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I bit the inside of my cheek at the reminder that he had indeed been the most renowned warrior of the Celestial Army. “But it was you who weakened the wards, instigated the unrest in the Eastern Sea, plotted Princess Fengmei’s abduction—”

“Xingyin, only you know that,” he interjected with infuriating calm. “The Celestials don’t know who I am here, at least not yet. They believe I’m just a spy, like those they’ve sent to infiltrate our court to no avail. Moreover, the emperor will be reluctant to admit to being deceived all these years; his pride is too great. For now, he will seek a way to salvage his dignity, rather than mustering his allies for a war he does not want. At least, not while the balance of power is uncertain.” A smile played on his lips. “Though it is certainly weighted in our favor now.”

The pearls, I seethed silently.

Seemingly oblivious to my simmering rage, he plucked a mandarin from the bowl, stripping away its peel. He offered the fruit to me, but I did not deign to respond.

“What about me?” I demanded. “Surely it would violate your precious truce to kidnap a Celestial soldier, stealing the pearls the emperor wanted for himself?” My voice rang with triumph; I was sure I had struck true this time. “Release me, return my possessions, and I won’t tell them what you did.” It injured my pride to bargain with him, but I was in no position to be particular.

He popped the fruit into his mouth, one wedge at a time, chewing with great concentration. Was he trying to avoid answering me? Had he not realized this before? Unlikely, given his cunning.

At last, he rested his elbows on the table, weaving his fingers together. “I would have preferred that you not know this.”

“What do you mean?” A chill slid over my skin. I did not think I would like what he had to say next.

“The Celestial Court believes you are my honored guest, my future bride. The conniving trickster who persuaded the emperor to give you the seal, then took the dragons’ pearls and fled here of your own will. They cannot fault me for harboring you; it does not go against the truce if I was ignorant of your crimes.”

“You monster.” I swore under my breath. “This was all your doing. No one would believe I would . . . that we . . .” My insides twisted at the recollection of the gossip which had surrounded us. Which I had disdained, thinking wagging tongues did not matter. I was wrong, so wrong. Words held power; they whispered falsehoods into reality, built reputations up or tore them down. It was why I had trusted Wenzhi so readily, before. It was why so many would believe this of me now—a known liar who had concealed her identity from all who knew her. Who would trust me with my honor in tatters?

“Liwei,” I said. “He would believe me. He was there—” My frail hope crumbled as something jolted my memory. Those shouts I had heard as Wenzhi carried me away, the clang of metal . . . had Liwei been attacked? Was he hurt? He would have tried to help me. He would have tried to come after me. Unless he had been prevented from doing so.

“What did you do to him?” I demanded.

As an irate expression flashed across Wenzhi’s face, relief flooded me. “He escaped,” I said with certainty.

“Even if he spoke for you, few would believe him. The evidence against you is irrefutable and it’s well known that he has a soft spot for his former companion.” He paused, as though weighing his next words. “Xingyin, I’m sorry if this distresses you, but it’s for the best. A clean break. Forget the Celestial Kingdom. There is nothing left for you there.”

He spoke gently, and in that moment . . . I hated him. The enormity of what he had done crashed over me, my body clenching in terror. If the emperor believed I had betrayed him, what would he do to my mother? Would he still honor his promise to not harm her? I had to go back to set this right.

His mouth opened to speak again, but then a soldier rushed in. He bowed low as he said urgently, “Your Highness, the Celestial Army—”

“Not now,” Wenzhi bit out.

The soldier stiffened, before turning on his heel and hurrying away, closing the doors after him.

“Celestial Army?” My tone lifted with mild interest, though I burned to know.

A heartbeat of hesitation was the only sign of his unease. “Just the usual trouble at our borders.”

I feigned indifference, even as my mind spun, trying to make sense of what I had heard. That soldier had hurried to relay urgent news about the Celestial Army. And Wenzhi’s sharp response was most unlike his usual self. This was no simple matter of unruly troops at the border. Something more serious was afoot, something he wanted to hide from me.

How smoothly he lied, I realized with a twinge in my chest. But I was no longer so easily deceived.

The moment he left, I rushed to the doors. They were crafted from ebony with a solid panel of wood at the bottom, the top half latticed in a pattern of interlocking circles, lined with white silk. I crouched low to hide my silhouette from the other side.

Wenzhi’s voice reached my ears, low and muffled. “Double the guard. Should anything unexpected happen or if she tries to escape again, inform me at once.”

Armor clinked, perhaps the soldiers bowing. The thought of having my guard doubled infuriated me. How would I ever escape now? Bunching up my long skirt, I sank onto the floor. The marble was hard and cold, but perhaps I might hear something of import.

I must have sat there for hours, with my back pressed against the doors—until my neck ached and my legs were cramped. Twice I leapt to my feet and rushed away at the creak of wood. The sun sank lower, my room falling deeper into shadow. Yet I had learned nothing beyond the favorite meals of my guards, their family histories, the immortals they fancied. With a sigh, I rose to pace the floor, trying to settle the ceaseless churning in my gut.

By the window, I paused. Over a thousand soldiers had gathered below, their black armor gleaming like an ocean of night. Wenzhi stood upon a dais in front of them, addressing the troops as he usually did before an impending confrontation—though it sickened me to think he was now plotting against those he had fought alongside before. I strained to listen, but nothing slipped through the barrier, not even the sigh of the breeze which glided through it. I pounded the shield until my fists were sore. If only I could hear what he was saying, it would answer the questions searing my mind.

Below, a group of soldiers stepped forward. When Wenzhi nodded, they raised their hands. The air glittered with magic as a stretch of violet cloud morphed to golden sand.

Why? I pressed closer against the barrier, but the soldiers dispersed soon after. An uneasiness settled over me like I was standing on a rickety bridge that might give way any moment, dropping me into the gorge. Night had fallen, so I extinguished the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Perhaps the soldiers might be less guarded if they believed I was asleep.

I returned to my place by the doors, sinking down and wrapping my arms around my knees. A confrontation was looming, I was sure of it. But when? How was the Celestial Army involved? And why did they transform the clouds to sand?