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“If we are to risk defying Wugang, we must be well positioned to share in the spoils of victory after,” the king declared. “Not to be discarded after our usefulness is gone. The Dragon Lord was revered throughout the kingdoms. Now he has returned, a union with your family would benefit us greatly.”

“Father, I’ve told you I do not want this,” Wenzhi said adamantly. “Not this way.”

The intensity of his tone caught at me. Despite his assurances, a part of me had wondered if this had been his plan. He always played to win, bending the rules in his favor … however, this was no act.

“Don’t deny that you want her.” The king’s words slithered around us like the coils of a snake. “This is how you hold a throne; this is how you seize what you want. I thought you understood, which is why I named you heir. I forgave you for losing the dragons’ pearls, but do not disappoint me again.” Menace coated his tone as he added, “Don’t forget, I have another son.”

“Never,” I spat, my stomach lurching at the thought.

The king leaned back against his throne, his eyes glinting like shards of ice. “There are ways to secure your cooperation.”

I recoiled at the reminder of what he had done to me a moment earlier. Wenzhi had promised to never use such magic on me, but his father possessed no such scruples.

Wenzhi’s eyes widened with a silent plea for my trust before he bowed to the throne. “Father, thank you for your wisdom. We accept your decision.”

I did not wholly trust him, yet there was no choice. If I refused, the king would either cast his lot in with Wugang or force me into marriage with Prince Wenshuang—a fate worse than death.

Victory in his grasp, King Wenming accepted a cup of wine from the Virtuous Consort, lifting it in a toast. “The wedding will be in three days.”

“No.” I grasped wildly for a way out. “We must move on Wugang now. The wedding can be held after.”

“You do not get to decide this. Learn your place if you wish my favor. Be careful,” the king added, “lest three days become one.”

I held my tongue, inclining my head in seeming acquiescence—even as despair flooded me like I had been swept into waters too deep, and could no longer feel the ground with my feet.

I will not do it,” I told Wenzhi, the moment we entered my room. Fortunately, it was not the same chamber I had been locked in before, this one furnished in mahogany and rose brocade, with ink washed paintings of mountains hanging from the walls.

Wenzhi shut the door behind him. “Xingyin, I know you do not want to marry me. Despite my feelings, I have enough pride that I won’t force you into a union.” A wry smile broke across his lips. “I’m certain you would make my life an unpleasant hell if I did.”

I breathed out, a little of my tension easing—though something picked at me still. Was it resentment, to have been forced into this predicament? Anxiety for what lay ahead? Pulling out a stool, I sank onto it, my head beginning to pound. The king demanded that we wed, but I had no intention of obeying him. Yet if I refused, he would not aid us. Meanwhile, Wugang was hunting my mother, and soon, his gaze would turn toward the Eastern Sea. The Immortal Realm teetered on the brink of destruction, and our paths were closing rapidly.

“Do you think your father will ally with Wugang, or is it an empty threat?” I asked.

“My father is no fool. The pretense of an alliance will suffice to keep us safe, for now.” He paused. “Father is playing a double game, the type he plays best. Keeping Wugang at bay with hollow promises while working to advance his own ends.”

“Why won’t Wugang attack you?”

“Because he would rather have an ally than another enemy,” Wenzhi said. “The Celestial Kingdom knows better than to underestimate our abilities again; they do not understand our magic. Moreover, our wards protect this place. While Wugang’s soldiers might not possess a consciousness of their own, something exists that enables them to accept his commands—which we might be able to harness, should the need arise.”

I searched his face. “Why is your father set upon this marriage? Surely there are more suitable candidates out there?”

“Few kingdoms in the Immortal Realm would consider a betrothal with us, a circumstance I am glad for,” he said with feeling. “Like it or not, Xingyin, this would be a powerful alliance for us—one which would be mutually beneficial.” He added quietly, “One which could be happy.”

His words reached deeper than I wished—a temptation to accept the aid offered, the easier path. Yet beyond our fractured past, I would hate being bartered in marriage; I would never give such an accursed union a chance. I now understood the strain Liwei had been under when he agreed to the betrothal with Princess Fengmei, and why he was adamant on refusing it this time. I would not marry Wenzhi; I would not be a pawn for the king’s twisted machinations. This was my life—and it was love, or even the promise of it, that gave it meaning.

“Can we delay the wedding, or try to reason with your father again?” My imagination soared. “Disguise someone else to complete the ceremony?”

Wenzhi’s expression shuttered as he leaned against the door. “Once my father’s mind is made up, he will not relent. And I will not bind myself to some stranger, not even for you.”

“That was thoughtless of me,” I admitted, even as my mind still sought a way out. “Could you perform the enchantment instead of your father?”

“Yes, if I study it,” he replied. “But the greater problem is how we might obtain the scroll. I must tread carefully. If I jeopardize my position, my mother will be left to the mercy of the other consorts. The Virtuous Consort has grown spiteful with the displacement of her son as heir. She would seek any opportunity to harm us.”

In a family as venomous as his, the safest place was on top. It was why Wenzhi had gone to such lengths to secure his position. Why should he pit himself against his father, risking it all? I, myself, was reluctant to sacrifice anything so precious on my part—whether my mother, my freedom, or my love.

Yet what if there was no choice? Could I let my mother face Wugang alone and defenseless? Could I do nothing as Wugang unleashed his soldiers? No. Never. I was not so heartless, nor reckless enough to risk the fate of the realm. As my resolve wavered, I rebuked myself. There must be another way. If I kept thinking there was none, I would stop searching—and then failure would surely follow.

“What if I steal it?” I offered, as desperate as a fisherman down to his last bait.