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“Or would you prefer to accompany Captain Wenzhi again?” General Jianyun offered. “While that is his preference, this is your choice. He will lead a troop to the Eastern Sea, whose king has called for our aid to handle recent unrest.”

My mind stirred with a fragment of a tale my mother used to tell me. Her voice, soft and melodious, as she had spoken of the Eastern Sea and . . .

“The dragons,” I whispered, so wrapped in the memory of her cool hand stroking my cheek that I inhaled instinctively—a futile attempt to capture a whiff of cinnamon-wood. A dull ache gripped me, different from the stabbing pain of heartbreak, though both awoke a longing in me for something lost.

General Jianyun tensed, a rare slip in his composure. “Dragons?”

I laughed to cover my lapse—too shrill, too loud. “Just an old fable I had heard, that the Eastern Sea was the birthplace of the dragons. Did they cause this disturbance?”

He spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. “The dragons are no longer in the Eastern Sea. No longer in the Immortal Realm.”

A dozen questions flashed through my mind. All I knew of the dragons was the story I had been told. Until now, I had believed them merely a myth, a symbol of power which the emperor seemed to favor.

Before I could speak, the general continued with a frown, “It is the merfolk, the deep-sea dwellers. They have broken the peace for the first time, ever. And while it’s just petty skirmishes for now, Captain Wenzhi is preparing for any eventuality.”

The tranquil exploration of the Golden Desert or the perils of the Eastern Sea? The stench of Xiangliu’s cave sprang into my memory, the ominous chink of its scales casting a shiver down my spine. But such was the price of the path I had chosen. And as Captain Wenzhi had said, perhaps we might find more information on the Jade Dragon Bow in the Eastern Sea.

In the weeks before our departure, I trained more intensely than I ever had before. While I was lauded for slaying Xiangliu, deep down I felt I was a fraud—that such praise was undeserved. My fear and inexperience had endangered us all. How arrogant I had been to imagine myself ready, that I could leap into the ocean depths and miraculously learn how to swim. How rash, to think my feats in training could be easily replicated when blood thickened the air, pain and terror engulfing my body and mind. No, I would not make that mistake again. Each night I sank into bed, so exhausted I no longer feared being alone with my thoughts in the dark. I no longer sought the solitude of the roof. Why would I, when I drifted to sleep the moment my head dropped onto the pillow?

The sky was overcast from the clouds we summoned for our journey to the Eastern Sea. A mortal looking up would have been startled by the enormous cloudbanks moving swiftly across the heavens. I had finally overcome my trepidation to master this skill, no longer reliant on another to carry me. My energy flowed in a glittering surge, calling down the nearest cloud. Silver flecks wove into its voluminous folds, imbuing it with my magic as I soared into the skies.

The beauty of the Eastern Sea transfixed me. Brilliant-colored flowers and plants abounded along the shore, glowing with an inner radiance. I reached out to touch a petal, surprised to find it as firm and cool as porcelain. A lush forest grew at the far end, away from the shoreline, while houses of cedarwood and stone were built upon the sand. Their sloping roofs were paved with turquoise and mother-of-pearl, and in the morning light, they glittered like the cresting waves of the sea. A crystal walkway arched from the beach to the palace, which rose from the midst of the ocean.

My gaze fixed on the endless horizon as I wandered toward the shoreline, my boots sinking into the soft sand. All thought of work forgotten, I crouched down and dipped my hands into the cold water, startling the tiny, silvery fish swimming in the shallows. When a shadow fell over me, I spun around, squinting against the bright sunlight.

Captain Wenzhi towered above, an amused smile on his lips. “Have you never been to the sea?”

I straightened, shaking the droplets from my hands. A few scattered over him but he did not seem to mind. “I’ve seen it when flying above or in pictures. And . . . someone told me it was beautiful.” My mother’s wistful words echoed in my mind, her hopes for the life she had envisioned for me.

Footsteps crunched the sand as several soldiers approached. Beneath their watchful stares, I wrapped my palm over my fist and bowed. “Captain Wenzhi, I await your command.”

“See to your responsibilities before you acquaint yourself with our surroundings.” His tone was stern, yet his smile did not waver as he turned and strode to the waiting soldiers.

I kept my head down, hiding my face. An onlooker might think I was ashamed to be reprimanded, but as I gazed at the ever-changing waters my spirits were lighter than the wandering breeze. And for the first time in months, I sensed the stirrings of anticipation.

After the camp was organized, I accompanied Captain Wenzhi across the crystal bridge for his audience with the king. The palace gleamed against the sea and sky—a shimmering edifice of rock quartz, turquoise, and mother-of-pearl, with a two-tiered roof of gilded tiles. The large entrance doors were crafted from ash wood and inlaid with gold, over which hung a plaque inscribed with the characters:

幽珊宫

Fragrant Coral Palace

All around were more of the exquisite flowers and plants I had seen on the beach—sprays of vermilion branches, bright green flowers shaped like fans, pink tubular stalks, and smooth rocks covered with glowing red moss. An enchanted garden plucked from the heart of the ocean.

Through the doors, an attendant guided us down a long flight of stairs. The lower levels of the palace were built underwater, crafted from the same clear stone as the bridge. It was like walking on the ocean floor, surrounded by shifting water and coral reefs all around. As we entered a crowded hall with soaring ceilings, silence fell over the gathered immortals. Only then did I hear the melodious clink from the strands of ivory shells which swayed behind the agate thrones. I had only seen King Yanzheng of the Eastern Sea once before, at Liwei’s banquet. Silver hair framed his smooth, unlined face and his eyes glowed against his dark skin. His teal silk robe was embroidered with waves, edged by glistening curves of white thread. A gold fan-shaped crown, studded with pearls, rested upon his hair.

Captain Wenzhi and I knelt on the floor, stretching out our clasped hands, as we bowed. “The Celestial Kingdom has answered the Eastern Sea’s call for aid,” he intoned formally. “Our swords will be drawn, and our bows stretched in your service.”

“Rise,” the king commanded, sounding pleased. “We are grateful for the assistance of the Celestial Kingdom during these troubled times. The merfolk’s attacks caught us unaware as they had always lived peacefully among us before. Captain Wenzhi, your reputation has reached even our ears in the Eastern Sea and we thank the Celestial Emperor for sending us his finest warrior.”

Captain Wenzhi bowed again. “Your Majesty is kind, but I do not deserve such praise. It is my honor to serve to the best of my abilities.”

King Yanzheng stroked his beard, “Humility accompanying such talent is rare.” He gestured toward me. “Is this lady your wife?”

Strangled noises slid from my mouth as Captain Wenzhi’s ears reddened. “No, Your Majesty. This is . . . First Archer Xingyin of the Celestial Army.”

My ears pricked up at his introduction. First Archer?

The king glanced at my armor. “Ah,” he nodded, with a bemused smile. “We do not have female warriors here.”