His sigh was heavy, cloaked in regret. “Take your time to think things through. Either way, you’ll not leave here.” He strode to the doors and tugged them apart. “It’s useless to try to escape. If you persist in acting the fool, I’ll have no choice but to treat you as one.”
The doors closed after him. My anger roiling over, I snatched his cup and hurled it at the wall, the delicate porcelain shattering into countless fragments—impossible to ever be made whole again.
32
Despite his warning, I tried to escape. I had to. But the windows were sealed and the doors firmly locked. I barged through them once, when an attendant brought me my meal—only to crash into the guards outside. Unfortunately, they were seasoned veterans, not green soldiers I might catch unaware. I fought them with all my might, but they subdued me easily, tossing me back into my room.
Slumping onto the stool, my fingers drummed the table in an incessant rhythm. How could I get out of this accursed place? How could I retrieve the pearls? And my mother . . . my hope of freeing her had dwindled to a desperate fantasy, just as when I had served in the Golden Lotus Mansion. In one stroke, Wenzhi had ripped my dreams apart, along with my heart. My nails dug into the table, prying loose thin slivers of wood.
An ache clawed at me, sharp and relentless, just when I believed myself numbed from his betrayal. My mind drifted to our time together—the memories pained me, but I was in no mood to be kind to myself. I thought back on all he had said and done: his insistence that we keep the Jade Dragon Bow secret, his midnight walk at Shadow Peak, brushing off my interest in the Eastern Sea library. Nothing glaring by itself, yet taken together, they formed a more sinister whole. Even his reticence in speaking of himself should have served as a warning, to me more than anyone. But I had been so wrapped up in my own emotions, ambitions, and desires, that I was oblivious to all else. My vanity was at fault, too—I could not deny being dazzled by his reputation and flattered by his attention. I had wanted him to be honorable, someone I could trust, and so I had cast everything he did into that light. He had deceived me, but I had let him. If only I had heeded Teacher Daoming’s warning, that a clouded mind would lead to disaster. And now, it was too late.
The doors slid open. I shot to my feet, scanning the room for anything I could use as a weapon. Since the last time, Wenzhi had ordered the removal of all the hairpins. I could have subdued an attendant with my hands, but after my attempt to flee, it was now the soldiers who brought me my meals.
It wasn’t a guard. Wenzhi strode in, his indigo brocade robe swirling around his feet. A cloth belt studded with amber was fastened around his waist. Upon his hair rested a crown of white jade, set with a glowing emerald. My eyes narrowed at the sight of it, the price of his honor.
I sat back down, refusing to acknowledge his presence. Instinctively, my fingers clawed at the metal around my wrists. No matter how I yanked at them, or slammed them against the walls, they remained intact—although my skin was bruised and scraped raw.
As his gaze fixed upon my arms, I tucked them behind me. He stalked forward and pulled them out. A soothing coolness seeped into me from his touch, as the marks on my skin vanished.
I jerked free of his hold. I did not thank him. I did not look at him.
He sat down across from me. “Don’t harm yourself again. My patience is not boundless.”
I swung to him, my voice thick with venom. “What else will you do? Beyond capturing me, sealing my magic, and stealing my possessions?”
The gem in his crown flared brighter, perhaps channeling his ire. Yet his expression remained inscrutable as he leaned toward me. “What can I do to put you at ease?” he asked, as though he were a gracious host and I, his honored guest.
I lifted my shackled wrists to him.
A corner of his mouth curved up. “I’m afraid not. At least not until you come to your senses.”
“I have come to my senses,” I shot back. “Now that I see you for what you are: a liar and a thief.”
He drew away, his expression shuttering. If he was wounded by my words, I was glad for it.
“Something occurred to me,” I said. “You, a Demon Prince, deceived the Celestial Emperor. You infiltrated the Celestial Kingdom, the closest circles of their court, and spied upon them. Does that not violate your truce? Surely the Celestial Kingdom’s allies will rise with them against you.”
He shrugged, showing none of the concern I had hoped for. “One might argue that I served them well. At least while I was theirs to command.”