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“We are a matched pair,” Wenzhi remarked from beside me, a small smile on his lips.

“We are not.” I was in no mood to be agreeable. My insides knotted from being here, a place I never imagined I would return to. The incense fragrance clogged my nostrils, the dark walls seeming to close in tighter—unsettling memories surfacing that I clung to, reminding myself to never lower my guard.

“I meant our clothes are matched,” Wenzhi said, his smile widening.

He had changed, too, into a high-collared moss-green robe, a pattern of leaves embroidered along the hem in gold thread. The color highlighted the angular planes of his face, the darker hue of his skin. As my heart quickened, I crushed the treacherous impulse.

I was not here upon a whim. We needed King Wenming’s aid, and I hoped to sway him from his outrageous condition. I had not come to play the role of a docile daughter-in-law. I would be a thorn, a viper, the falcon Wenzhi had likened me to once.

King Wenming sat on an ebony throne upon the dais, his back straight, his gaze alert and assessing. An ornate gold crown rested on his head, fringed with amethyst beads that fell over his brow. His robes were a muted ash, in startling contrast to the brilliant garments of the three women who stood behind him, their exquisite robes of vermilion, coral, and lapis studded with pearls.

Wenzhi led me to a low table in the front. As we sat upon the flat brocade cushions, my eyes darted around the room yet always returned to the dais. According to rumor, King Wenming had no queen but numerous wives, and I assumed the three present were the most favored.

“My mother is the Noble Consort of the third rank, the one dressed in coral. While the Virtuous Consort of the first rank is Wenshuang’s mother,” Wenzhi explained as he lifted the porcelain jug and filled our cups with wine. “Having multiple consorts is as common here as in the Celestial Kingdom.”

“Why settle for one when there are so many?” My question emerged in a more biting tone than intended. It did not seem fair; so many attending to just one, whether queen or king—unless it was by choice. For if not, this jostle for affection and position was an unenviable situation.

Wenzhi’s fingers toyed with the rim of his cup. “There might be a field of flowers, yet all I need is one.”

“Some flowers have thorns,” I said coldly. “If you pluck them, you will get pricked.”

His gaze flicked to mine. “Those are the most precious of all.”

I ignored the leap in my pulse, shifting my attention back to the dais. As a shadow fell over us, I looked up into a pair of yellow eyes, as bright as a serpent’s. Prince Wenshuang. Something hot and bitter crowded the back of my throat, my stomach churning violently. The memory of how he had pressed his body against mine rushed over me, of his foul breath against my neck. My hands reached instinctively for a weapon I did not have, before clenching helplessly in my lap.

Prince Wenshuang’s brocade robe glittered with amethysts, his hair tucked into a gold headpiece. Ornate rings encircled his fingers, the same ones he had slammed against my cheek and ground into my flesh. Panic crested, but I forced it back. I would not cower from him; he should run. He had hurt me when I was weak and vulnerable, and I had beaten him nonetheless.

“Our sparrow has returned,” he sneered. “Did you miss my company?”

My hand itched to strike his face. Instead, I raked him with a look of scorn. “The carcass of a rat would be better company than you.”

Prince Wenshuang’s skin mottled with rage. “I could have you flayed for that.”

“Try it. Just remember what I did to you without my powers.” My tone was hard, showing neither the revulsion nor fear he roused in me.

“Get lost, brother.” Wenzhi uncoiled to his full height, his voice thick with menace. “Do not forget what I did to you the last time—you’re only standing because of Father’s intervention. I warned you then and I’m warning you now, stay away if you value your life.”

Prince Wenshuang flinched as he stepped back. A fierce satisfaction coursed through me as he stalked away without another word.

“I should have protected you from him,” Wenzhi said.

“After I drugged you and left you for dead? How noble you are.” I spoke flippantly, trying to steady myself from the repulsive encounter.

He sighed as he extended his hand to me. “Only with you, Xingyin. I wish you did not evoke such inconvenient sentiments in me.” When I did not move, he added, “For the sake of appearances, if nothing else. My father believes we are to be wed.”

I nodded, placing my hand in his lightly, his fingers closing around mine. My breathing quickened as we approached the dais, the guards shifting to allow us to pass, though their watchful stares never left us. Following Wenzhi’s lead, I bowed to the king from my waist. This close, his aura swept over us, as slippery and opaque as a frozen pond. As I lifted my head, my eyes collided with his—almost white, with a shimmering iridescence like that of opals. The lines of his face were sharp, while his body was lean and long. Thin reddish streaks formed his lips, which curved into a humorless smile.

“You are welcome here, daughter of Chang’e and Houyi.”

His greeting was cordial and his voice silken, though my insides flinched at the sound. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

One of the women stepped forward—the Noble Consort, Wenzhi’s mother. Jade hairpins were tucked into the coils of her dark hair, strung with chains of coral that cascaded to her shoulders, the same vivid shade as her robe. Her round eyes were the rich brown of chestnuts, set in the oval of her face. Despite the delicacy of her features, a quiet strength emanated from her.

Wenzhi bowed to her, his voice warmer than when he had addressed his father. “Mother, you look well tonight.”

She beamed at him, radiant in her joy. “Thank you, my son. I am glad you are here. The Virtuous Consort said you would not come.” Wenzhi’s mother glanced at the vermilion-clad lady behind her whose mouth was curled into a sneer.

I kept my expression calm as Wenzhi gestured toward me. “This is Xingyin.”