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“You did not turn him away either.”

Liwei thrust a hand through his hair, the dark strands gleaming against his white robe. How this reminded me of the time he had rushed to my room from his bed, in the Courtyard of Eternal Tranquility. When he had kissed me with such hunger and tenderness, awakening the passion that burned in me still. Yet tonight, his expression was far from that of a lover’s.

“I thought you despised him, that you never wanted to see him again. And now I find you taking a midnight stroll together—”

“It’s not like that,” I said tightly, fighting back the sting of shame. “He wanted to see the laurel. I thought he could help.”

“You told him? You trust him? After everything he did?” His shock rang clear.

I lifted my chin. “I don’t trust him, but he might be able to aid us. He wants to make amends.” How feeble this sounded when spoken aloud; lies told to children to secure their trust.

“All he is doing is playing a different game because the rules have changed, and he still wants to win,” Liwei argued.

“He is not a friend, but he might be an ally. Isolated as we are, I am in no position to turn any away,” I said steadily.

“You have me by your side.” Liwei clasped my hand. “I trust you; it’s him I don’t trust. Promise me you will be careful.”

“I will,” I said gravely.

“Perhaps I should adjust the wards again, to bar certain unwanted intruders.” His voice lightened; gone was the last trace of anger.

I laughed, relieved that the worst had passed. “Perhaps all outsiders should be barred from entry.”

“I hope to not be an outsider for much longer.” His knuckles brushed my cheek, feather-light, gliding down my neck. “Next week is my father’s birthday celebration. Would you accompany me?”

I swallowed hard, biting back my instinctive protest. It felt more like an invitation to an execution than a banquet.

He drew away to stare into my face. “This is a chance to mend bridges and heal old wounds. For them to know you as I do.”

“I will go,” I said, even as my insides curled. I could not insult his parents with my refusal; I could not make Liwei choose between us. By accepting him, I accepted them, and somehow we would have to learn to exist together, no matter our past offenses.

I just hoped they understood that too.

Perhaps at the banquet I might be able to soften the Celestial Emperor’s suspicions, to show him I was no threat—it was easier to malign those unseen and unheard. And if not, I might learn something more of his intentions. Too many things were happening at once: the shift of power in the Celestial Army. The theft of the laurel seeds. The emperor’s interest in my home. The pieces were set on the board, and I only wished I knew what game was being played.

One thing was for certain; I was done being a pawn, and if I moved, it would be of my own volition.

The evening was clear and calm; not a single cloud would have dared to mar the Celestial Emperor’s celebration. Liwei and I landed by a mirrored lake, embraced by lilac-gray mountains and graceful cypresses. Gold-tipped lotuses bloomed upon the waters, illuminated by hundreds of floating candles, their light spilling across the waves like ribbons of flame. A crowd of immortals had already gathered within a large pavilion, its roof of malachite tiles gleaming beneath the starlit sky. Stone peonies encircled the base of each gilded column, so intricately carved and painted, they seemed to spring from the ground. Glowing lanterns were strung up between the trees from which clusters of bells cascaded, tinkling with the breeze.

My spirits lightened at the sight of the gaiety, having dreaded another stiff banquet in the Hall of Eastern Light, a place that brought back too many troubling recollections.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“Luminous Pearl Lake. When the moon is full, as it will be tonight, its reflection upon the waters is exquisite,” Liwei said.

I straightened the sash around my waist that held together my azure silk robe. As my fingers brushed the embroidered magnolias, they swayed like a breeze had swept through, raining silken petals that morphed from white to rose. It was beautiful, yet for this evening’s company I would have preferred my bow slung across my back.

When we entered the pavilion, the conversation dwindled to a hush. Guests turned to us before stepping aside, clearing a path to Their Celestial Majesties. They appeared as twin pillars of flame, seated upon carnelian thrones, draped in vermilion robes sewn with dragons and phoenixes encircled by rolling clouds.

Sweat broke out over my palms. I wanted to leave but forced myself onward. Before the thrones, I clasped my hands and lowered myself to the floor. As I bowed my head, the silver pins in my hair pinched where they pulled tight. Ping’er’s deft fingers had twisted my hair into intricate coils that lent me the illusion of belonging amid this dazzling crowd, at least for the night.

“Your Celestial Majesties, I wish you a joyous celebration.” My greeting paled in light of the other extravagant compliments offered, but anything more elaborate would have stuck in my throat.

A long silence followed before I lifted my head to the emperor. Strands of pearls clicked above those stony eyes, glinting with the embers of a simmering wrath. My skin prickled with an echo of the torment the emperor had inflicted upon me, his Sky-fire stabbing like a thousand tiny blades.

“Rise. You are welcome.” The emperor’s tone was gracious, his expression morphed into a mask of calm. Had I imagined that flash of rage? He acted as though we were meeting for the first time, as though I had never defied him and he had not tried to kill me for it. Perhaps it was better this way … if only I could believe it was true.

The empress did not hide her emotions so well. She uttered no words of greeting, her lips mashed into a scarlet bud. The gold headdress on her hair was exquisitely crafted into peonies, studded with pink tourmalines that darkened to the shade of congealed blood as though reflecting her thoughts.