Page 41
“Is that so surprising?” Her smile was pensive. “Tears are born of our deepest emotion, whether joy or grief. They are a part of us, just like our blood through which our magic flows. It is said the tears of some immortals possess great power, that manifests in unexpected ways. For us of the Southern Sea, our tears can transform into pearls—though it is a rare occurrence, perhaps only once or twice in our lifetime. A gift to our loved ones and also a key to our realm, so they can always find their way back to us.”
My hands moved to my necklace, unclasping it. Cradling it in my palm, I held it out to her, though it pained me to yield it. “I was unaware of its meaning when Ping’er gave it to me. Please take it.”
Her fingertips brushed the pearl’s lustrous surface. “She must have loved you greatly. And no, I will not take my sister’s gift to you.” She inclined her head to me. “I must attend to my mother. She is distraught.”
“I am sorry.” The words were torn from deep within.
“I’m sorry too. For driving her away, for not telling her how much I loved her, and most of all, for not asking her to come home.” Her shoulders tensed, her fingers curling. “I don’t know how she died or why, but don’t let it be for nothing.”
I nodded in silent assent, holding fast to this fragile solace. I would not flinch from the hurt or tuck Ping’er away in some untouched part of my mind. I would embrace the pain, for it meant that I loved her—and I would never forget.
I pulled the gossamer curtains around the bed, sinking upon the soft mattress. Exhaustion pressed upon my limbs, yet sleep eluded me—the pain in my chest sharpening each time I shut my eyes. A gentle clinking broke the stillness, the strands of beads that fringed our doorway knocking together with the breeze. This deep underwater, how could there be a wind? Perhaps it was some enchantment like the glowing coral that illuminated our room, or the floor, speckled like sunlit sand.
Finally, I rose and headed to my mother’s chamber, just down the corridor from mine. She had changed into a fresh set of garments, provided by the attendants. The pure white brocade was a color my mother often wore, yet devoid of her usual vivid underrobe and bright-colored silk ornaments. She was winter, snow, and ice. The moon in mourning.
“Could you not sleep?” I asked.
A shudder ran through her. “There would be no rest in it.”
She was right, for too many nightmares would haunt us tonight.
We sat by the table, crafted with flat pieces of mother-of-pearl layered together like the scales of a fish. Small plates of food were laid out: tarts brimming with yellow custard, pastries of crushed almond and honey, glistening discs of sweetmeats. Though I had not eaten all day, their rich scents turned my stomach.
As my mother lifted the teapot, her hands trembled, the amber liquid spilling.
“Let me, Mother.” I took it gently from her, filling our cups. My training had taught me to feign strength when there was none, and to strike with a steady hand even when fractured within.
Someone knocked, sliding the doors apart. Shuxiao entered, Wenzhi following her, as he stooped to avoid colliding with the beads.
“What are you doing here?” His presence startled me, though I should have grown accustomed to him appearing when I least expected him to.
“He came looking for you and found me instead,” Shuxiao said with a smirk. “A careless mistake.”
His lips formed a sardonic smile. “I asked the attendant for the room of the fierce one, the one who looked ready to attack upon the slightest provocation.”
“Only those who deserve it.” I glared at him, even as a part of me was relieved to feel anything other than this hollow ache. “How did you get here?”
Wenzhi lifted an ornament by his waist, a black pearl adorned with an amethyst silk tassel. “A gift from Queen Suihe so our messengers could enter her domain. When we challenged the Celestial Kingdom, we rose in her esteem. Since then, she has cultivated cordial relations with us.”
“Are they your allies?” I asked, surprised.
“The Southern Sea has no formal alliance with us, nor with any kingdom in the Immortal Realm. While they did not come to our aid in the war, neither did they rise against us. Queen Suihe has kept the Southern Sea free of many a battle. Yet while they have few enemies, they have fewer friends.”
“Which are you at the moment?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Neither. Both. Queen Suihe is a consummate diplomat, something my father appreciates. She switches directions as ruthlessly as the wind, with a keen sense for the winning side.”
My gut churned. Such shifting loyalties gave me little comfort.
My mother fixed Wenzhi with a cold stare. “I thank you for your aid. However, you have much to answer for in your treatment of my daughter.”
“It is my greatest regret,” he said gravely.
A tense silence fell over us, but I would not let myself dwell on his words. “Do you have news?” I asked him.
“Just that you can rest easy for now. No official proclamation has been issued regarding the attack on your home—if the Celestial Kingdom wanted their allies’ support, they would have sent word by now. Nevertheless I wanted to ensure Queen Suihe had not tossed you into prison upon a whim; she will not hesitate upon the slightest whiff of suspicion. There are many cells hidden within this palace, impervious to magic, impossible to escape from.”
“I trust you know such places well,” I remarked.
