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“The ceremony will begin,” a voice intoned formally, likely a high-ranking official or respected elder in the Cloud Wall. Whoever he was, I hoped Wenzhi had bribed him well.

“The first bow to Heaven and Earth,” the marriage official cried out.

As I folded over, the weight of my headdress dipped precariously forward. As I quickly raised myself, the official continued, “The second bow to the parents and ancestors.”

As we turned to King Wenming, I was glad for the veil to hide my strained expression as we bowed. I had made excuses for my own parents’ absence, for I would give the king no more weapons against me.

The official cleared his throat. “The final bow to each other,” he called out, with the barest quiver in his voice.

This was the act that would bind us together for eternity. I should have positioned myself to face Wenzhi, but something in me refused to move as though I had been transformed to stone. As the guests began to murmur at the delay, Wenzhi placed his hand over mine, his thumb brushing my palm.

“Trust me,” he whispered from under his breath.

I did not. At least, not wholly. Yet something in the intensity of his tone jolted me into movement, giving me the strength to turn toward him. This was not the time to waver. Through the veil, I made out the hem of his scarlet robe, the gleaming embroidery sewn on the cloth. His aura, so close to me, flared fierce and cool, steady and strong. As sweat slicked my hands, I fought the urge to wipe them on the priceless brocade of my skirt. I was trembling as befitted the image of a docile bride, as I bent my neck—

A gale burst through the pavilion, rustling silk and satin, the scents of azaleas and camellias springing into the air as the carpet of petals was swept high. Gasps broke out from the guests—some delighted, others surprised and irate. As my veil flared up, I caught a glimpse of the petals that rained down like a fragrant storm, brushing my bared skin with a feathery softness. One of the king’s consorts swept a fan before his face to shield him, which he pushed aside with an impatient wave. And then Wenzhi was already lifting his head as he rose with deliberate emphasis—while I let my veil fall back into place and straightened as though I was rising from a bow that I had not made.

The rite was unfinished, the ritual meaningless. We were not wed.

I steeled myself for cries of outrage, for a sharp command to complete the ceremony. Yet there was none. Somehow, it had worked, Liwei’s enchantment having bought us a precious moment of deception.

“The three bows are performed, the ceremony is complete. May the couple find everlasting happiness together,” the official called out eagerly. “Raise the veil.”

The satin covering was pulled gently from my face. I blinked against the sudden brightness, my eyes meeting Wenzhi’s, the pale hue of sunlight in winter.

An exuberant cheer broke out from the guests. The smile that lit my face was unfeigned, my fingers threaded through Wenzhi’s in a hollow pretense of a harmonious couple. Wenzhi led me toward the king, for once not surrounded by his guards, his consorts seated alongside him. Prince Wenshuang was absent, I was relieved to find—perhaps in a pique from our last confrontation.

The king’s gaze speared me. For a moment I feared he had seen through our ruse, but then he nodded to an attendant, who hurried to us holding out a tray with a gilded porcelain tea set emblazoned with the symbol 囍, representing the twin joys of newlyweds embarking on their life together. In our situation, it could not have been less apt.

Kneeling on the ground, I picked up the cup and offered it to the king with both hands as tradition dictated. He accepted it, bringing it to his lips though he did not drink. I waited for him to reach for the bridal gift as was customary—typically a piece of jewelry or something precious, except the only thing I wanted was what had been promised. Yet the scroll did not appear, nor did he speak, merely staring at me over the rim of his cup.

“Father.” I faltered over the word. “The ceremony is complete. May I have the scroll?”

The surrounding guests exchanged pointed looks of disapproval. They thought me ill bred. Mercenary. Unheard-of, for a bride to demand her gift, except what did I care for such courtesies when I had been coerced into this farce?

A deep chuckle rolled from the king’s throat. His eyes gleamed like he had gotten the better of me. “Why the rush, my dear daughter-in-law? There is still the banquet and then, the consummation. After that, I will perform the Divine Mirror Scroll on you whenever you wish.”

I lurched upright, a protest rising to my lips. Before I could speak, a sharp whistling sliced the air, hurtling past me to plunge into King Wenming. His body jerked violently, his eyes rounding in horror at the sight of the spear thrust clear through his chest, its pointed tip wet with blood.

Shock ripped through me, jagged and sharp. My gaze flew to Wenzhi, his face twisted with horror. Calling for the guards, he leapt to his feet, grabbing a sword from a nearby soldier as he raced in the direction of where the spear had been flung.

King Wenming’s hands flew up to clutch his wound, groping at the wooden shaft and tearing it from his body. It slid out with a sucking sound, the spear tip falling away, dissolving into a grayish, frothing liquid that seeped into his blood. The shaft fell from his hand, his fingers splayed limp. Around him, his consorts fluttered like frantic butterflies. Only the Noble Consort—Wenzhi’s mother—had the presence of mind to try to seal his wound, her magic pouring from her palms into his body. Yet his blood continued to spill from the gash, tinted with a dark sheen as though an ink-laden brush had been run through his veins.

King Wenming snarled, a bestial sound, his aura thickening with murderous intent. “Treachery,” he panted, between stuttering breaths. “You … and your accomplices.” As he pointed a trembling finger at me, a flash of violet light streaked from it, striking my temple.

Pain shot through me like a hundred needles stabbing my head in a merciless rhythm. I fell to my knees, ripping off my headdress, tearing at my hair—every nerve in my body afire, broken gasps tumbling from my mouth. Grasping wildly at my power, I flung up a shield to protect myself, wrenching away his tethers on my mind—just as I had seen Wenzhi do before. The king collapsed onto the ground, convulsing, his consorts weeping openly as they clustered around him.

The agony dispersed into merciful nothingness, though I could not stop shaking, the echoes of its torment reverberating through me. I drew a ragged breath and then another, until my muscles loosened, my strength flowing back to my limbs. A thought jarred me, that I should not have been able to throw off the king’s attack so easily. I had been clasped in its throes before, suffered his unyielding power … which meant the king was gravely weakened.

As someone shouted for the healers, a chilling laugh rose above the chaos. Prince Wenshuang. When had he arrived?

“It’s too late. The spear is charmed to drain his energy.” Prince Wenshuang spoke in a bored tone as he stared at his father, spasming in agony.

“You don’t have that kind of power.” Wenzhi stalked back into the pavilion, his body taut with rage.

A feral smile stretched across Prince Wenshuang’s face. “I am capable of far more than you can imagine.”

“Why Wenshuang?” the king gasped as he struggled to raise himself onto an elbow.