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“As you are in mine.” He tilted his head toward me. “Not knowing is not the same as not wanting. While there is hope, I will wait.”

Before I could reply, something pulsed through the air. My head darted up as I searched our surroundings. “The wind has shifted direction. Swifter. Colder.”

“Clouds, heading our way,” he confirmed grimly.

“We must flee. They must be Wugang’s soldiers.”

“They could be Wenzhi’s. Another trap.” His voice was edged with suspicion.

I shook my head. The feather would have been a great temptation, yet when I had emerged from the grove, weakened and hurt, Wenzhi could have seized it with ease. I did not know what lay in his heart, but it was not treachery—at least, not anymore.

As our cloud swept higher, a force struck from behind, yanking us to an abrupt halt. I staggered, catching my balance as our cloud was reeled back like a fish caught on a hook. We were harnessed. Trapped. I spun to find Wugang’s undead soldiers upon our trail, six of them—vacant-eyed, yet set with deadly purpose. Ominously silent, their lips sealed shut. Their armor gleamed gold and white, their translucent skin almost silver, the luminous web of veins on their faces aglow in the awakening dawn.

Had Wugang learned of the feather? No, else he would have sent his entire army to retrieve it. Not even the dragons had been aware of its existence, just the empress—for she, alone, had been close to the Sun Goddess. This must be one of the patrols sent to comb the skies for us, as Wugang would be searching for my mother.

The soldiers soared toward us, pale hollows shining in their eye sockets like twin lanterns. As they raised their hands in unison, their guandao thrust in our direction—light crackled from their blades, leaping across the sky to strike our cloud.

As it shuddered violently, fire erupted from Liwei’s palms, coiling around one of the soldiers. Yet the creature did not scorch and break as on the beach. A white glow pulsed through its skin, healing its injuries—as the remaining soldiers slashed through Liwei’s flames like ribbons. Drawing my bow, I released an arrow at a soldier, a bolt of Sky-fire plunging into the disc on its chest. The soldier stumbled back from the force, yet the jade did not fracture. Had it been reinforced? I shot another arrow after it, but a shield sprang up around the soldiers, holding fast against my blow.

“They’ve learned to defend themselves. They’ve learned to help each other,” Liwei said, his voice strained.

My gaze fixed upon the nearing soldiers, my skin crawling at the sight of the guandao in their hands, agleam with malevolent power. In a moment, they would be upon us. “Then we must strike hard, all at once,” I said.

Fire blazed from Liwei’s palms, arcing toward the soldiers, churning above like a flaming cloud. The soldiers’ heads swung up in unison, their faces blank with a chilling detachment. A shiver rippled across my skin, but I forced my hands to steady, releasing an arrow at Liwei’s flames. Sky-fire stuck, splintering the seething mass, cascading over the soldiers in a fiery torrent. The air reeked with an acrid bitterness, of scorched flesh and skin—if they were made of such things. Yet the soldiers did not utter a sound as pale wounds bloomed upon their bodies like mold upon rotted fruit.

Liwei drew his sword, slashing at the unseen tethers that bound our cloud. As their hold snapped, our cloud shot into the skies. Magic coursed from our fingers, channeling a wind to spur us onward. Our robes fluttered wildly, my hair whipped free from its coils. I glanced behind to find the soldiers standing just where we had left them, an eerie light suffusing their bodies—already regenerating.

My gut twisted. They were the perfect weapon: tireless and fearless, swift and strong. An army of them would cut through the realms like a scythe through barley. We had escaped this time, but what of the next? What if there was nowhere left to run?

We soared swiftly southward, above the lush forests of the Phoenix Kingdom, staying far from the borders of the Celestial Kingdom. Finally, the sands of the Golden Desert glittered on the horizon. A tall figure was flying toward us upon a violet-gray cloud.

“I sensed your presence,” Wenzhi said as he drew nearer. “Why are you here?”

“Wugang’s soldiers found us. They’ve grown stronger; we barely escaped,” I told him.

“They won’t be able to enter the Cloud Wall,” he assured me. “We have ways of keeping out unwanted guests.”

“Whatever they are, they might not work on Wugang’s soldiers,” Liwei warned.

“Perhaps,” Wenzhi agreed, his forehead furrowed. “Let’s hope Wugang has no desire to test us for now. He has enemies aplenty throughout the rest of the Immortal Realm.”

“Did you speak to your father? Will he help us?” I asked him.

His eyes were the shade of a storm-tossed sea. “There is a price to his aid.”

I should not have been surprised. It seemed to be the way of kings and queens—those who possessed the most, unwilling to relinquish anything without advantage.

“What does he want?” I asked warily.

Wenzhi’s gaze pinned mine, his voice deepening with intensity. “Xingyin, I tried everything I could to get my father to change his mind.”

Dread gaped within me. “What do you mean?”

“My father will give us the scroll … as a wedding gift.”

The scent of sandalwood clung to the air, wafting from the bronze incense burners scattered around the room. Rows of silk lanterns, strung from the ceilings, cast their fiery glow upon the obsidian walls. All around, the guests lounged on brocade cushions as they sipped from gilded porcelain cups. Small plates of food were laid before them on low mahogany tables: steamed dumplings topped with glistening crab roe, thin slices of roast pork drizzled with a ginger and scallion sauce, delicate spring rolls fried to a golden crisp.

The Cloud Wall immortals seemed to favor vivid colors, clad in jewel tones of amethyst and emerald, ruby and aquamarine. I must have appeared a drab flower among them, though the palace attendants had offered me a dazzling array of garments. In no mood for gaiety, I had chosen the most somber outfit I could find—a green silk so pale, it bordered on gray. Yellow chrysanthemums were embroidered on the skirt, nodding their heads as though tossed by the wind that swirled through in silver curls of thread. My neck and wrists were unadorned, my hair pulled through a plain band of silk, the long ends brushing my back.