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“Cry,” Wenzhi said quietly. “Let your pain go.”

I was ripped raw inside, just as the night I had fallen to the Celestial Kingdom, alone and afraid—when my heart was broken by Liwei’s betrothal, and yes, even by Wenzhi’s treachery. Somehow his ruthless logic and empathy stemmed the flood of despair I had been drowning in. The tears came then, streaming down in a silent current—for those I had lost, all that was forever beyond my reach. Gasps wrung from my throat in a broken rhythm. And I allowed myself this weakness, because I could no longer hold it in.

For I could not dispel the sinking dread that no matter what I did, death and suffering trailed in my wake as surely as the night follows the dusk.

The sun had dwindled to a crimson ember. We waited upon our clouds, hidden from sight, our auras masked. It was no easy matter to gain passage to the Fragrant Mulberry Grove—we had been too slow before, the pathway darkening before us, an impenetrable barrier forming that we could not breach. Since our grace period from Wugang had lapsed, we were on constant guard for fear of discovery. A hard task, when my mind kept drifting to the sight of Prince Yanming in his brother’s arms. And when I closed my eyes to block out these searing images, his frail gasp echoed in my ears.

“Xingyin. Be ready,” Liwei warned.

As a rush of power stirred the air, a gleaming chariot of white jade streaked past. We shot after it, our clouds speckling the skies as we chased the simmering trail of heat, keeping out of sight yet careful not to fall behind. The phoenix soared with breathtaking speed, each feather a curl of writhing flame, sparks scattering in its wake like a cloak of stars. A stately immortal rode upon it, her black hair coiled into a gold and topaz headdress, her vermilion robes billowing in the wind. A shining harness was fastened around the phoenix’s neck, its strap wound around her hand. As she flung her other arm forward, blazing ropes of flame uncoiled, lashing the phoenix. It let out a piercing shriek as it raced onward, dragging the chariot after it.

This burst of speed had caught us unaware before, but we were ready this time, our clouds surging ahead to keep pace. Already, the curtain of dusk was descending, the glare from the chariot waning. For the first time, I caught a clear glimpse of the creature sheltered within—a being of incandescent light.

The sunbird, the last of its kind. Sorrow gripped me as I imagined the sunbird’s existence, as solitary as my childhood had been—but with the added pain, the yawning ache of knowing all it had lost. Did it relive the horror of seeing its siblings struck down, their wings stilling as they fell from the sky, their light fading to dark? I had felt the agony of losing a loved one, but dared not fathom the loss of nine at once. My father had saved the world, yet he had also taken these beloved children from their family. An act of greatness did not lessen the sorrow inflicted, for love could not be tallied and weighed.

Every hero was a villain to the other side … and to them, my father must be the greatest monster of all.

Just ahead, towered a luminous wall of yellow marble that surrounded the Fragrant Mulberry Grove. Gold spikes ringed the top like the teeth of a comb, a powerful magic winding between the points in gleaming rivulets, seeping into the stone itself. The chariot dashed through the arched entrance, the doors sealing shut after it. Its circular panel was split into two, carved into phoenix wings on each side, the tips of their gilded feathers weaving together in a seamless embrace. Twin bodies arched along the frames, their necks grazing in the middle from where they curved into opposing directions.

As we landed, my flesh prickled with foreboding. A foolish thing to enter the dwelling of my father’s enemy uninvited. Unwelcome.

The Celestial Empress remained on her cloud. “Liwei, let them go on. Come with me to the Phoenix Kingdom. We must convince Queen Fengjin of the threat Wugang poses to the realm. Only with the armies of the Phoenix Kingdom can we reclaim what is ours.” She spoke clearly, intending to be heard. “Queen Fengjin is still keen to renew the betrothal. Our alliance is more crucial than ever. A marriage would bind them to us and we will have a place there, even if we lose the Celestial Kingdom.”

I looked away, trying to calm the erratic beat of my pulse. The empress was shrewd, striking while Liwei was ignorant of the bargain she had forced upon me. He believed I did not want to marry him, that I had given him up of my own will … that another lay in my heart, one whom he despised above all. The empress’s offer would be undeniably tempting: Why should Liwei not marry the princess? Why should he not do what was best for himself, his family and kingdom—as he had done before? I could not be selfish; I had no right to be. What was another loss today?

“No, Mother. I will not barter myself for a crown.” Liwei spoke with such resolve, the tautness in my chest loosened.

“Don’t be a fool,” the empress cried. “You can have it all back—your position, your power. Now that you know what it’s like to be without.”

He drew away from her, his expression hardening. “Don’t ask this of me again.”

“Unfilial child! What about your family? You must do this for your father and me.”

Her desperation shook me. How would Liwei feel hearing it, when she had always been so haughty and unyielding before?

“Mother, I will honor and protect you. I will fight to reclaim our position. I will ask for Queen Fengjin’s aid as our ally, but no more,” he said. “What I will not do is marry someone I do not love.”

She cursed then, spewing hateful words. Liwei turned from her, his eyes opaque, my chest caving at the sight. The empress raised a hand after him, then let it fall—her face twisted not with rage or cunning, just a wild fear that she might have driven away the one who was most precious to her.

But she was never one for self-recrimination. As she spun to me, I flinched from the blazing hatred in her gaze. “This is all your doing. You cleared the way to Wugang’s rise.”

“This is not Xingyin’s fault,” Liwei said at once.

It is, my mind whispered. While Wenzhi had spoken the truth before that I had not guided the choices of others, neither had anyone forced my hand. I had wanted to free my mother, to save my father, to help the dragons. Wugang’s actions were his own to bear, but mine had enabled his ascent nonetheless.

“My dear son.” The empress’s tone was iron. “You discarded the engagement that would have secured your position. As the heir to the Celestial Kingdom and son-in-law to Queen Fengjin, you would have been unassailable. Your feelings for this insignificant girl have brought you as low as she is. Daughter to the villainous Houyi and that grasping mortal Chang’e—she is unworthy of you.”

Rage surged through me as I stalked to the empress’s cloud. My days of being scorned by her were over. I was not afraid of her, for what else could she do to me that she had not tried? “I know my own worth and that of my family. My father saved the Mortal Realm. My mother saved me. And while I may not have the gilded lineage you so admire, I am worthy—” I stopped before I spoke Liwei’s name; my vow to her had stripped that right from me.

“It is you who is unworthy to speak my parents’ names,” I said instead.

Heat sparked in the air. Spurred by instinct, I darted aside—just as tongues of vermilion fire sprang from the empress’s palms. Magic rippled from my own hands, arcing over her flames, glazing them like frost. Her mouth clamped tighter, eyes pinched as she bore down with greater force. My teeth ground together—a struggle to keep steady under her assault—yet I held my ground, my energy pouring forth in waves to engulf her flames, throttling them into thick spirals of smoke.

My hand fell, the last glimmers of magic fading to dark. The empress and I stood facing each other, her expression pitted with fury. A part of me had always known it would come to this one day—that she would try to kill me, or I her. I could have shielded myself instead of smothering her attack, but I had wanted to challenge her, to prove that I was more than what she believed me to be. That my power rivaled hers in the way that mattered more than any meaningless title and crown—both of which she had taken such pride in, both of which she had lost.

Wenzhi released the hilt of his sword as though he had been about to strike, while Liwei rounded on the empress. “Mother, how could you?” His tone pulsed with rage.

The empress lifted a shaking finger at me. “You tricked me. You plotted this all along.”