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A slow smile spread across her lips. “Oh, this is more than just loyalty and duty, isn’t it?” she breathed in seeming delight. “A soldier in love with a royal? What could you possibly offer the Celestial Crown Prince, except your life in his service?”

“You know nothing,” Liwei bit out. “Xingyin, you must leave. Now.” He spoke the last words as a plea, urgency throbbing in his voice.

But if I left, he would die. Alone.

“Ah, Your Highness. It appears your reputation is not quite as honorable as we believed,” Lady Hualing sneered. “Dallying with a commoner whom you could never hope to marry. You are your father’s son indeed, plucking flowers for your own pleasure and discarding them once they wilt.”

She swung to me, her gaze intent and searching. “Do you know he is betrothed? To one of royal blood, with beauty, power, and charm. A prize he would risk his life to rescue—just as you are sacrificing yourself to save him.”

Each word about Princess Fengmei stabbed me, just as on the night of their betrothal. I had believed myself above such feelings, yet if they could be resurrected so easily . . . would I ever be free? A terrible thought slid into me, that there was some truth to her vicious words. That I had come here to save Liwei, but would accomplish nothing except my death. And if I died, what would happen to my mother? She would never learn of my miserable fate, whiling eternity away in her futile wait—first for my father, and then for me. Why did I sacrifice everything for the one who had broken with me, who perhaps never really loved me?

It was the gleam in her eyes that gave me pause. She had goaded me well, giving voice to my cruelest thoughts—those which taunted me in the deep of night. She wanted to make me jealous, to make me doubt my own worth. To allow hatred to slither in and sink its claws into my heart. I inhaled a deep breath, trying to gather myself. I needed to hold her interest, to gain time to strike or provoke her into rashness. I dared not have her attention return to Liwei again, and the vile things she had planned for him.

“Yes, we were together once,” I admitted haltingly. “Now His Highness and I have gone our separate ways.”

“Was it your choice, or his?” Her lips curved like she already knew the answer.

I looked away, her question cutting deeper than I expected.

“Life would be preferable without love,” Lady Hualing said with feeling, as though I were her trusted friend. As though we were of the same mind.

Her words resonated through me. Was closing one’s heart to love—all love—the only way to contentment? Had I not imagined so myself, during those long months of misery? Indeed, my darkest moments were when I had left my loved ones. And yet . . . the happiest times of my life had been with them, too. But I would not disagree with her. She seemed to believe there was a connection between us. Did she see a part of herself in me? I shuddered at the idea, although now I would tread cautiously, to cultivate this illusion to better catch her unaware.

“Perhaps you are right.” I said, letting a hardness edge my voice. “Love has not served me well.”

“Nor I.” Lady Hualing’s chest heaved. “I did not ask for the emperor’s love, but he beguiled me with false promises until I returned his affection. When I was hurt and frightened, I yearned for his comfort. He never came back. Because of him, I lost everything, even the happiness I had before. I would rather he had died than hurt me so. All I want now is to repay those who brought me low.”

I recoiled inwardly from the vehemence in her words. She had not uttered her curse in the heat of anger, but as a fervent wish wrung from the depths of her heart.

“They will never change their minds,” Lady Hualing continued, her tone low and intimate. “The Celestial royals are proud, cold and unyielding. Their love, once lost, can never be regained. Ask yourself, why do you do this? Just so he can cherish your memory after he marries his princess? Weep a tear over your grave? Such paltry thanks for so great a sacrifice. Don’t throw your life away.”

It hit me then, she believed our situations similar. That I, too, had been snared by a hopeless love; that I, too, had been cast aside—by the son of her cruel lover, no less. And that my actions were a desperate bid to regain what I had lost.

My teeth sank into my lip, biting down harder until a warmth of salt and iron gushed into my mouth. Like her, I had not sought love. My life had been full without it. Yet it had crept up on me, infiltrating my senses like a subtle scent—until I found beauty in a fallen blossom and delight in a thunderstorm. However, the joy it gave me, I repaid tenfold through my sorrow. Even when I believed my heart healed, the scars remained, reopening with no more than a touch from his hand.

