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“Could you try to act demure and gentle?” Wenzhi suggested. “Take smaller steps when you walk. Your gaze should be softer. Lady Anmei is a delicate flower, so could you try not to be—”

“A thorn?” I bit out, my temper frayed thin. For the past hour, he had been lecturing me on the behavior I should emulate. I shot him a deceptively sweet smile. “Perhaps you should dress as Lady Anmei yourself, since you seem so well versed in her mannerisms.”

A choked sound erupted from one of the attendants, which she quickly gulped back.

Wenzhi’s eyes curved with humor, yet he continued as though I had not spoken. “Try to appear a little afraid or nervous. Not everyone can be as sure of themselves as you are.”

I swung around, dislodging an attendant’s attempt to fix a gold flower to my hair. “Since I met you, I’ve been afraid more times than in all my years before. Who wouldn’t be—getting speared by darts, scalded by fire, attacked by monsters?”

“If you were afraid, you kept your wits about you. Most of the time.” He sat down and unrolled a scroll crafted of bamboo strips, each crammed with tiny characters and bound with silk. Soon, he was engrossed in his reading like he had forgotten I was there.

His indifference bothered me, more than it should. I glanced into the mirror, a stranger gazing back at me. The attendants had drawn my brows into delicate arches, brushed my cheeks with rose powder, and colored my lips a light coral. My hair was pulled into smooth coils, adorned with jeweled flowers from which strands of turquoise beads cascaded. The lilac silk of my dress was embroidered with colorful shells and seagrass, a crimson sash tied around my waist. An open coat of azure satin flowed to my feet, encased in slippers of gold brocade.

The attendants flattered me, telling me I looked beautiful, before they left the room.

“Are you ready?” A note of impatience rang in Wenzhi’s voice as he turned to me.

In the sudden quiet, I found myself holding my breath. “You look different,” he said finally. “Though such as you does not need all this . . . gilding.”

“Gilding?” I was torn between laughter and mortification. “Might I remind you this was your idea?”

He shrugged. “A good one, but I did not say I liked it.”

It was no compliment, yet the intensity of his stare sent a tingling rush through me, like a cool breeze gliding over my skin. Before I could reply, he picked up the scroll and resumed his reading. As I rose to find a book of my own, I stumbled, tripping over the hem of my coat.

Wenzhi shot up to catch me, his fingers closing around my arms. Light kindled in his eyes, my heart racing like I had run a long way. But I had learned such feelings were dangerous and the wounds they could inflict more painful than those from a blade.

I pulled away, averting my gaze. His hands dropped to his side, an awkward silence descending over us.

Fortunately, Prince Yanming arrived soon after. At the sight of me, he burst into laughter, dousing my brief pride in my appearance. “You’re wearing Lady Anmei’s clothes!”

“She is Lady Anmei for today,” Wenzhi reminded him sternly. “Remember what your brother told you, Your Highness.”

The mirth vanished from Prince Yanming’s face as he nodded, his body shaking a little. Of course, he was afraid, knowing he and his loved ones were in peril.

Crouching down, I clasped his shoulder. “Don’t worry,” I told him. “It’s a little dangerous, but you’ll be safe. Your brother is waiting in the forest with his guards and we won’t let anything happen to you.”

His teeth gnawed his lip. “What about you? I don’t want anything to happen to you either.”

“Nothing will,” I promised, wiping the sweat from my palm before taking his hand. “I will take care of us.”

An odd look crossed Prince Yanming’s face. “But . . . you’re not a very good fighter. I always beat you and I only just started learning.”

Wenzhi snorted while I glared at him. “Don’t worry,” I told Prince Yanming, his brow still wrinkled in a frown. “I’m better with the bow.”

Together, we walked in silence from the palace to the shore. A large tent had been erected there for our use, far from the shoreline. A visible target for Governor Renyu’s forces, and one which I hoped would prove irresistible. Once we were inside and the flap had been lowered, I set about concealing weapons, bows, and quivers of arrows around the tent.

Afterward, we took a long stroll on the beach, the noon sun beating down upon us. The residents had been escorted to safety, leaving disguised Celestial soldiers in their place—while Prince Yanxi and his army hid in the forest that bordered the beach. I did not let go of Prince Yanming’s hand, as I scanned our surroundings for any sign of danger. Yet there was none, the sea tranquil and clear.

Soon after we returned to the tent, Prince Yanming fell asleep, perhaps exhausted from the strain of the day. I covered him with a blanket, watching his chest rise and fall, the serenity of his face striking me deep. I would keep him safe, I promised silently, no matter what happened today. Looking around for something to distract myself, I found some books and a weiqi board set up in a corner, its black and white stones gleaming invitingly. But I was in no mood for either. Waiting to be attacked shredded my nerves raw, unlike Wenzhi who sat in a chair, reading his scroll with unflappable calm.

An urge gripped me to disrupt his concentration. “When did you come to the Celestial Kingdom?” I asked.

“A while ago.”

Undeterred by his curt response, I pressed on. “Which of the Four Seas are you from?”

He raised his head then, fixing me with a pointed stare. “Why the sudden interest?”