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“We can’t,” Wenzhi said decisively. “Even if we mustered an army to aid us, Wugang would sense the moment our forces approached, and he would crush it with everything at his disposal. It would be carnage.”

“It would also alert Wugang,” Liwei cautioned. “If he knows we intend to destroy the laurel, he will stop at nothing to keep it safe. We would never be able to reach it.”

“Then we must endeavor to keep him in the dark,” Wenzhi agreed.

My spirits lifted to hear them speaking this way, without resentment or hostility. “In the Eastern Sea, we had to entice Governor Renyu to come to us,” I said to Wenzhi. “What if we could trick Wugang into bringing us to the laurel?”

His lips pressed taut as he pondered my words. “There is only one person Wugang will let near the laurel,” Wenzhi said finally, a trace of reluctance weighing his tone.

I stilled, catching his meaning. There was only one person Wugang would allow near the laurel … not because he trusted her but because it would mean the fulfillment of his schemes.

My mother.

“No.” The air seemed to close around me as I searched for the flaws in his suggestion.

“We will protect her. She will come to no harm.”

Wenzhi was not one to shy from hard decisions. A part of me wanted to lash out at him, even as my mind whispered that he was right. This was our best chance … perhaps our only one.

“Wugang’s soldiers do his bidding, but they will not hurt her,” Wenzhi said. “You saw how they acted on the beach.”

“Perhaps, but Wugang will have no qualms in doing so,” I argued. “He will draw my mother’s blood to harvest the seeds. We cannot let him take her—not just because I won’t let anyone harm her, but because once she is in Wugang’s power, he wins.”

I continued, plunging onward. “Mother has no magic, nothing to either conceal or release the feather’s power. Wugang would sense it on her at once, if it doesn’t destroy her first, and if we lose the feather—we will have failed.”

I was shaking, I only realized it then. Liwei touched my arm. “You are right. We will find another way.”

“What if we disguised someone as your mother?” Wenzhi proposed.

I had done it before; pretended to be Lady Anmei in the Eastern Sea. Except such a ruse would never work here. “Wugang is far more astute than Governor Renyu; a mere change in clothing would not suffice. He knows my mother from his stay with us—her voice, mannerisms, and aura—and he will not forget.”

“What about an enchantment?” Liwei suggested. “Though the few I am aware of are merely surface deep, an illusion of the face and form.”

I recalled Tao’s enchantment when we had broken into the Imperial Treasury, and what he had told me of another. “I heard there is a rare magic that can replicate not just one’s appearance, but their aura and voice too.” I added slowly, “If so, I could disguise myself as my mother.”

Liwei frowned. “Auras are as unique to us as the whorls on our fingers. This must be an ancient magic, for no one speaks of such a thing these days.”

“Ancient and forbidden,” Wenzhi said gravely. “The Divine Mirror Scroll is one of the most powerful Mind enchantments. For as long as it holds, it would be almost impossible for someone to detect the difference.”

“A forbidden scroll?” Liwei’s tone was one of revulsion.

“One of many your father destroyed,” Wenzhi replied coldly. “Fortunately for us, they were restored.”

“Where is it?” I asked Wenzhi. Perhaps Liwei thought me a hypocrite, willing to use whatever means necessary to win. With such stakes, he might be right.

“The scroll is with my father. It is one of his most treasured possessions.”

“Will he give it to us?” I asked, doubt flashing through me.

“I will ask, but he will be wary of my request. My father doesn’t trust anyone. Neither his courtiers nor his consorts, and least of all his children. The greatest threat of betrayal is when there is the most to gain or lose,” Wenzhi said grimly.

Something flickered in his expression. Did he recall how he had betrayed me for the dragons’ pearls? Greed, ambition, and fear were powerful forces that could cloud one’s heart and mind.

A bird trilled, a vigilant herald of dawn. Wenzhi glanced at the lightening skies, of crimson and rose. “I will return to speak to him before he heads to court.”

“We will wait for you near the border of the Eastern Sea. I dare not linger here, as Lady Xihe will be emerging soon.”

Wenzhi nodded, raising a hand to summon a cloud. Tension gripped his body, his expression somber. Did he dread the confrontation with his father? What a strange relationship these royals had between parent and child. Was it power that muddied the bond? Those onerous expectations of duty? The Celestial Emperor had disparaged Liwei for his lack of ruthlessness and blunted ambition, while Wenzhi’s father feared his son had too much of it.