Why did I do this? Her question echoed through me again. I had known the dangers when I followed Liwei’s trail here, but not once did I hesitate. My only thought had been to come to his aid. My only fear had been for his safety. But she was wrong; I was not trying to win him back. Was it for friendship, as I had told myself? Or out of honor, to repay the debt of his kindness? The answer eluded me as it lurked on the fringes of my mind.

I looked up, my eyes colliding into Liwei’s—and it struck me then with the force of a thunderbolt. What I had been struggling to understand. What I had fought so hard against before. What I had been afraid of knowing because its revelation might be my undoing. Such proud words I had spoken to him before, of honor and duty. Lies, all lies.

I was still in love with Liwei.

All this time I kept telling myself that my feelings for him were a remnant of the past, a lingering attraction. My pride did not let me cling to him, yet I did not want to let him go. I had told him to forget us, when I could do no such thing myself. Each time he came, a secret part of me rejoiced in knowing he still cared. My coldness to him was but a mask to hide my feelings, even from myself—that I loved him still and that I had never stopped.

I stepped closer to Liwei, almost trembling now. The faces of the soldiers blurred into the background; all I saw was him. With a wrench, I unearthed the secrets buried deep in my heart. If I did not tell him now, I might never have the chance again.

“I love you.” Tears sprang into my eyes. These I would not conceal or blink away. “I loved you then. I love you still. I tried to forget you, to destroy my feelings. But I failed.”

Something heavy loosened in my chest and fell away, a burden I had not realized I bore till now. Gazing at him, I was lost for a moment in our past. Through the stagnant air of this putrid cavern, I could almost smell the sweet scent of peach blossoms.

I yanked myself back to the present, to the danger. Liwei’s eyes were fixed on mine, his lips parted to speak—but I shook my head in warning. Lady Hualing appeared transfixed, her face alight with anticipation. Was this not what she had accused me of? Did she hope Liwei might reject me? That I would join her, bitter and distraught? It would satisfy her craving for revenge to have me turn on Liwei—validating all she had done, all she had become, because of her own tainted love.

I would give her no satisfaction today. I did not want to end up like her, engulfed in spite and hungering for something I could not have . . . until it destroyed me. Those nights when my pain was at its sharpest, it would have been so easy to slide into resentment and hatred. Yet as much as I loved him, I loved myself more. And as I was discovering, there was no end to love—it was something which grew and renewed endlessly, expanding to encompass each new horizon. Family. Friends. And other lovers, too—none of them the same—yet each precious in their own way.

I spoke to Liwei, raising my voice to be heard. “I have no regrets. I will always cherish what we had together. I do not resent your happiness with another, and I could never wish for your death.” This was the moment, there might not be another. My insides writhed as I met Lady Hualing’s furious stare. “I am not like you.”

“You stupid, sentimental fool.” Bright red spots blazed from Lady Hualing’s cheeks as her eyes squeezed into slits. She was shaking now, was it with disappointment or rage?

Quick as a flash, I drew my bow, flame streaking through my fingers. It struck her chest with blinding light as she staggered back—the acrid smell of burnt silk and flesh throttling the air. But then her magic surged out in a glittering stream, extinguishing the fire with a hiss. The soldiers lunged at me, their weapons gleaming in the torchlight. I ducked, whirling aside, another arrow springing from my fingers—only to strike the shield that sprang up around Lady Hualing now. As she flicked her fingers, an earthy smell wafted forth like rotting leaves in a forest. Thick vines shot out, coiling tight around my waist and slamming me against the ground. Blood gushed from my temple as my bow was snatched from me. Sprawled on the ground, I tried to catch my breath as the beaded tip of a brocade slipper prodded my face up. Lady Hualing peered down at me, her lips curled in a smirk, a charred rip in her robe where my arrow had struck—though the skin beneath was smooth, already healed over.