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“A noble son.” Wugang laughed. “I am tempted by your offer. It would ensure that she behaves herself too.” The look he shot at me was steeped in malevolence.

“Liwei, stay where you are,” the empress commanded sharply. “I am unhurt.”

“Why is my mother here?” Liwei demanded.

“She was caught trying to flee to the Phoenix Kingdom. We couldn’t have her whispering into Queen Fengjin’s ear, mustering their army in her support.” Wugang’s eyes shone like cold bronze. “It was a great favor you did me, when you refused the suit of their princess. It opened a rift I was able to exploit—between the kingdoms, within your family itself.”

I fought back a flash of guilt. Liwei did not love Princess Fengmei, and nothing I did would change that. Wugang wanted to divide us further, to sow discord, to make us vulnerable to his manipulation. It was his greatest skill. I stared at the Celestial Empress, trapped among the soldiers. While I had little desire to rescue her, Liwei would not leave her and I would not leave him.

“My messenger informed me that you were Queen Suihe’s guests. She will learn to choose her company with greater care.” Menace crawled in Wugang’s tone, his shift in mood sudden and unsettling. “The queen is fortunate if we do not punish her for harboring you.”

“Queen Suihe was ignorant of our situation.” I bore her little gratitude, but it was the truth.

“Her Majesty is not easily duped. You’ve grown more adept than when you were a loudmouthed girl, making crude demands of the emperor before his court.”

“As I recall you to be a devious, pandering snake.” Bold words, despite the fear that slashed me.

The tightening of his jaw yielded a burst of satisfaction, even as I knew I would pay for my insults. He was not one to forget a slight.

His gaze slid around us. “I thank you for escaping. It saved me the tedious effort of retrieving you.”

“How did you know we would be on the beach and not below?” Shuxiao asked.

“You must be careful in whom you place your trust.” Wugang’s mouth curled as he called out, “My thanks, Your Highness, for your counsel. You have proven yourself of use.”

The soldiers parted to reveal Prince Yanxi, clasping Prince Yanming’s hand tightly. Treachery, my mind whispered, the walls of my stomach clenching. Yet Prince Yanxi need not have aided me before. And the expression on his brother’s face, the terror glazed in his wide eyes—I had seen it once in the Eastern Sea, when we had fled from the invading merfolk. Reaching out, Wugang yanked Prince Yanming from his brother’s grasp, clamping his palms upon his small shoulders. Prince Yanxi’s face twisted, frantic with fear.

They were hostages, not allies.

With a wrench, I lowered my bow. I dared not do anything that might endanger them. Ping’er’s death had taught me the meaning of loss.

A cloud drifted before the sun, granting a moment’s respite from its glare. I examined the soldiers—the gilded scales of their armor so familiar to me, except for the helmets which obscured their faces. And yet … Celestial soldiers they were not. Their skin was not just pale but a translucent mottled white, like patches of ice half-thawed. Their features were indistinct, shifting shadows—faint imprints that quivered like reflections on the water. Luminous veins streaked from their necks, across their cheeks and temples, disappearing into their helmets. Two hollows were dug below their brows, from which gleamed pale orbs ringed by an intense glow. Eyes, I had thought them, yet they bore no sign of sight or thought—vacant, unblinking, terrifying. Most disconcerting was the energy that emanated from them, which I only grew aware of now, overlooked in the earlier turmoil. While each immortal’s aura was as different as the waves in the sea, those of the soldiers were identical, like bricks cast from the same mold.

My gaze fell upon a jade disc set into the scales of their armor, right where their hearts should be—if such a thing beat in their chests. A single character was carved upon it: 永. Eternity. One of the first words my mother had taught me to write. The greatest mortal dream, though a nightmare for Wugang.

He tucked the flute into his sash. It had been a monstrous axe the last time I saw it, and it gave me little comfort that he no longer deemed a weapon necessary. Gone were those gloves he used to wear to cover his scars. Maybe he no longer feared the scorn of others.

He gestured at his soldiers. “Are they not beautiful? The perfect army: Strong. Loyal. Obedient.”

“What are they?” The answer darted at the edge of my mind.

“Look closer. Don’t you recognize any?” His tone lifted in invitation, his triumph barely contained.

I searched their faces—strangers, all of them. What did Wugang mean? Just then my gaze fell upon one in the crowd, a faint recognition grazing my awareness—of a soldier who had accompanied Liwei and me to the Eternal Spring Forest. Ten had gone, none returned. No … this could not be him, despite that elusive prickle of familiarity. There was not the faintest glimmer of consciousness in his face, caught somewhere between the living and the dead.

“How dare you.” Liwei’s voice cracked with revulsion. “Fallen Celestials are laid to rest in the Divine Harmony Sky, a place of peace for their immortal spirits to rest. Only then can they achieve true tranquility, to become one with our realm.”

“It is believed to be a curse to disturb the slumber of the dead, to desecrate the sanctity of this place.” Wenzhi’s eyes narrowed in disgust.

“Those already cursed have no fear of such things,” I said slowly. Wugang’s heart was barren. Because he cared for nothing, he feared nothing—and such a thing made him more dangerous by far.

The light emanating from the soldiers’ eyes stirred something in me, their pale glow akin to that of—“The laurel seeds,” I said aloud, recoiling in horror. “Its power was of regeneration and healing, and yet somehow you’ve bent it into this.”

“Is not the destiny of immortals to live forever instead of languishing in a grave?” Wugang taunted. “Resurrection is the greatest healing power of all. Truly, the gift of eternity.”

I studied their blank faces, my insides writhing like a nest of snakes. “You’re a monster. This is no life you’ve given them.”

He slanted his head to one side. “Oh, I didn’t do this alone.”