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“You know nothing of her,” Liwei said coldly as we slipped into the tunnel.

“Is that right?” The mocking lilt in Wenzhi’s tone was intended to infuriate. “Xingyin and I spent years together, battling creatures beyond your nightmares, seeing places you have only dreamed of. We have camped beneath the skies, at the foothills of the Mortal Realm, in palaces and in tents. I know more of her than you ever will, sitting in a classroom surrounded by teachers.”

I burned hot and cold at his words, anger rising at his presumption. “None of what we had was real; none of it meant anything.”

“It was real,” Wenzhi said quietly. “Lie to me all you want, just don’t lie to yourself.”

An ache pulsed in my chest. When he spoke to me in this earnest manner, it chipped away at the barrier I had built against him. But I would never relent, I would guard myself better this time—my heart could not withstand more hurt.

Rushing sounds ruptured the silence, growing louder, the streaming wall of water looming before us—a sliver of the ocean’s crushing force. As I raised Ping’er’s pearl before me, the waters parted. We dashed through the corridor, our magic flowing forth to summon clouds to bear us to the surface, the ring of blue sky above a welcome sight.

The sun blazed down, warm and bright, beginning its descent across the heavens. As we soared through the waters, a breeze surged into my face, infused with the salt of the sea. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply—but then an unseen force coiled fast around us, yanking us toward the shore so swiftly we tumbled upon the sands.

I rolled up, springing to my feet—the dazzling brightness of sunlight striking the white sands almost blinding me. Ice plunged down the base of my neck. No … it was not the beach that glittered so but the white-gold armor of Celestial soldiers, led by an immortal twirling a bamboo flute between his scarred fingers.

Kneel before your emperor, and I might be inclined to mercy,” Wugang commanded.

My eyes flared in disbelief, taking in his pearl-encrusted headpiece, the gold dragon-shaped hairpin pinning it into place. The way the soldiers behind him bent their heads in complete subservience.

“Emperor?” Liwei repeated wrathfully. “You dare much, you fraud.”

Wugang’s smile was riddled with malice. His slender fingers lifted a yellow jade ornament by his waist, so brilliant it appeared gilded over, carved with a pair of dragons encircling the sun. Only one person carried that seal; it was death for another to take it.

“How did you get my father’s seal?” Liwei’s tone sank with dread. “What did you do to him?”

A long pause, a measured cruelty. “He’s alive, for now. He’s still of use to me, as is his court. We must retain some semblance of order. However, the guards and attendants who remained loyal to him, who attempted to fight back, did not fare so well.” Wugang shrugged. “Fortunately, their deaths sufficed to convince those more reluctant to concede.”

My stomach churned until I thought I would be sick. He spoke of killing so easily, just as he had taken Ping’er’s life with no more hesitation than crumpling a sheet of paper. While I could not honestly claim to bear any respect or affection for the Celestial Emperor, those who hurt Liwei, hurt me too. What of General Jianyun and Teacher Daoming? I assured myself they would be safe; they were high-ranking members of the court, valuable hostages. While Minyi would be safe in the kitchens. I dared not ask after them, I dared not show I cared, for he would use that against me.

How had this happened? My mind spun, the pieces falling into place: Queen Suihe’s strange words earlier, Wugang’s efforts to malign Liwei, to isolate the Celestial Emperor from his other advisors, assuming control over the Celestial Army. I had thought he was maneuvering himself to become the emperor’s sole confidant, his chosen heir—not to usurp the throne from the Celestial Emperor whose position had always seemed unassailable. Wugang’s carefully cultivated loyalty had blinded all to his true intent. He had orchestrated everything, not on the emperor’s behalf, but for himself—to seize my home and the laurel … along with the power it could bestow.

Wugang had never forgiven the Celestial Emperor and the immortals for the humiliation wreaked upon him. He had waited all this time to exact his vengeance, just as he had done with his wife and her lover. And while I could understand his pain, while I cared little for the Celestial Court—Wugang had drawn those closest to me into the vicious web of his schemes, destroying our lives with the same callousness as the immortals had ruined his.

“You are nothing but a fraud, a vile traitor, and coward.” Liwei was almost shaking from anger. “My father trusted you, he gave you everything, and this is how you repay him?”

“He trusted me because I did his bidding without complaint. His loyal servant. He gave me all I have here because he had taken everything else, forcing me from the Mortal Realm to this accursed place. I will never forget how he tormented me when I was at his mercy, and I have long awaited the day to repay him in full.”

“He honored you beyond any mortal,” Liwei said.

“By making me immortal?” A laugh erupted from Wugang’s throat. “Such arrogance among your kind. Not everyone wants to live forever. I was content with my lot: my wife, family, and work—insignificant though it may seem to you. I had everything, until it was snatched away by one of your kind. Ruining our lives upon a whim, a moment’s lust. My wife was just a diversion to him, but the damage wrought was eternal—turning my loving spouse into a despicable cheat, all my dreams into nightmares.”

His breathing came shallow and uneven. “I lost interest in everything. Consumed by despair, I even thought of ending my life. Except why should I suffer for their crimes? If I no longer cared whether I lived or died, what did it matter if I challenged the gods themselves? I could avenge myself for this dishonor, make them pay. That would make life worth living. It was the finest moment of my life to sever his immortal head from his neck. Me, an unworthy mortal.” His fingers clenched around his flute as though he was reliving the past. “You think immortality is a gift? When you care for nothing, it’s a curse.”

I hardened myself against the anguish in his words. “What of those who’ve suffered at your hands? Ping’er never harmed you, and still you killed her. You are no better than those you condemn.”

Almost trembling, I whipped my bow free, drawing its string, an arrow blazing in my grasp. Soldiers surged forth to encircle Wugang—dozens of them, over a hundred or more. Despite their pallor, their steady bearing betrayed neither fear nor doubt. I squinted to get a clearer look at them, trying to make out their faces beneath their helmets—yet the light glittered too bright against their armor, it seemed to dance upon their very skin. If I released my arrow, if they attacked us, could we flee?

“I would not.” Wugang spoke in the knowing tone of a teacher instructing a pupil, a powerful shield gleaming across his body.

Two soldiers dragged an immortal forward. Her headdress sat crooked on her head, her robe ripped on one side and streaked with dark stains. The Celestial Empress. Shock jolted me, as Liwei drew a ragged breath. As she struggled, her gold nail sheaths raked her captors—but they neither flinched nor cried out, despite the poison in those talons.

“Mother!” Liwei bolted forward, but I moved in front of him, my arrow still drawn.

“No,” I cautioned. “It’s a trap.”

“If it’s a hostage you want, I will take her place,” Liwei called out.

I swallowed my protest, keeping my arrow trained upon the soldiers. Their eyes did not follow it; not a flicker of apprehension did they show.