“After all our time together, did I have a choice?”
I laid my palm against his chest, in no mood for flippancy. “Are you serious?”
The light in his eyes blazed a path to my heart, as his hand reached out to capture mine. “Yes.”
As a child, my mother had cautioned me against looking directly at the sun, telling me the brightness of its glare could blind me. Perhaps it was something her own mother had told her. While it might be true for mortals, I now doubted such a thing could harm an immortal’s sight. Still, her warning stuck—whenever I saw the fiery orb in the sky I would instinctively turn or shield myself. Today, I had finally dared to gaze at the sun, allowing its radiance to blaze through me unhindered, spilling through my veins until I was aglow. Never did I imagine such luminous joy existed, and never again would I be content to remain in the shadows.
After the downpour, the sky was clear once more. Liwei summoned a cloud to take us home, and on the way, we dried our clothes. Had we returned in our sodden state, we would have given rise to prying questions and unwanted gossip. As we flew back to the Jade Palace, my spirits were lighter than the clouds we passed.
In my room, I sank onto my bed in a dreamlike daze. Rest was far from my mind as the exhilaration coursing through me smothered all hope of sleep. When someone knocked, I opened the doors to find an attendant holding out a roll of paper, bound with silk cord.
“His Highness asked me to give this to you.”
As I took the paper and thanked him, he added, “Someone is waiting for His Highness outside.”
Wondering who it might be, I entered the courtyard to find a girl sitting in the pavilion. Her aura was warm and light, though it pulsed with strength, too. She was startlingly pretty with slender, upturned eyes in a heart-shaped face, and delicate features. Rose silk draped her tall frame, and her dark hair was held up by gold hairpins from which strands of rubies cascaded, glowing with inner flame. I bowed to her in greeting. Was she a courtier’s daughter, or one of the empress’s favored ladies?
“Is Prince Liwei here?” Her voice was gentle and sweet.
A sliver of unease pricked my heart, but I gave her a pleasant smile. “His Highness is with Their Celestial Majesties.” As her shoulders drooped, I added, “Is there anything I can help you with?”
“I have a gift for His Highness, but I can give it to him later.” The girl glanced down at the half-finished painting of a peach blossom tree on the table. A few brushes were soaking in a pitcher of water and a porcelain tray lay beside it, still wet with paint. Liwei must have worked on this just a short while ago.
“Is this Prince Liwei’s work?” She traced the outline of the branches. “It’s beautiful.”
“His Highness has many skills,” I said.
As she rose to leave, her elbow knocked over a paintbrush. Dark green paint splattered across the artwork.
She gasped as she pulled out a silk handkerchief, dabbing furiously at the paper. I rushed forward to help her, jostling the pitcher. It tipped over, water spilling onto the table, soaking the artwork in moments. Of the once exquisitely painted tree, only dark green smudges could be seen in the sodden mess.
Her fingers twisted her handkerchief into knots, her throat working with words she did not speak.
“It might have been the wind,” I said solemnly.
She blinked at me. “Or a bird,” she agreed quickly.
Our eyes met in a profound moment of understanding. Shortly after, she left, turning around once to stare at the courtyard.
Back in my room, I unrolled the piece of paper from Liwei. It was a painting of me, standing beneath a flowering tree—an arrow drawn through my bow, poised in the moment before flight. My gaze was intent on the target, my mouth set in determination, my back straight and tall. My pulse quickened, to think he saw me this way—strong and, somehow, beautiful.
At the bottom of the paper, a message was written in his bold brushstrokes:
You may have won the challenge, but not the greatest prize.
A slow smile spread across my face at the memory of our earlier embrace. Taking a piece of paper, I dipped my brush in the ink and wrote my reply:
There are no prizes in the game of hearts.
My mother would have been pleased; my calligraphy had improved. Folding my note up, I dropped it into my pouch. I would find a fitting moment to give it to him tonight.
12
The Hall of Eastern Light had no ceiling, opening to the starlit sky. Its white stone walls were streaked with veins of pure gold, while the floor was paved with jade tiles carved into flowers. Glowing crystal pillars illuminated the room, as did the hundreds of silk lanterns strung between them in fiery shades of crimson and vermilion. The fragrance of rare blossoms perfumed the air, mingling with the delicious aromas from the food piled onto the rosewood tables. Coveted Immortal Peaches were stacked high on silver platters, to be distributed at the discretion of the Celestial Empress. Just one of these peaches, creamy ivory with a divine blush, had the power to strengthen an immortal’s lifeforce or prolong a mortal’s life.