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Footsteps thudded outside. Armor clinked.

“His Highness requests a report.” A woman’s voice this time.

She spoke so softly I had to close my eyes, straining to hear. Just as I had done when shooting blindfolded in the peach blossom forest.

“No trouble. She was quiet today and went to bed early. Maybe she’s finally coming around.”

Someone laughed. I clenched my jaws at the mocking sound.

“Captain Mengqi, we missed His Highness’s address,” another said in a respectful tone. “Do you have any news for us?”

My ears pricked up. A captain? She might be better informed.

“Our sources tell us the Celestial Crown Prince will join the army tomorrow. They will march the day after, at dawn.”

Liwei was coming here? Why? My soaring hope plunged into fear as I wondered, what would Wenzhi do? Somehow, he would twist this to his advantage. Which meant . . . this was a trap and I, its bait.

Someone cleared his throat. “Is everything in order?” he asked, a little nervously.

“The moment they cross the border, our victory is sealed.” Her voice throbbed with satisfaction, as grunts of approval met her words.

Shortly after, Captain Mengqi left. As her footsteps faded to silence, I slumped against the wall, fighting down a burst of panic. Why was the Celestial Army here? It could not be for me—the emperor would never lift a finger in my defense, especially not after the lies Wenzhi had spread. They must be here for the pearls. But why would they come, alone, without even gathering their allies? Surely, they did not mean to attack and break the truce—not for a war they were not ready for, one they did not want. More than Wenzhi’s claim, I sensed the truth in this. In the Celestial Army, there seemed to be little appetite to engage with the Demon Realm again. Soldiers did not speak of the past confrontation with triumph, but in hushed voices, sunken with dread. They had gone to battle expecting a quick victory, only to limp back with a frail truce.

No, the Celestials would not cross the border. Liwei would never be so rash, not even if he were provoked. I had studied with him; I knew his mind. Reckless loss of life was not something he would accept. Was this a decoy, to distract the Demon Realm while they searched for the pearls? But Wenzhi must realize the Celestial Army did not intend to invade, he had said as much earlier. What could he be planning? With the pearls in his possession, Wenzhi controlled the dragons. It was in his greatest advantage to force a confrontation now, close to his homeland. Yet if they attacked the Celestials without cause, the rest of the Immortal Realm would rise against them.

My head throbbed as I tried to piece together the fragments of my thoughts. The Cloud Wall lay beside the Golden Desert. The soldiers had changed the violet clouds into sand. Were they creating a new border? An illusion of one? The sudden realization left me cold.

It was a trap, but one far worse than I had imagined.

The Celestials would be lured into the Demon Realm with a false border. Once they crossed over, they would be in violation of the truce and vulnerable to retaliation. Not even their allies could fault the Demon Realm for anything they did to defend themselves. An ambush would await the Celestials—I was sure of it—nothing would be left to chance. A devious plan, a heinous one.

My fist flew to my mouth, stifling my cry. Oh, if only I had not taken the pearls! But I had been tempted by the power, desperate for a way to free my mother without paying the emperor’s price. How greedy I had been in trying to have it all. How utterly arrogant, in thinking that I could protect them when I could not even protect myself. And now, the upcoming devastation, the deaths of thousands would be on my conscience.

A wave of midnight swept over me, stealing the last of my strength. I closed my eyes yet all I could see was the ground awash with blood, glittering with the armor of fallen Celestials. Liwei’s unseeing gaze. Shuxiao’s lifeless body. The faces of those I had served with flashed across my mind, all marching toward their doom. I bit down hard on my knuckle until the skin split and a warm gush of iron and salt spilled into my mouth. My vision blurred from the hot tears filling my eyes as I crumpled to the ground, my body curled into a tight ball, my hands clenching into fists that could do nothing but pummel the cold marble floor.

33

I could not let Liwei and the Celestial Army walk into the deadly trap which awaited them. I could not let them die because of me.

What could I do to prevent it? If I had my magic and the Jade Dragon Bow, I might have taken my chances and stormed out. But powerless, weaponless, friendless—my hope of escaping was as slender as a mouse trapped in a tiger’s claws. For now, I had only my wits to depend on. And I reminded myself, not every battle could be won with brute force; sometimes it was water that could wear down stone.

I had lashed out at Wenzhi as a child would—hurt, angry, and rash. My defiance only roused his suspicions of me, which made escape harder. I needed to convince him I had a change of heart to get him to lower his guard. Only then might I recover the pearls and escape. But he would not be easily duped. Tears might be useful, except Wenzhi had seen me slay monsters without flinching. Pleading would not work; his ambition was pitiless. Nor would it be easy to lie to him, he knew me too well. At least, he thought he did—anger searing me as I recalled his arrogant assumptions. How could he ever imagine that I would fall in with his vile plans?

But perhaps I could use what he knew of me against him, to let him think he had swayed me to his side. He had tried to use my mother’s freedom to tempt me. He believed I would do anything to save her, just as he had done to secure his position. He was wrong, I was not like him. My honor was precious to me, and I knew it was precious to my mother, too.

It was dark still, yet I threw aside the covers and rose to ready myself, my stomach churning as it always did the morning of a battle. This time, however, I had no weapons beyond smiles and words, neither of which I was adept at wielding. And instead of armor, I would be clad in silk. I rummaged through the closet, crammed with exquisite garments in vivid colors. How trivial and wrong this felt, to worry about my attire now. Yet a polished outward appearance would distract from the hollow lies I planned on uttering. Determined on this course, I pulled out a black robe which suited well my current mood. Feathered cranes were embroidered on its skirt and when I touched a white wing, it fluttered, the bird soaring through the midnight silk. If only I could do the same.

Hours passed, the sun rising higher in the sky, still Wenzhi did not come. I thought bitterly, perhaps he was too busy planning for the slaughter tomorrow. Setting his traps, plotting and scheming, while all I had accomplished so far was to scrape a sizable hole in the table. No, I could not just sit here and wait when those I cared for were in danger. If he did not come, I would seek him out—before it was too late.

Striding to the doors, I rapped loudly upon them. Muted voices filtered through the silk-lined panel.

“Don’t answer, it’s another trick,” one whispered.

“What if she’s hurt or something is wrong?”

Another snorted. “Hurt? We’ll be the ones hurt if we open the doors.”

I scowled to hear their suspicions, well-founded though they were. In my attempts to escape I had clawed, kicked, and cursed them with abandon. Impatient now, I demanded, “I need to see Prince Wenzhi.” His title felt awkward on my tongue.