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“Why not?” I ground out. “What more do you want of us?”

He said nothing, merely looking at me with those pale eyes. He would not relent, nor would he tell us more.

“A week,” I countered. Another idea dawned, small recompense though it was. “You will also leave the Eastern Sea in peace. You will not hold this encounter against them.”

“Very well. Their offense has been repaid in blood. I will not demand more unless they move against me.” Wugang’s head tipped toward the sun. “Are we in accord?”

“How do I know you will keep your word?” A lesson I had learned from the Celestial Empress.

“I swear this upon the honor of my parents. The ones who gave me life, whom I cherish though they are long gone.” He pressed a fist to his chest. “If I break this oath, may their spirits never find peace, may they haunt me for eternity.”

I believed him. How I hated this, but Wugang’s death would not bring back those lost, and at least we had salvaged a temporary reprieve. As Wenzhi’s sword lifted from his neck and his binds vanished, Wugang strode to the safety of his soldiers. They surrounded him at once, their heads cocked for his command, their guandao clutched tight. For a moment, I feared treachery—except there was still a sliver of honor in him despite his mockery of the virtue. As clouds swooped down to the beach, he leapt upon one, his army taking flight after him.

Prince Yanming coughed, a gurgling sound. I fell to my knees beside him. Words tumbled from my lips, terror seizing me that time was running out. “I’m sorry, I promised to keep you safe.”

“You did.” His tongue darted over his lips, so cracked and pale. His breathing came hoarser than before, each labored rattle a stab to my chest. “The dragons. I never asked you what they were like.”

Could he not see them? Had death begun to glaze his vision, sheathing it in night? We could not save him … yet perhaps we might bring him one last glimmer of joy.

I turned to the dragons and bowed low. “Please. The boy needs you.”

The dragons prowled closer, their great bodies blocking the red curve of the sun. Sand scattered over us as their tails lashed the air. Prince Yanming tugged his hand from mine with a sudden eagerness, stretching it out to them. His mouth opened, no words emerging—yet such yearning shone from his eyes as they lingered upon the magnificent creatures. The Pearl Dragon with its luminous scales of moonlight, the Long Dragon ablaze like flame, the dragon of deepest night, and the one as golden as the summer sun.

“Can you save him?” Despair choked Prince Yanxi’s voice as he fell to his knees in reverence.

This is beyond our power. Infinite sorrow thrummed in those words.

The Long Dragon bent its head to Prince Yanming’s brow gently, crimson scales against ashen skin. A shiver rippled through the boy’s body—of delight—I sensed. He pulled his other hand from his brother’s grip, wrapping his arms around the dragon’s neck without a trace of fear.

“You are real,” Prince Yanming whispered, pressing his cheek against the dragon’s jaw as the others drew closer, forming a circle around us. A tear slid from the corner of his eye, vanishing into the sand.

Do not be afraid, child, the Long Dragon said to him, yet in its mercy, allowed us to hear. We will watch over your spirit. You will have a place with us for as long as you wish, or become one with the sea whenever you choose to.

The dragons leaned toward the boy, their amber eyes aglow, their jaws parted in a gentle smile. An answering one spread across Prince Yanming’s face, so warm and beautiful that a wild hope bloomed in me. But then his eyelids sank shut, his arms falling limp by his sides. A wisp of breath slid from his lips, his aura winking out like a candle flame at the end of its wick. And there was nothing left but the stillness and this devouring pain in my heart.

He was gone. Skin cold, limbs slack. His radiance extinguished like a lantern snuffed out. Prince Yanxi folded over his brother’s body, his shoulders heaving with grief.

“I’m sorry.” These words were a thin echo of the sorrow which engulfed me. There was so much more I wanted to say, yet nothing would come, each inane phrase crumbling like sand beneath my feet. How could I ease his pain when I was drowning in it myself? I had loved Prince Yanming for the little time I knew him, while his brother had loved him all his life.

“We must go. Wugang might change his mind and return. We cannot trust so fully in his honor,” Wenzhi warned.

“I will bring him home.” Prince Yanxi slid his arms beneath his brother’s shoulders and knees, cradling him tight, as he rose slowly to his feet. His eyes were dull as they fixed upon Prince Yanming’s face, locked in unnatural stillness, this mask of death he would wear forever.

The urge beat in my chest to follow him, to see Prince Yanming laid to rest in the Eastern Sea. A selfish whim, as I should not impose myself on their hospitality, to add to their troubles when they were a kingdom in mourning.

I drew an unsteady breath, my teeth cutting into my lip. My farewells had been said; I could not ask for more. My fingers instinctively closed around the paper dragon Prince Yanming had crafted for me, its edges still crisp. A keepsake, my mind pleaded. Something to remember him by. Yet I did not need anything to keep him alive in my heart. With trembling fingers, I tucked the paper dragon into Prince Yanming’s limp hand. Bending down, I pressed my lips to his cold forehead … and I wept. Tears surged into my eyes, running down my cheeks. My breaths came ragged and hoarse. For never again, would he fling his arms around me, never again would I hear his bright laughter.

“Thank you,” Prince Yanxi said quietly. “Yanming would have liked that. He talked about the dragons all the time. He loved their stories best.”

The Pearl Dragon glided toward him, its scales shimmering like silvered snow. He was a rare spirit. I would bear him on this final journey. I would bear you both.

Prince Yanxi hesitated before bowing low. “It would be our honor.”

The Pearl Dragon shook its mane, a mist forming around the Eastern Sea princes that lifted them onto its back. With painstaking gentleness, Prince Yanxi laid his brother’s head against his chest. How peaceful he looked; lashes curled like half-moons grazing his rounded cheeks. If only I could delude myself that he was asleep, though even in slumber he could never have kept so still. With a graceful bound, the Pearl Dragon soared into the sky toward the Eastern Sea. I stared after them until they were swallowed by the dark. Had the sun set? I did not notice, the stars shining upon us now.

The Celestial Empress was staring at the other dragons, her lips pursed into a knot. “Come, Liwei. We must go to the Phoenix Kingdom. These creatures are not to be trusted. They bear a grudge against your father.”

“They are not like you,” I said with feeling. “Even though they have every right to resent their imprisonment, they are neither vengeful nor vindictive. They will not harm you or your kin.”