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A deep scent infiltrated my senses, opulent and sweet like a gilded forest. Sandalwood, my mind whispered, roused from the fog that enveloped it. My eyes flicked open. Sitting up, I pressed my fingers to my throbbing head—the ache worsening as I stared at the room with its mahogany furniture, green marble floor, and gold silk hangings. Tendrils of fragrant smoke coiled from a three-legged incense burner. Something cold seared my hands and when I glanced down, I recoiled. Dark metal bracelets encircled my wrists, crafted from the same material used to bind Liwei in the Eternal Spring Forest. I tried to slide them off, but they stuck fast, endless circles of immutable metal with neither clasp nor hinge. I grasped at my energy, yet it evaded my hold—just as when my powers were untrained. Just as in Shadow Peak.

Fear clouded me as I stumbled to the doors, tugging at them. Locked. I sank onto a barrel-shaped stool, anger kindling in the pit of my stomach. Was I a prisoner? Was my magic bound? Where was Liwei? Wenzhi? And what of the pearls? My hands shook as I untied my pouch, shaking its contents onto the table. My jade flute rolled out, along with Prince Yanming’s paper dragon. I dashed to the bed and threw the covers aside, peering beneath furniture, flinging open chests and drawers. But there was no sign of the pearls or my bow.

I recalled the glacial hue of Wenzhi’s pupils, the whisper in the wind before I lost consciousness. Was he possessed by some malevolent spirit? Impersonated by one? Was he in danger, too? My chest tightened, even as a revolting suspicion crept up the fringes of my mind.

The doors slid open. My head jerked up. A young girl entered, carrying a tray. Taken aback by my grim expression, she hesitated before bowing hastily. “My lady, you’re awake. I’ll . . . I’ll inform His Highness at once.”

She dropped the tray onto the table and hurried away, shutting the doors behind her.

“Wait!” I ran to the doors and yanked at them to no avail, shouting after her, “What is this place? Who is ‘His Highness’?”

There was no reply, just her footsteps fading to silence.

I sat upon the stool again, restraining the urge to pound the table in frustration. For want of anything to do, I lifted the lid off the porcelain bowl, staring with disinterest at the clear broth drizzled with golden sesame oil. Its warm, savory aroma wafted into my nostrils, but I pushed the bowl aside.

A breeze slipped into the room, cutting through the cloying incense. I ran to the window, inhaling great gulps of fresh air. The sun shone brightly, though the ground below was obscured by violet clouds. Iridescent tiles shimmered from the roof with a rainbow-like sheen. I peered closer at the obsidian walls, noticing ridges in them deep enough to grip onto. Hiking up my skirt, I swung a foot through the window—only to slam against an invisible barrier as hard as rock.

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed at my energy with more force than before. But the flecks of light darted away as though scattered by the wind. I searched the room again, emptying out the contents of the drawers and cupboards, leaving silk and brocade strewn in my wake, books piled upon the floor. If I had to fight my way out of here, I needed to arm myself—with the leg wrenched from the table if need be. Rifling through a box filled with jewelry, I dug out all the hairpins, placing two in my hair and sliding the rest into the sash around my waist.

The doors creaked behind me. I steeled myself as I whirled around, a gold pin tucked in my palm. Wenzhi stepped into the room, dressed in a green brocade robe embroidered with autumn leaves, their hue shifting from crimson to gold. His dark hair was pulled through a jade ring, falling over his shoulder. Heat fired in my veins at the sight of his eyes, no longer black but that strange silvery hue. An imposter! I hurled the hairpin at his face and raced toward the entrance. He spun to the side, catching me around my waist as I struggled and kicked at him. My foot landed hard against his thigh, his body tensing, even as his arm tightened around me. As I bent my knee to drive it into his stomach, he struck it down deftly. Frantic now, I shoved the flat of my palms against his chest, rearing away from him—as the back of my head slammed against the wall. Stupid, my mind hissed through the pain, sparks flashing across my eyes.

I blinked in a dazed manner, then let my body go limp like I had fainted. One of his arms slid around my shoulders, the other below my knees as he swung me up, holding me tight. He carried me a short way, before laying me down on the bed. My eyes shut, I sensed with startling clarity his callused fingertips brushing my skin, smoothing the hair from my face with unexpected tenderness. Recoiling inwardly, I kept my expression slack, even as I groped for a hairpin from my sash. As a shadow fell over me, I tensed in alarm—my eyes flying open as I yanked the pin free, stabbing at him. His fingers locked around my wrist, trapping the sharp point a hair’s breadth from his neck.

His lips curved up. “Xingyin, how bloodthirsty you are this morning.”

Something cold slithered down my spine. His deep voice curled into my ear with aching familiarity, yet he was a stranger to me now. As he pried the carved silver pin from my grasp with his other hand, I thrashed against his grip with renewed force.

His hands fell away, his smile vanishing. “Don’t be afraid.”

“Your eyes . . .” I choked out, scrambling upright, my knees pressed to my chest. How brilliantly they glittered, just as those of Lady Hualing’s. A shiver rippled through me. Until I knew what he was capable of, I would have to tread cautiously.

He shrugged as though it were of no matter. “A disguise. To avoid unnecessary questions.”

“Who are you?” I demanded.

“The same person you’ve known all this time. The same person I’ve always been around you.”

My voice hardened. “No word games. Tell me who you are.”

He studied me intently. “Did I not accept you, when you revealed yourself as the daughter of the Moon Goddess? Xingyin, you and I know everything that matters about each other.”

There was a twisting sensation in my gut of a pawn who had been played. Everything he said was a defense or delay, calculated to temper my anger and prick my conscience. To link us together, to make us seem one and the same. Whatever he had done must be terrible indeed.

“Don’t even compare us,” I seethed. “My deceit did not touch you, while you . . . you have locked me up and stolen my possessions.”

His jaw clenched as he turned away, striding toward the window.

“What is this place?” I asked, hating the quiver in my voice. This new uncertainty I felt around him, this fear.

“My home. The Cloud Wall.” A warmth glided into his tone, a moment before it turned cool once more. “Although others prefer to call it the Demon Realm. A clever ploy by the Celestials to brand us as the enemy, to be reviled and feared even by those we’ve never encountered.”

Impossible. This could not be the Demon Realm. And he was no Demon—they were forbidden from the Celestial Kingdom. Surely someone would have sensed him during those years he served with the army.

“Is this a joke?” I leapt up from the bed, my elbow knocking over an enameled vase. It struck the floor hard, the clang reverberating in the room.

The doors flew open, two soldiers raced into the room, clad in black armor edged with bronze. One, with a thin nose and the pointed chin of a ferret, his taller companion with pale skin and round eyes. Inky tassels fringed the gleaming spears they clutched. At the sight of Wenzhi, they bowed, the ends of their spears thumping the floor.

“Your Highness, we heard a crash,” the fair one said.