Page 76

I stared at the empress blankly, until her meaning sank in and a weight fell from my chest. She had attacked me, though I had given her no cause. She had broken the terms of our pact in the mortal teahouse … which meant my vow to her was void. With one stroke, I could sever the misunderstanding between Liwei and me, setting us free of his mother’s malice. We could be together again. The words hovered on my tongue: my promise to his mother, my coldness in pushing him away, the lie of Wenzhi.

Yet as I stared at the empress’s pale face, taut with distress, I found I was not so cruel as to savor a moment that brought such pain to another—even one I despised as much as her. I did not want to widen the rift between Liwei and his mother. This was not the time to divide us further when the threat of Wugang loomed over us all.

But in truth, that was not the sole reason. I was not so noble to keep my silence for the empress alone. There was another reason folded deep in my heart, one I was afraid to examine too closely, ashamed of what I might uncover … that the lies I had told Liwei to set him free—I was no longer sure what they were. Try as I might, I could not forget how I had wept in Wenzhi’s arms, how he had comforted me in my times of greatest need, how his words had eased the anguish that almost broke me then. It meant nothing, just a momentary weakness, I assured myself—yet still I would hold my tongue. The empress’s spiteful accusations were ringed with truth. I was unworthy of Liwei, not because of my lineage but because he deserved better than my divided heart. And I would not offer it again until it was whole, until I was certain, and until we were safe.

I fixed the empress with a hard stare. “I plotted nothing; it was you all along. But no matter the hatred and wrongs between us, you are Liwei’s mother. That means something to me, even if it’s nothing to you.”

As some of the color returned to the empress’s face, Liwei’s gaze searched me. “What do you mean, Xingyin?”

“Just that we should stop turning on each other, for it only aids our enemy.” I looked away from him, so he would not discern the lie.

Wenzhi glared at the empress. “While this has been undoubtedly fascinating, we still need the key to enter the grove. Will you give it to us?” His voice hardened as though expecting objection or trickery.

The empress spun to Liwei. “I will give you the key, my son. All I want is a small favor in return.”

“You would bargain with me?” he bit out.

“Only because you will not see sense.” Her tone was almost cajoling. “Come with me to the Phoenix Kingdom to meet Queen Fengjin. You cannot enter the Fragrant Mulberry Grove.”

“I must, Mother,” he said. “I cannot let—”

“You will not go,” the empress repeated vehemently. “I would rather destroy the key than leave you at Xihe’s mercy. Xihe hates me. Vengeance runs thick in her blood. She will spend her rage upon you, my son, in repayment for what she believes are my offenses. In her mind, I failed to protect her children. She blames me for their deaths.”

“I am not afraid of her,” Liwei said. “If you won’t give us the key, we will find our own way in.”

“You would not survive three steps into the grove without it,” the empress warned. “Only those who possess the key may enter. Only one of you.”

“We need the key,” Wenzhi said to Liwei, his arms folded across his chest. “Will you do as she asks, or should we take it from your mother?”

When Liwei did not reply, the empress added shrewdly, “You promised to protect me. Wugang’s soldiers caught me at the border to the Phoenix Kingdom the last time. They will be keeping a close eye there, and it is safer if you accompany me.”

Liwei’s jaw tightened as he nodded. “I will return here after we’ve spoken to Queen Fengjin, no later.” He extended his palm to his mother. “Where is the key?”

She looked at Wenzhi and me. “Which of you will enter?”

“Why does it matter?” I countered.

An impatient sigh slid from her mouth. “I must relinquish the key to the one who will enter. No other.”

“I will go,” Wenzhi said at once.

“No,” I told him. “It should be me.”

“Why?” he challenged calmly, his gaze boring into mine. “That would be an unnecessary risk. Lady Xihe bears me no ill will; she has no reason to harm me. I have the best chance of persuading her.”

“It is true, Xingyin.” Liwei added acidly, “His skills are uniquely suited to deception.”

Wenzhi’s eyes narrowed. “At least they are of some use.”

His offer tempted me. More than the sense behind his suggestion—I did not want to see the goddess and her sole child, to witness the misery my father’s deeds had wrought. But I could not be a coward now.

As I stepped forward, Wenzhi moved swiftly in front of me, extending his hand to the empress. She seized Wenzhi’s wrist, pressing their palms together. As a flash of scarlet light sparked between them, he recoiled.

“What was that?” His voice thickened with suspicion.

“The key is in my hands. It was why Xihe could not retrieve it.” A trace of sadness clung to the empress’s tone, her shoulders drooping before she straightened. “I cannot give it to you. The key cannot be yielded to any who intend to harm the goddess.”

“I don’t want to harm Lady Xihe. All I want is the feather,” Wenzhi said tersely.