How smoothly he lied, I realized with a twinge in my chest. But I was no longer so easily deceived.
The moment he left, I rushed to the doors. They were crafted from ebony with a solid panel of wood at the bottom, the top half latticed in a pattern of interlocking circles, lined with white silk. I crouched low to hide my silhouette from the other side.
Wenzhi’s voice reached my ears, low and muffled. “Double the guard. Should anything unexpected happen or if she tries to escape again, inform me at once.”
Armor clinked, perhaps the soldiers bowing. The thought of having my guard doubled infuriated me. How would I ever escape now? Bunching up my long skirt, I sank onto the floor. The marble was hard and cold, but perhaps I might hear something of import.
I must have sat there for hours, with my back pressed against the doors—until my neck ached and my legs were cramped. Twice I leapt to my feet and rushed away at the creak of wood. The sun sank lower, my room falling deeper into shadow. Yet I had learned nothing beyond the favorite meals of my guards, their family histories, the immortals they fancied. With a sigh, I rose to pace the floor, trying to settle the ceaseless churning in my gut.
By the window, I paused. Over a thousand soldiers had gathered below, their black armor gleaming like an ocean of night. Wenzhi stood upon a dais in front of them, addressing the troops as he usually did before an impending confrontation—though it sickened me to think he was now plotting against those he had fought alongside before. I strained to listen, but nothing slipped through the barrier, not even the sigh of the breeze which glided through it. I pounded the shield until my fists were sore. If only I could hear what he was saying, it would answer the questions searing my mind.
Below, a group of soldiers stepped forward. When Wenzhi nodded, they raised their hands. The air glittered with magic as a stretch of violet cloud morphed to golden sand.
Why? I pressed closer against the barrier, but the soldiers dispersed soon after. An uneasiness settled over me like I was standing on a rickety bridge that might give way any moment, dropping me into the gorge. Night had fallen, so I extinguished the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Perhaps the soldiers might be less guarded if they believed I was asleep.
I returned to my place by the doors, sinking down and wrapping my arms around my knees. A confrontation was looming, I was sure of it. But when? How was the Celestial Army involved? And why did they transform the clouds to sand?
Footsteps thudded outside. Armor clinked.
“His Highness requests a report.” A woman’s voice this time.
She spoke so softly I had to close my eyes, straining to hear. Just as I had done when shooting blindfolded in the peach blossom forest.
“No trouble. She was quiet today and went to bed early. Maybe she’s finally coming around.”
Someone laughed. I clenched my jaws at the mocking sound.
“Captain Mengqi, we missed His Highness’s address,” another said in a respectful tone. “Do you have any news for us?”
My ears pricked up. A captain? She might be better informed.
“Our sources tell us the Celestial Crown Prince will join the army tomorrow. They will march the day after, at dawn.”
Liwei was coming here? Why? My soaring hope plunged into fear as I wondered, what would Wenzhi do? Somehow, he would twist this to his advantage. Which meant . . . this was a trap and I, its bait.
Someone cleared his throat. “Is everything in order?” he asked, a little nervously.
“The moment they cross the border, our victory is sealed.” Her voice throbbed with satisfaction, as grunts of approval met her words.
Shortly after, Captain Mengqi left. As her footsteps faded to silence, I slumped against the wall, fighting down a burst of panic. Why was the Celestial Army here? It could not be for me—the emperor would never lift a finger in my defense, especially not after the lies Wenzhi had spread. They must be here for the pearls. But why would they come, alone, without even gathering their allies? Surely, they did not mean to attack and break the truce—not for a war they were not ready for, one they did not want. More than Wenzhi’s claim, I sensed the truth in this. In the Celestial Army, there seemed to be little appetite to engage with the Demon Realm again. Soldiers did not speak of the past confrontation with triumph, but in hushed voices, sunken with dread. They had gone to battle expecting a quick victory, only to limp back with a frail truce.
No, the Celestials would not cross the border. Liwei would never be so rash, not even if he were provoked. I had studied with him; I knew his mind. Reckless loss of life was not something he would accept. Was this a decoy, to distract the Demon Realm while they searched for the pearls? But Wenzhi must realize the Celestial Army did not intend to invade, he had said as much earlier. What could he be planning? With the pearls in his possession, Wenzhi controlled the dragons. It was in his greatest advantage to force a confrontation now, close to his homeland. Yet if they attacked the Celestials without cause, the rest of the Immortal Realm would rise against them.