“You know nothing,” Liwei bit out. “Xingyin, you must leave. Now.” He spoke the last words as a plea, urgency throbbing in his voice.
But if I left, he would die. Alone.
“Ah, Your Highness. It appears your reputation is not quite as honorable as we believed,” Lady Hualing sneered. “Dallying with a commoner whom you could never hope to marry. You are your father’s son indeed, plucking flowers for your own pleasure and discarding them once they wilt.”
She swung to me, her gaze intent and searching. “Do you know he is betrothed? To one of royal blood, with beauty, power, and charm. A prize he would risk his life to rescue—just as you are sacrificing yourself to save him.”
Each word about Princess Fengmei stabbed me, just as on the night of their betrothal. I had believed myself above such feelings, yet if they could be resurrected so easily . . . would I ever be free? A terrible thought slid into me, that there was some truth to her vicious words. That I had come here to save Liwei, but would accomplish nothing except my death. And if I died, what would happen to my mother? She would never learn of my miserable fate, whiling eternity away in her futile wait—first for my father, and then for me. Why did I sacrifice everything for the one who had broken with me, who perhaps never really loved me?
It was the gleam in her eyes that gave me pause. She had goaded me well, giving voice to my cruelest thoughts—those which taunted me in the deep of night. She wanted to make me jealous, to make me doubt my own worth. To allow hatred to slither in and sink its claws into my heart. I inhaled a deep breath, trying to gather myself. I needed to hold her interest, to gain time to strike or provoke her into rashness. I dared not have her attention return to Liwei again, and the vile things she had planned for him.
“Yes, we were together once,” I admitted haltingly. “Now His Highness and I have gone our separate ways.”
“Was it your choice, or his?” Her lips curved like she already knew the answer.
I looked away, her question cutting deeper than I expected.
“Life would be preferable without love,” Lady Hualing said with feeling, as though I were her trusted friend. As though we were of the same mind.
Her words resonated through me. Was closing one’s heart to love—all love—the only way to contentment? Had I not imagined so myself, during those long months of misery? Indeed, my darkest moments were when I had left my loved ones. And yet . . . the happiest times of my life had been with them, too. But I would not disagree with her. She seemed to believe there was a connection between us. Did she see a part of herself in me? I shuddered at the idea, although now I would tread cautiously, to cultivate this illusion to better catch her unaware.
“Perhaps you are right.” I said, letting a hardness edge my voice. “Love has not served me well.”
“Nor I.” Lady Hualing’s chest heaved. “I did not ask for the emperor’s love, but he beguiled me with false promises until I returned his affection. When I was hurt and frightened, I yearned for his comfort. He never came back. Because of him, I lost everything, even the happiness I had before. I would rather he had died than hurt me so. All I want now is to repay those who brought me low.”
I recoiled inwardly from the vehemence in her words. She had not uttered her curse in the heat of anger, but as a fervent wish wrung from the depths of her heart.
“They will never change their minds,” Lady Hualing continued, her tone low and intimate. “The Celestial royals are proud, cold and unyielding. Their love, once lost, can never be regained. Ask yourself, why do you do this? Just so he can cherish your memory after he marries his princess? Weep a tear over your grave? Such paltry thanks for so great a sacrifice. Don’t throw your life away.”
It hit me then, she believed our situations similar. That I, too, had been snared by a hopeless love; that I, too, had been cast aside—by the son of her cruel lover, no less. And that my actions were a desperate bid to regain what I had lost.
My teeth sank into my lip, biting down harder until a warmth of salt and iron gushed into my mouth. Like her, I had not sought love. My life had been full without it. Yet it had crept up on me, infiltrating my senses like a subtle scent—until I found beauty in a fallen blossom and delight in a thunderstorm. However, the joy it gave me, I repaid tenfold through my sorrow. Even when I believed my heart healed, the scars remained, reopening with no more than a touch from his hand.
Why did I do this? Her question echoed through me again. I had known the dangers when I followed Liwei’s trail here, but not once did I hesitate. My only thought had been to come to his aid. My only fear had been for his safety. But she was wrong; I was not trying to win him back. Was it for friendship, as I had told myself? Or out of honor, to repay the debt of his kindness? The answer eluded me as it lurked on the fringes of my mind.