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“Can your informants aid us?” Shuxiao asked Wenzhi.

“Not for so dangerous a venture; they will not risk their position. I am privy to their briefings, but they answer to my father alone. He will not lift a finger to aid the Celestial Crown Prince.” He added contemplatively, “It would not help anyway. You need someone of sufficiently high rank to breach those wards.”

General Jianyun might help us, but his own position was precarious. Unease crawled over my skin as just one other idea surfaced—repellent, yet it offered the best chance of success.

“I need your help to get a message to someone in the Celestial Kingdom,” I told Wenzhi.

“Who would that be?” he asked carefully.

I paused, holding his gaze. “The Celestial Empress.” My steady tone concealed the uncertainty that shook me.

As my mother paled, Wenzhi studied my face. I swallowed to moisten my throat, showing none of the doubt which beat through me. “Will you do this?” I pressed when he did not reply.

He leaned toward me. “If this is what you want. If you have thought this through.”

“Xingyin, is this a joke?” Shuxiao asked. “The empress will never meet you, much less help you.”

“Not for me,” I said. “For her son.”

I was not so deluded as to imagine the Celestial Empress would grant me a favor, when a year ago she had clamored for my death. Yet something bound us that went deeper than hate—our love for Liwei, for we would do all in our power to save him … even stooping to deal with those whom we most despised.

Never did I imagine I would be meeting the Celestial Empress in a mortal teahouse. I almost did not recognize her—stripped of her splendid garments and ornaments, her dazzling aura muted. She was dressed as any other villager, wrapped in a cotton robe, a wooden pin tucked in her hair. Gone were the gold sheaths that covered her fingers, but her tapering nails, ending in sharp points, looked no less threatening.

“You came.” An inane thing to say when she stood before me.

She did not deign to respond, disapproval puckering in her brow as her gaze fell upon the worn wooden floor, the bamboo stools, the unvarnished ceiling beams. Her nose wrinkled as a serving man scurried past, bearing a tray filled with bowls of steaming soup and plates of fish and vegetables. Had I chosen this place to irk her, who clung to pomp and grandeur like a second skin? Perhaps, without even knowing it, but mainly to avoid any trap she might have devised in the Immortal Realm, where she had the upper hand. A test, to gauge how far she was willing to go to save her son—and the fact she was here meant she was as desperate as me.

I lifted the heavy porcelain teapot, pouring her a cup. Not from respect, but my mother’s teaching that I had to show courtesy to an elder, a guest who had accepted my invitation.

She ignored it, lowering herself upon a stool. “Why did you want to meet me here?” Her voice reeked of hostility.

“Where else might we go, Your Celestial Majesty? To the Jade Palace? This meeting is best left unseen. Moreover, this place gives us both comfort, since magic is forbidden here.”

Her cheeks flushed so dark they appeared speckled with blood. “How dare you speak to me as though you are my equal? You are nothing, whereas I am the empress of the earth and skies. Do you forget who judges what is permissible here?”

“Your husband. And I trust you do not wish him to learn of this.” Somehow, I managed a semblance of civility. To show my contempt would gain nothing except fleeting satisfaction and lasting enmity.

Her gaze slid to the window. Was she searching for her guards who waited outside? They were hardly inconspicuous, standing stiffly apart from the mortals, a sneer on their faces despite the humble garments they wore. The thrum of immortal auras pulsed through the air, rising above the efforts to muffle them. Why had they not attacked? What was the empress waiting for?

“I know you hate me,” I said without preamble. “My father killed the sunbirds, but he did it to save the mortals.”

“He could have stopped them without killing them,” she snarled.

“He had no choice. It was that or let the Mortal Realm be destroyed. Deep down, you must suspect who aided him, who had the power to do so.” I said no more, unwilling to break my father’s confidence.

Her gaze fixed on her cup though she made no move to take it, likely disdaining the coarse stalks of tea floating on the murky surface. “You asked me to come here. Why?”

“For the same reason you came. For Liwei.”

Her fingers curled on the table. “This is your fault. Because of you he has become defiant, turning his father against him. You brought him to this pitiful state. Fool that he was, he even refused the betrothal with Princess Fengmei—for you.”

Her words stabbed like knives. Worse, because I could dispute nothing. No one could deny that Princess Fengmei was a far more eligible bride, who would have brought along with her considerable charms, an army to defend her betrothed and an unassailable place on the Phoenix Throne. Unlike me, who had antagonized his mother, stolen from his father, and fled like a criminal.

“Is Liwei in danger?” I went cold inside, my only assurance that the Sky-Drop Tassel had remained still all this time.

She slanted her head back, staring at me down the length of her nose. “He is safe for the moment. My personal guards are keeping watch to ensure there is no foul play. Now, stop wasting my time and tell me what you want.”

“To get Liwei out of the Jade Palace,” I said.