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Assailants swarmed into the hall. Their armor was woven from small scales that gleamed like mother-of-pearl. They raced toward us, turquoise pupils bright, their braided hair flying behind them. Their fair skin was coated with an iridescent sheen as though I were looking at them through a pane of colored glass. My skin crawled at the sight of their curved swords, coated with the same venom as on the needles. Those cut by their blades froze where they stood, their limbs jerking unsteadily, their eyes wide with horror.

As Prince Yanxi rushed into the fray, a merman lunged at him. At once I released an arrow, striking the attacker in the shoulder. He fell to the floor, clutching the shaft embedded in his flesh. I hardened myself to the sight, to his gasps. Remorse, I could ill afford, as I shot arrow after arrow at the invaders—though I aimed for their limbs when I could. Captain Wenzhi would have rebuked me had he realized this. To him, an enemy was an enemy, and to show mercy in a battle was to leave your back unguarded. Yet I could not help wondering why the merfolk had risen against the Sea Immortals. I was learning that kings were not always as just as in the stories, and the mercy of gods was sometimes flawed.

Blood splattered the floor, and my palms were slick with sweat. My arrows plunged forth in a relentless stream, the agonized cries of those struck beating at my conscience. I forced my attention back to the weapons the merfolk bore, the harm they had inflicted. But for as many who fell beneath our arrows and blades, more poured through the doors. Our own forces dwindled as we formed a protective ring around the royal family and guests.

The merfolk’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as they closed in on us. They had the advantage; we were outnumbered. They raised their hands, the smell of brine thick in the air as torrents of water gushed into the hall. Captain Wenzhi flung his power out, shards of ice plunging toward the merfolk. Several fell, yet the water swirled higher, drenching our shoes and robes, swelling until a towering wave loomed above. King Yanzheng’s energy rippled from him, dispersing the wave—though others surged in its place. More and more, springing up around us until we were hemmed in by quivering walls of water, on the cusp of breaking and washing us away. A soft cry from behind pierced me, that of a child, muffling his fear. Was he Prince Yanming?

Grasping my energy, I summoned a wind that hurtled into the hall, arching over us like a translucent dome—glistening ice streaking across it as Wenzhi threw his energy alongside mine. Just in time as the waves fell, crashing across our barrier. I staggered beneath the crushing weight, my limbs aching as I fought back my exhaustion. Just when I thought I would collapse, Prince Yanxi’s power surged forth, sweeping the water up and hurling it over the merfolk.

Footsteps thudded, from a distance. I stiffened, bracing for a fresh onslaught as I raised my bow, my sore hands already drawing an arrow at the ready. More soldiers streamed into the hall, this time clad in the blue and silver armor of the Eastern Sea. I sagged with relief, lowering my weapon. The merfolk charged at the soldiers, fighting valiantly, but were soon overwhelmed.

The captured leader was dragged forward. Blood trickled from a wide gash across his cheek as his pupils glowed with blue flame.

“Assassins masquerading as dancers with poisoned needles to kill our king. What other despicable tactics has Governor Renyu stooped to?” Prince Yanxi asked scathingly.

“All tactics are honorable when dealing with a dragon-killer,” the merman spat.

“What do you mean? Explain yourself!” King Yanzheng demanded, his voice thick with outrage.

Such hatred emanated from the merman’s gaze. “Governor Renyu told us how you were jealous of the dragons’ power and resented their refusal to bow to your rule. You conspired with the Celestial Emperor to imprison and slay them!”

Prince Yanxi shuddered as though repulsed. “A vicious pack of lies! We revered the dragons. We honor them still. We never sought to rule them, it sufficed that they graced us with their presence.” His tone hardened. “To accuse my father of this is obscene and unworthy of your intelligence.”

The merman snarled, “You lie as well as your father.”

Prince Yanxi lunged at him, but Captain Wenzhi grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

“Beyond your governor’s claims, what proof do you have that the dragons were murdered?” Captain Wenzhi wanted to know.

Confusion flashed across the merman’s face, though he remained obstinately silent.

King Yanzheng spoke calmly. “Your governor has shown you no proof because none exists. His claims are meritless, his accusations false. Nothing more than empty words to stir you to do his bidding.”

The merman bared his teeth. “Governor Renyu swears he will avenge the death of the dragons. Once the unworthy king is deposed, he will restore the merfolk to our glory, he will—” He shut his mouth, turning away. Was he afraid to let something slip, or had an enchantment prevented him from doing so?

Captain Wenzhi did not seem to notice as he laughed, a mirthless sound. “Does the governor intend to take the crown after murdering your rightful ruler? How noble of him, to ascend the throne in the name of seeking retribution for the dragons.”

The merman shook his head vehemently. “No, Governor Renyu is honorable! He only wishes to—” Again, his words cut off.

King Yanzheng sighed. “I wished we could have done more to aid the dragons. We pleaded with the Celestial Emperor to rescind their punishment, to release them, but he refused. They had indeed challenged his authority and our hands were tied. The dragons would not have wanted us to go to war with the Celestial Kingdom. They valued peace above all.”

“Dragons have not been seen for centuries!” the merman cried.

“That does not mean they’re dead,” Prince Yanxi countered. “We would sense it if such light faded from our world.”

As the merman sneered, I bit my lip, staring at him. Something felt wrong. His eyes blazed with conviction and he spoke with passion, yet why did he stake his life and honor on hollow claims alone?

Captain Wenzhi’s voice broke through the silence, soft and low. “What was your purpose today? To kill the king and heir? Yet the Eastern Sea’s allies would never accept Governor Renyu as king. What was the governor’s plan?”

The merman raised his chin in defiance. “Do your worst. I will tell you nothing.”

“Oh, you will,” Captain Wenzhi said, each word ringed with steel. “I have found there are ways to extract even the most precious secrets. Not just fire and ice, but those from the mortal world. Limbs severed, skin flayed. Flesh boiled in oil.”

A chill sank through me, though I kept my face still.

The merman flinched as Captain Wenzhi leaned toward him. “If you will not speak, one of your friends might be persuaded to. If not, your people will suffer the wrath of the Celestial Kingdom. They will be banished from the Eastern Sea, exiled to the Golden Desert. Left to wander and wither beneath the heat of the sun, for eternity upon the parched sands.”

Prince Yanxi inhaled sharply as his father turned pale. To a Sea Immortal, such a fate must be worse than death. They had maintained their composure through the grim talk of torture, yet I did not think they possessed the stomach for this harsh a punishment. But what mattered was what the merman believed. I had heard Captain Wenzhi was skilled at extracting answers from stubborn prisoners without resorting to physical cruelties. The rumors had not been exaggerated. Already the merman showed signs of caving, his breathing quickening, his eyes darting around yet always returning to the captain.