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My behavior bordered on the insolent. Who was I to make demands of the Celestial Emperor? But instead of wrath, a cunning light gleamed in those fathomless orbs, a finger lifted to stroke his chin. “Very well, First Archer. We command that you perform one more task on your mother’s behalf, to rebalance her offenses against us.”

“What is the task, Your Celestial Majesty?” My words fell out in my haste. I would journey to the ends of the earth, to the Demon Realm itself to free my mother.

The emperor did not speak, holding out something to me—a dark gray lump in his palm. I leaned closer, craning my neck. It was a seal, crafted from dull metal, with an intricately carved dragon on the top.

Wenzhi inhaled softly, a breath of wonder. I glanced at him in surprise.

“The Divine Iron Seal will release the four dragons, imprisoned in the mortal world for their grave crimes. Each possesses a pearl that is unique to them. I command you to retrieve the pearls from the dragons and bring them to me.” The emperor’s tone sharpened. “If they do not obey my command, use whatever means necessary. Once the four pearls are in my possession, I will pardon your mother and you will be free to return to her.”

I recoiled, involuntarily. The Venerable Dragons! After learning of them in the Eastern Sea, I had no desire to challenge such great and noble creatures. Would the dragons surrender their pearls freely? If they did not, could I harden myself to do what I needed to? What the emperor expected of me?

“Are we in agreement?” His voice was edged with impatience.

I swallowed my unease, letting it settle in my stomach like congealed grease. I had asked this of the emperor, sought this chance. How could I hesitate now? Cupping my hands before me, I bowed in acceptance of his terms. The bargain was struck, as commonplace as those in the market, yet the stakes here were higher by far.

An attendant came forward, placing the seal into my outstretched palm. The metal was cool against my skin and when I dropped it into my pouch, the silk sagged from its weight.

The emperor nodded to me. A curt dismissal which I accepted gladly. Rising to my feet, I turned from the thrones and pushed my legs forward, each step heavier than the last. Staring straight ahead, I might have appeared indifferent to the rest of the court. Yet inside, I was a mess of writhing emotions which threatened to tear me apart. Of relief, that the truth was finally in the open, yet fury at having my hard-fought reward snatched away. Hope soared in me to be granted this second opportunity, even as it was tempered by a sinking dread . . . that the price for my mother’s freedom might be one I could not pay.

28

In a daze, I stepped out of the Hall of Eastern Light. Several of the palace servants stared at me curiously as they polished the stone balustrades and swept the immaculate grounds. Shuxiao strode toward me as though she had been waiting for me all this time. I had told her of my summons, never imagining today’s events to unfold the way they had.

“Is it true?” she asked. “About your mother?”

I blinked at her, surprised. I had not taken more than five paces from the hall. “How did you know?”

“Ah. Most royal audiences are terribly dull. When it was reported that raised voices were heard—” She grinned as she looked around. “You’d be surprised at how many found something that required urgent attention here.”

Her smile faded as she pulled me aside, away from keen ears. “Is your mother really Chang’e, the Moon Goddess?”

Was there anger in her voice? Resentment? All those times she had spoken of her own family, I had not said a word, letting her believe mine were deceased. I could not blame her if she never wanted to speak to me again. It might be better for her if she did not. Coupled with the disfavor of Their Celestial Majesties, I was both an unworthy and dangerous friend to have.

“Yes,” I said, bracing myself for harsh words.

Instead, she reached out and hugged me. “I’m sorry about your mother,” she said, releasing me. “But I’m mad at you, too. I would never have told anyone.”

There were other things I had told her in confidence, things she guessed that she kept to herself. “I couldn’t say anything, not until I knew it would be safe.”

She nodded, slowly. “I understand. Though I doubt your news was pleasing to Their Celestial Majesties.”

“As pleasing as a zither with a snapped string.” I frowned, recalling the empress’s hissing rage, the emperor’s . . . he had been angry at first, to be sure. Yet he had seemed oddly satisfied when I left. He should be, I told myself, getting twice the labor for a single wage.

“And now, I must somehow persuade four dragons to surrender their pearls to the emperor, if I want a hope of seeing my mother again.” I could not help wondering then—if I failed, if I proved myself of no further use to the Celestial Kingdom, would the emperor’s promise to me still hold? Would my mother be safe from the empress’s malice? Would I, even as far away as I would be in Wenzhi’s homeland?

“Why the pearls?” I asked aloud. “Isn’t the Imperial Treasury overflowing with jewels?”

“All I’ve heard is the dragons guard their pearls well, that they’re precious to them though the stories don’t say why.” Shuxiao gestured at the golden dragons which gleamed from the jade roof, a luminous orb resting securely within each jaw.

I blanched at the thought of those curved fangs sinking into my flesh. Was this a cunning plot to get me devoured, Crimson Lion Talisman and all? Would that not solve the emperor’s dilemma, in one stroke ridding himself of my troublesome presence and, yet, honoring his word? My gut twisted at the thought.

Shuxiao tapped my arm. “Are you all right?”

“I’m not sure.” I was numb inside. In the span of a morning my heart had soared with hope, been sunken by fear, and now rocked in a sea of turmoil.

“Well, don’t get yourself killed yet. I’ve always wanted to visit the moon,” she told me with a laugh.

“I’m not planning to, although the dragons might decide otherwise,” I said darkly.