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“Your Celestial Majesty, may I offer my opinion?”

Those silken tones, the back of his profile, jostled my memory then. Where had I met this immortal before?

The emperor leaned back against his throne. “Rise, Minister Wu, and speak your mind. Your counsel is valued.”

My heart plunged. Minister Wu? I should not have been surprised; he seemed ever entwined with my most challenging times here. This close, his aura pulsed around me, as dense and opaque as a bottomless lake.

The minister bowed again, before rising to his feet. When he swung around, I flinched from the hostility in his expression. “Your Celestial Majesty, neither Chang’e nor her daughter deserves your mercy. One stole your gift, the other deceived you in this contemptible manner. How brazenly the Moon Goddess lied to Her Celestial Majesty when we visited her before! Upon your command, I will return there and apprehend her, to be tried with her daughter for their offenses. If you allow them to go unpunished, this will set a dangerous precedent to others who will seek to take advantage of your kindness.”

His malice stunned me. In my brief encounter with the minister before, he had only regarded me with bored disinterest. He had not known who I was then, but why should it matter? Did he despise my mortal heritage? Did he think me unworthy to be here? Why would he utter such vicious words, carefully crafted to inflame the emperor’s suspicions and rage? Kindness? Mercy? I seethed. When my mother had been imprisoned all these years just for drinking the elixir?

“My mother is no threat to the Celestial Kingdom,” I cried out, undoing all the good from my composed plea before. “She has harmed no one, she was only trying to protect me. She does not deserve such—”

“Enough.” The emperor spoke evenly, yet the menace which sprang from that single word was worse than any roar.

I cursed myself for my rash outburst. If he struck me down now, none would fault him for it.

In the sudden quiet, Liwei stepped down from the dais, sweeping his robe aside as he dropped to his knees beside me. He threw me a warning glare before speaking, his voice exuding a steady calm. “Honorable Father, Mother. I owe First Archer Xingyin my life. She risked herself to come to my aid, far beyond duty and honor. If not for her, I would be dead. Princess Fengmei, a hostage still. Our kingdom would be thrown into disarray. As your dutiful son, I must remind you that because of her valiant deeds, the First Archer was granted the Crimson Lion Talisman today. A royal favor, not a sentencing.”

A warmth sparked inside me. To know, that here—surrounded by hostility and condemnation—I had a friend in him still. More than the fact I could never have spoken so eloquently, Liwei had risked his parents’ wrath by reminding them of their promise, something no one else would have dared to do. It might not suffice to sway my fate, but to know he had done this—despite his discomfiture at my revelation—moved me deeply.

The empress glared at him so fearsomely, a less courageous man would have slunk away. As for the expression in his father’s face—I shivered, looking away. Yet Liwei held his ground, remaining on his knees before them as humbly as any petitioner.

“This is no common favor she asks. Eternal imprisonment cannot be withdrawn on a whim.” A cunning note slipped into the empress’s voice as she added, “Moreover, the First Archer’s request is on behalf of her mother. Not herself, which is what is due to the talisman bearer. She is more than fortunate if we don’t punish her for this deceit, pretending to be someone she is not.”

How could she haggle over my mother’s life like it was some trinket in the market? How dare she steal my victory—so hard-won—and twist it into this hollow triumph? The blood I had shed, the agony I had suffered . . . I squeezed my eyes shut, stifling the urge to lash out again, to hurl my contempt and rage into their arrogant and uncaring faces.

“Her Celestial Majesty is wise,” Minister Wu agreed smoothly. “If the First Archer’s intentions were honorable, why did she hide her identity? Who knows what trickery she was taught by her devious mother, what plots lurk in her heart?”

Anger roiled in my veins. Insults to myself I could endure better than those aimed at my mother. I swung to the minister, my mouth opening to berate him—ill-advised, to be sure—when footsteps clicked against the stone tiles.

It was Wenzhi, sinking down beside me. “Your Celestial Majesty, please consider the First Archer’s valuable service. She has served loyally and bravely, helping us win victories which have strengthened the Celestial Kingdom. Moreover, First Archer Xingyin never outrightly deceived anyone. No one ever questioned whether she was the daughter of the goddess Chang’e and the mortal Houyi.”

A few heads nodded. It was a shrewd argument, one I wished I had thought of myself.

The Celestial Emperor’s robes rustled as he shifted on his throne. “General Jianyun, what is your opinion?”

I held my breath as the general made his way forward. From where I knelt, I could not see his face. As the emperor’s most senior commander, the general might tilt the scales in my favor—if he chose to do so. If he was not incensed by my admission.

“Your Celestial Majesty, First Archer Xingyin’s parentage is . . . unfortunate. However, she has been a valiant and exceptional recruit. More importantly, she has saved the lives of His Highness and his betrothed, preserving our alliance with the Phoenix Kingdom. Such bravery should not go unrewarded, as you have graciously determined before.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in. “We should appreciate the flower, regardless of its roots.”

The murmurs around the hall grew louder. I strained my ears to listen. Was it possible some were expressing surprise at my treatment? A whisper of cautious disapproval, even?

The emperor did not speak. My pulse raced as I sensed his gaze upon me, though I dared not move as my breath misted the tiles. Would General Jianyun’s words outweigh Minister Wu’s accusations? He had spoken well, offering Their Celestial Majesties a path to pardon me in the name of magnanimity and grace. But my insides clenched at the recollection of the emperor’s mercy—which he had so callously dispensed to my mother, Lady Hualing, and the dragons.

“First Archer Xingyin,” the emperor said finally.

I folded my body over once more, bracing myself for what would come. Trying not to think of the tortures and horrors which awaited those who had offended him.

“You are not to be blamed for the mistakes of your parents. Your merits should stand on their own. You are bequeathed the Crimson Lion Talisman for your service.”

My head sprang up, hope thrumming through me, barely held in check as I eagerly awaited the emperor’s next words.

“However, the favor you ask for—to free Chang’e, the Moon Goddess—will not be granted.”

My fingers clenched around the jade, crumpling its tassel. What use was this now? There was nothing else I wanted from the Celestial Emperor. Though I was relieved not to be punished, there was neither respect nor gratitude in my heart. Not for this trick played upon me; my service won with false coin.

“Grant me this then, Your Celestial Majesty,” I said, emboldened by resentment. “A favor for me alone. The right to earn my mother’s freedom through a task of your choosing.” A reckless offer, yet what did I have to lose? I would spell the terms out so clearly this time, none would doubt it again.