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He paused by the entrance, nodding once, his lips curved as he closed the doors after him.

Alone once more, my mind awoke from the spell I was under. Guilt assailed me, fierce and unrelenting. The Celestial Emperor had shown my mother no mercy, condemning her to eternal imprisonment. I recalled my mother’s fear of the empress, her terror stabbing me with remorse. How could I feel this way about their son? Was I so weak, to betray her so easily?

I pressed my fingers to my temples, shoving them through my hair. But this was no betrayal of my mother. Even in the depths of her misery, she had not spoken a word of spite against the emperor and empress. She would not hold this against me; all she ever wanted was my happiness. I was my own person, separate from my parents—as was Liwei. And he was nothing like them. After all our time together, I knew that better than anyone. He was my dearest friend, before . . . what he was to me now. And I would not hold him to account for these events long past and circumstances beyond his control.

How I wished I could unburden my heart to him, to reveal all the parts of myself. Liwei would do nothing to hurt me, but I hesitated to entangle him in my affairs, to pit him against his parents when I knew of his tense relations with them. And the coward in me recoiled from his disappointment; a lover’s deceit pierced deeper than a friend’s.

I hated these lies, this fear and doubt. But all this paled at the threat of discovery. The Jade Palace was not a place for sharing such secrets. And here, my mother and I would find little mercy from the emperor’s harshness, the empress’s spite. More so, after all I had learned of how our families were bound. No, I would not break my promise to my mother—not until I knew it would be safe.

I lay awake in my bed until the rays of the sun slid out. In the morning light, last night’s desire faded to the haze of a dream, except for the memory of his lips seared deep into my soul.

11

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My black hair fell smoothly to my waist, my skin glowing from my afternoons in the sun. While my features might be unremarkable, I was content with what I saw—even the cleft in my chin which the Celestial Empress had criticized as a mark of ill-temper.

I reached for one of my usual dresses, but then pulled out a light blue silk instead, embroidered with colorful birds. When I slipped it on, a starling stitched in green thread spread its wings and flew once around the skirt. My lifeforce had indeed strengthened. Minyi had asked her friend, a skilled seamstress, to make this—after complaining my clothes were too plain and unbecoming. My closet was indeed filled with white garments. I had not minded, as they reminded me of my mother.

But now, life was vivid with color.

An unusual interest in my appearance gripped me today; rarely had I dressed with such care. There was a spring in my step as I walked across the courtyard, but outside Liwei’s chamber, I hesitated. Had it been a dream? What if he did not remember? Worse yet, what if he regretted all that had happened? Steeling myself, I pushed the doors open and entered.

He was already up, sitting by the table, in a brocade robe knotted around his waist with a length of black silk. A ring of silver pulled his hair up, flowing like a river of ink down his back. His eyes were as dark as they had always been, yet a hundred times more beautiful to me now.

His gaze lingered on me as he rose to his feet. “Don’t look so astonished. I can get dressed without someone holding up my clothes for me.” A smile tugged at his lips, as he added, “Though I much prefer it when it’s you.”

My treacherous mind conjured up images of all the times I had draped silk and brocade over his shoulders. How my fingers had grazed the hollow of his neck whenever I adjusted the folds of his robe, my hands encircling his waist to tie his sash. I had not given it a second thought then, yet now my heart raced as my throat went dry.

“Xingyin.”

My name on his lips stirred me. I glanced at him, noticing the slender box that he held out to me. “It’s your birthday, not mine.”

“It’s good luck to exchange gifts,” he said, by way of explanation.

When I made no move to take the box, he flipped the lid open and pulled out a hairpin. Crafted from wood, it was lacquered in rich shades of blue, studded with tiny clear stones which snared and fractured the light.

My breath caught in my throat. Hairpins were traditionally gifted as a love token, but I quenched the hope that sparked in me. We had made no such promises to each other. As for last night . . . I was still unsure what it meant in the light of day.

“I made this a while ago, to match the meaning of your name. It took me a while to get the colors right.”

He had made this? For me? It was exquisite, his skill capturing all the temperamental moods of the sky. And even if it were not, even if it were just a shaft of plain wood—it would mean no less to me.

He leaned forward and slid the pin into my hair. Just as he had the first time we met.

“Thank you,” I managed, lifting my gaze to his.

“We only have the morning. My father has asked to see me before the banquet.” He picked up a tiered basket from the table, before reaching for my hand with his other. “Will you change your mind and come tonight? It would mean a great deal to me to have you there. It would make it a lot less dull.” His mouth curved into a persuasive smile.

My insides twisted at the thought of seeing Their Celestial Majesties. But this was Liwei’s celebration and a part of me was curious about this side of him which I so rarely saw—that of the heir to the throne. And now, I found myself wanting to spend each moment with him, feeling an unfamiliar twinge when we were apart.

“Yes,” I told him. “I will come.”

In the courtyard, Liwei summoned a cloud. It struck me that he could now leave the palace at will, which meant he would assume his court duties soon. I pushed aside a wave of anxiety; I would not taint today with doubts of tomorrow or fears of the past. Although when I stared at the cloud, I could not help thinking of the last time I had flown on one with Ping’er. Stepping onto it, Liwei pulled me up behind him. The cloud was soft and cool, yet firm beneath my feet. When it darted through the air, I stumbled, but Liwei grabbed my hand to steady me and did not let go.

After a few moments, I began to relax. The cloud soared so smoothly that I soon forgot my fears. Flying in the daylight was infinitely more pleasurable than fleeing in the night. Towering mountains, shimmering lakes, and lush emerald forests unfurled like a scroll painting beneath our feet. As we darted through a light shower of rain, the droplets that grazed my skin were as refreshing as morning dew. I might have been cold with the gathering dark clouds obscuring the sun, but for Liwei’s hands over mine, infusing me with warmth.

We landed in the middle of a forest, the likes of which I had never seen before. Not in the Celestial Kingdom, not even in my dreams. Peach blossom trees bloomed as far as my eye could see, their branches laden with pink and white flowers that laced the air with a heady sweetness. Whenever the wind blew, a scattering of petals drifted to the ground.

I caught one in my palm—velvet soft, lighter than air. “Where are we?”