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I bolted upright, my scream piercing the night. My eyes darted around the dark chamber as I gripped the bedcovers, crumpling them between my fingers. I was not home. I was not too late. My mother and Ping’er were not dead.

Such nightmares had plagued me before, yet never in the Courtyard of Eternal Tranquility—until now. Perhaps my encounter with the Celestial Empress or the uncertainty of my future had caused a relapse into the fears of my past.

Footsteps pounded across the courtyard. My doors were flung open, the cool night air rushing in as Liwei stood in the entrance. He crossed the room and sat down on my bed, lacing his fingers through mine, his grip warm and strong.

“You were screaming. Are you all right?”

“A dream.” My breaths were shaky and uneven. My terror had been all too real. The image of my mother’s lifeless form flashed across my mind—my fear melding with a wrenching longing for home. Tears, unbidden, pricked my eyes.

His other hand cradled my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. He had only seen me cry once before, when we first met by the river. Without hesitation, he pulled me into his arms and held me tight. I clutched him in return, his embrace awakening a need in me—unfamiliar and fierce. My guard lowered, I let myself be comforted by his strength, my body sinking against his as the dam on my emotions sprang free.

My tears drenched his clothes, the white silk damp now as I lifted my head away. Only then did I realize he wore just his inner robe; he must have come right from bed in his haste. My pulse raced, although I had seen him dressed so a thousand times before. With a corner of my sleeve, I dabbed the thin material to dry it. His heartbeat quickened against my palm as his arms tightened around me, kindling a heat which surged through my veins.

Our months of companionship melted away; it was like we were seeing each other for the first time. No longer was he the youth I had befriended, the young man who teased me. His touch inflamed my senses, his gaze stole my breath. I reached out to smooth his long hair from his face, tousled from slumber and gleaming darkly against the whiteness of his robe.

My lips parted. His eyes shifted to them, as deep as midnight pools. He bent and pressed his mouth to mine firmly, yet with an aching tenderness. I inhaled deeply, his warm clean scent laced with the fragrance of the flowers from the courtyard. One of his hands clasped the back of my head, while the other encircled my waist. My arms were wound tight around his neck, I did not know how they came to be there. We held each other so closely, his breath slipped into my mouth, hot and sweet as it mingled with my own. His lips pressed down harder, parting mine—our tongues seeking and entangling. A melting heat spread from my core all the way down to my toes. My limbs were weak as though turned to liquid, as we fell, entwined, onto my bed.

A gust of wind surged through the open doors. The pale blue curtains around my bed billowed, as soft as gossamer clouds. As the window panels rattled, I jerked upright . . . shivering from the loss of his warmth. My gaze shifted to the courtyard beyond. Anyone passing by could have seen what we were doing. Fortunately, it was still dark. The moon in the sky our only witness.

He sat up beside me, running his hands through his hair. “Xingyin, I’m sorry.”

His words were a splash of cold water, a rude awakening from my daze. Of course, he would feel regret! In the darkness of night, stirred by pity and the outpouring of my emotions—it was little wonder he felt obliged to indulge me. And I had been only too eager to take advantage of his kindness.

“You have nothing to feel sorry about.” My voice was light as I turned away, letting my hair veil my face. In his silence, I read agreement. “This was a mistake for us both. A moment of madness which will be forgotten by morning.” A clumsy attempt to salvage my pride.

He clasped my hand tightly, pressing it to his chest. “Madness? I’ve never felt so sane in my life. Do you want to forget this happened? I cannot.”

My heart beat wildly, as the wings of a bird against the bars of its cage. Yet fear and reason, ever vigilant, reared up. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

He tilted his head toward me. “Why?”

His question was startling in its simplicity. But it was not as easy as he believed; there were too many reasons against us which he knew nothing of . . . because I had kept them from him.

He lowered his voice, as though making a confession, “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time now.”

Heat suffused me again, gliding across my skin like I had lain in the sun. His words drove my doubts away as I reached out and pulled him close, as he bent his head to mine once more. My eyes widened and then drifted shut, lost in a languid haze of desire like I was floating on a river of stars. When we finally broke apart, our breathing was harsh and ragged as we lay entangled in the moonlight, until a stirring in the stillness heralded the approach of dawn.

Remembering the day, I scrambled to my feet, digging through the drawer for my gift. As I pressed the silk-wrapped bundle into his hand, I suppressed the urge to snatch it back again. What was a humble shell to the priceless treasures he owned?

He pulled the cloth away, staring at the shell within. I picked it up and blew gently into it, the shell glowing as my song filled the room. A joyous one, rippling with promise and hope—and yearning, I realized now. The song of my heart, before I had known it myself.

He did not move until it had finished. “It’s beautiful. What is it called?” he wanted to know.

I smiled, through the sudden thickness in my throat. “It’s yours to name. I composed it for you.”

He took the shell from me and lifted it again, but I caught his arm. “Listen to it when I’m not here.”

His body stiffened as he twisted around to search my face. “Are you leaving?”

“I didn’t mean it that way. It’s your birthday gift, not a farewell one.” My conscience pricked me at how I evaded his question.

He threaded his fingers through mine again, his tension easing. “Thank you. I’ve never received a more wonderful gift.” He added, with a teasing smile, “And now, I don’t have to plead with you to play me a song anymore.”

I drew away, glaring at him with mock anger. “Am I so easily replaced?”

“I never want to find out.” With a regretful sigh, he released me and rose from my bed. “I must leave before the attendants awaken.”

I gathered my courage, calling after him. “Liwei, we don’t have lessons tomorrow. Shall we spend the day together?”