My composure wavered as the emperor’s words echoed in my mind: Use whatever means necessary. Not a suggestion but a command.
“And you won’t be alone,” Wenzhi said, coming forward. How long had he been there? “I will go with you.”
It was not in my nature to lean upon another but, oh, how relieved I was to hear this. He was not vulnerable like Shuxiao; he would be leaving this place soon. More than that, we had fought together so many times, I was glad he would be with me for this.
Shuxiao sucked in a breath. Recovering herself, she bowed hastily to Wenzhi.
“Lieutenant, would you excuse us?” he asked. “I have something to discuss with Xingyin.”
She tilted her head at me in an unspoken question. I loved her for it, that she watched out for my needs first. Yet that was precisely why I could not risk her joining me, I could not risk her angering those who had the power to retaliate and hurt her.
“Shuxiao, I’ll be fine.”
“If you change your mind, I could tell General Jianyun I’m feeling ill for the next few days. Old fox spirit bite acting up, and all,” she added earnestly.
Wenzhi scowled. “Lieutenant, I hope you don’t make a practice of such irresponsible behavior.”
“No, Captain.” She bowed to him, again. “Only for special occasions.”
I stifled a laugh as she left, sobered by the thought of what lay ahead. Wenzhi and I walked in silence, entering a familiar garden surrounding a tranquil lake. Without warning, he took my arm and drew me across the wooden bridge into the Willow Song Pavilion. I cast aside those unwanted memories of all the times I had sat here with Liwei.
He released me then, turning to stare at the mirror-like surface of the water. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I closed my eyes, thinking of the night I had fled my home—stricken with grief and terror. The urgency in my mother’s voice as she had sworn me to secrecy. “I made a promise to my mother.”
“After all we’ve been through, don’t you trust me?”
“Of course, I do. But this was not a secret I could share on a whim. It would have endangered us all.” I reached out to touch his wrist. “Does it matter? I’m still who I’ve always been.”
He turned his hand around to clasp mine. “You’re right; it doesn’t matter. Though I wish you had told me before. Maybe I could have helped. Maybe I still can.”
It touched me, his unflinching acceptance of my past. His unwavering support. Until this moment, I had not been sure of it. I leaned against him, resting my head on his chest as his arm slid around my shoulders. The scent clinging to his skin was fresh and evergreen.
“I wanted to tell you. One day, when we were far from here.”
His heart thudded against my ear, quicker than before. “Does this change anything? Will you still come with me?”
“Yes.” A thrill coursed through me that now, there was neither hesitation nor doubt. “But I must help my mother first. I must fulfill the emperor’s task. Will you wait a little longer?”
Wenzhi’s arms tightened, holding me closer. “As long as you are mine as I am yours, we have all the time in the world.”
We stood, unmoving, until a prickling at the back of my neck roused me to recall where we were, in plain sight of anyone passing by. Pulling free, I twisted around. My gaze slammed into Liwei’s as he stood on the bridge, as still as one of its wooden columns. His eyes were wide, his hands fisted by his side. Something in me wrenched apart at the expression on his face—not guilt, but sadness, for the hurt I had inflicted.
With measured steps, Liwei entered the pavilion. “May I speak with you?” His manner was cold and formal, like I was a stranger, one of those courtiers he was always trying to avoid. When just days ago, we had defended each other with our lives. Was it always to be so with us: one step forward, and then three back? No, I told myself. We no longer walked together; our paths had diverged.
I nodded, even as my insides curled. More than to anyone, I owed him an explanation.
“I will come to you later,” Wenzhi said to me.
I thought he would leave then, but he took my hand in his again, sliding his thumb across my palm in a deliberate stroke. My pulse quickened and despite my mortification, I did not pull away. Wenzhi’s lips curved in the shadow of a smile as he released me. He bowed to Liwei, more a curt incline of his head, before striding away.
“I’m sorry,” I said haltingly to Liwei. Though I owed him more than this crude apology. For all that we were to each other, for our friendship alone, he had not deserved my dishonesty.