Page 52

“I found it in the marketplace. The one that appears every five years in the Celestial Kingdom,” I said quickly.

“A fortunate find.” He drew out each word.

I shifted in my seat, wondering if he had seen through my lie. I was tempted to change the subject, to venture to safer ground, but his interest had piqued my own. Perhaps he knew something of my father’s pendant. “Why did you call it an amulet?”

“Because it is one. A powerful one, too, of protection.”

My fingers reached up to stroke the jade. Had my father worn this to challenge the sunbirds? Had it protected him from their deadly flame?

Prince Yanxi leaned closer to scrutinize the stone. “Unfortunately, it seems to have been damaged.”

The crack in the rim. “Can it be restored?” I asked, a little too eagerly.

The corners of his mouth dipped. “From its carving, this appears to be a talisman of the dragons. If so, only they can restore it.”

My spirits sank as I released the pendant. The dragons were no longer in the Immortal Realm. Banished, Prince Yanxi had said, echoing the tale I had heard as a child.

“You know a lot about the dragons. In the Celestial Kingdom there is little information on them,” I remarked.

“The Venerable Dragons, as they were called, were born in the Eastern Sea and lived here until their banishment. Though they were never under our rule, our historians, scholars, and scribes gathered all the information they could find on them. Despite their fearsome appearance, the dragons were wise and benevolent, using their might to aid those in need and maintain the peace in our waters. Many revered them—the merfolk, Sea Immortals, even the mortals. Many mourn their loss still. If you are interested to learn more, you are welcome to visit our library.”

“Thank you.” I was grateful for his generous offer. According to Captain Wenzhi, it was not one made lightly. My curiosity was pricked, especially after missing my earlier opportunity and I longed to immerse myself in the library, if only I had the leisure to do so.

“Your Highness, have you heard of the Jade Dragon Bow?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

His body stiffened, almost imperceptibly. “Why do you ask?”

“I heard someone speak of it and I wondered who wielded such a powerful weapon.”

“No one,” he said gravely. “It was lost along with its owner, even before the dragons were banished, and will probably never be found again.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to confide in him that the bow was not lost, that it was in my keeping. But I knew little of the prince and I had promised Captain Wenzhi to not speak of it. Moreover, he seemed to know nothing of its owner’s whereabouts.

The chime of bells drew my attention, with their ringing, silvery tones. Dancers entered, gliding to the center of the hall in a swirl of blue and green silk. A string of golden bells dangled from their waists and their ornate headdresses were studded with precious gems. Each performer carried a polished jade stick to which a wide red ribbon was attached. When the pipa player struck up a new song, a livelier melody with rippling strains, they lifted their sticks and danced. Their graceful bodies twirled and dipped and spun, their ribbons streaming after them as bright as living flames. Sighs of appreciation swelled through the crowd, my own among them.

Two dancers sprang into the air, their ribbons spinning around their bodies in a graceful spiral. When they landed, another leapt up high, arching toward the thrones in a remarkable display of agility. As my eyes followed her, wide with admiration, something bright slid from the base of her stick. The softness of her expression morphed into the ruthlessness of a predator.

My gut clenched with dread. On instinct, I darted for a weapon—finding none, I snatched up a silver plate instead, hurling it at the leaping dancer. It struck her in the temple, knocking her headdress askew. She cried out as she fell to the ground in a tangled heap of silk and ribbon.

Guests shot to their feet, shouting in alarm. A few glared at me as though I had lost my mind, disrupting the performance with my uncivil conduct.

“She has a weapon,” I warned Prince Yanxi.

He sprang up at once, barking orders to the guards to apprehend the dancer.

After a few tense moments, a guard ran toward us. His face was grim as he held out a cluster of sharp needles, glistening with the viscous remnants of a greenish liquid.

“Sea scorpion venom,” Prince Yanxi hissed. “It spreads swiftly, paralyzing the entire body. Too much would be fatal.”

The music had stopped when the dancer fell, leaving the hall in ominous silence. The guests exchanged confused glances, their mutterings no longer outraged, but anxious and urgent. The air shifted, taut with strain. Something thudded against the wall. Metal clashed, a bloodcurdling cry ringing out. Beside me, Prince Yanxi drew his sword. The doors were flung open, a guard standing in the entrance, his blue and silver armor streaked with blood.

“Merfolk! We’re under attack!”

A spear hurtled through his chest with a wet crunch, its tip now drenched with blood. The soldier’s eyes bulged as he lurched forward, before falling to his knees and keeling over.

Guests stumbled to their feet, overturning tables and chairs as they scrambled to the back of the room. Captain Wenzhi leapt down from the dais, his blade already unsheathed. I cursed that my hands were empty, but the prince stripped a bow and quiver from a nearby guard and tossed them to me. Plucking an arrow, I drew it through the string, its red shaft as hard and cool as stone.

“Fire coral. Merfolk are vulnerable to it,” Prince Yanxi said tightly, his knuckles white around the hilt of his sword.