time. The empress could return at any moment with her soldiers,” she whispered.

“What can they do? We did nothing wrong.” My stomach roiled, an unpleasant sensation. “Are we prisoners? What did the empress mean about the elixir?”

She leaned back to look into my face. “Xingyin, you’re not a prisoner here. But I am. The Celestial Emperor bestowed the Elixir of Immortality upon your father, for killing the sunbirds and saving the world. Houyi did not take it, though. There was just enough for one and he did not want to ascend to the skies without me. I was with child, our happiness seemed complete. And so, he hid the elixir, only I knew where.”

Her voice broke then. “But my body was too weak to bear you. The physicians told us that you . . . that we would not survive the birth. Houyi did not want to believe them, he did not want to give up—bringing me to one after the other, searching for a different prognosis. Yet deep down, I knew they spoke the truth.” She paused, a tautness around her eyes like she was reaching into her memories, those which hurt. “When he was called to battle, I was left alone. The pains began then, far too early, in the deep of night. Such agony tore through my body, I could barely cry out. I was so afraid of dying, of losing you.”

As she fell silent, the question burst from me, “What happened?”

“I took the elixir from its hiding place, uncorked its stopper, and drank it.”

In the stillness of the room, all I could hear was the beating of my own heart. My hands were no longer warming my mother’s but were as cold as hers.

“Do you hate me, Xingyin?” she asked in a shaking voice. “For betraying your father?”

The empress’s words were true. For a moment I could not move, my insides curling at the revelation. If my mother had not taken the elixir, perhaps we might have survived. My family, unbroken. Yet I knew how much she loved my father, how greatly she mourned his loss. And no matter what, I was grateful to be alive.

I swallowed the last of my hesitation. “No, Mother. You saved us.”

Her gaze was distant, veiled in memory. “Leaving your father . . . oh, how it hurt. Though I must admit I did not want to die. Nor could I let you die. Only later did I learn that gifts from the Celestial Emperor came with unseen strings. That such decisions were not for mortals to make. The emperor was enraged that it was I who became immortal instead of your illustrious father. The empress accused me of using trickery to obtain immortality which I had not earned.”

“Did you explain?” I asked. “Surely if they knew it was to save us—”

“I dared not. The empress seemed hostile, as though she bore some grudge against your father. She even accused him of ingratitude for spurning the emperor’s gift. I knew then, she had sought to punish rather than reward him for killing the sunbirds. She would not hesitate to harm you. How could I tell them of your existence? To shield you from their wrath, I kept your birth a secret. I confessed my theft. As punishment, I was exiled to the moon—an enchantment cast upon me which binds me here for eternity. I cannot leave this place, no matter how much I want to.” In a low voice, she added, “A palace you cannot escape is a prison nonetheless.”

I struggled to breathe, my chest heaving like a fish flipped out of the water. I had thought our lives so peaceful, so safe from all the dangers in my books. To learn we had incurred the wrath of the most powerful immortals in the realm shook me to my core.

“But why did the empress come today, after all this time?”

“Our auras emanate from our lifeforce, the core of our magic—those lights you see in your mind. Since you were born, we did our best to conceal your power. Despite our efforts, the empress sensed you today.”

My throat closed tight. “I didn’t know. This is all my fault.” How stupid and reckless I had been! Because I was bored I had ignored my mother’s warning, broken my promise, and hurled us into the gravest of danger.

“I am to blame, too. I told you not to reach for your magic, but I should have explained why—that it might alert the Celestial Kingdom to your presence.” She sighed. “It would have happened eventually; with every year you grow stronger. If they find you, our punishment will be severe—I have no doubt. I fear less for myself, but what they would do to you, an immortal child who was never meant to be.”