Even in the Celestial Kingdom such decadence was rare. The richly dressed guests greeted each other effusively, flushed with excitement and wine. I had only just arrived and already, I was lost in this sea of strangers.
Someone tapped my shoulder. It was General Jianyun, for once without his armor, a long coat of silver brocade draped over his gray robe. I cupped my hands and bowed, relieved to see someone I knew.
“Is this your first banquet?” he asked.
“Yes. His Highness invited me tonight.”
A brief silence followed. “Well? Have you given any thought to my offer?” he asked bluntly.
My eyes fixed onto a jade tile as I fumbled for an answer. Oh, I would have snatched at this opportunity before. But now, a new fear pulsed through me at the thought of being separated from Liwei—for weeks, maybe months at a stretch. It was not that he had displaced my mother . . . but rather my heart was cleaved in two, when once it had been whole. I would do it, I knew I would—yet selfishly, I wanted a little more time here. Our love was too new, too precious to risk lightly.
I would speak to Liwei tonight, I resolved. After the festivities, I would tell him what I could without revealing my mother’s name. He would understand, he would not press me for more. And perhaps, together, we would find our way.
“General Jianyun, perhaps we should not talk of such matters on His Highness’s birthday.” I hoped he would allow me this delay.
His brows bunched with displeasure, but he nodded as he glanced around the crowded room. “Do you recognize any of these peacocks here?”
A strangled laugh burst from my throat, which I attempted to disguise with a cough.
“I’ve been in the army too long. I don’t flatter or say things I don’t mean. Take my word for it, this lot of courtiers are only good for dressing in fine feathers and chirping empty compliments.”
General Jianyun’s lip curled with distaste as he jerked his head at a man in front of us. “That one though, is more of a cunning crow. The emperor’s loyal advisor, yet his advice is often self-serving.”
It was rare for General Jianyun to speak so disparagingly of another, and I wondered who had earned his contempt. I could not see the man’s face, just his fine purple robe and the pale gloves that covered his hands—an uncommon accessory which struck me at once. It was Minister Wu, who swung around as though sensing our eyes upon him. He ignored me, his lips pinched as he bowed to General Jianyun. The sight of the minister turned my stomach, stirring anew old misery and terror.
So wrapped up was I in my thoughts, I almost collided into the tall immortal who stopped before us, the embroidered bamboo leaves on his robe rustling in emerald silk. A gray sash was tied around his waist, his hair pulled into a glossy topknot secured with an ebony pin. His aura rushed over me; cool and fresh, yet dense and strong. Like an autumn wind thick with crushed leaves and rain. His black eyes swept over me with little interest before he greeted General Jianyun, cupping his hands together and stretching them out as he bowed.
The stranger drew the general aside, which gave me the opportunity to study him further. He carried himself with the assurance of authority, yet he appeared not much older than I—unless he was one of those powerful immortals, concealing a thousand years with his lifeforce. His face was arresting; high cheekbones with a strong jaw and a well-formed, if somewhat stern mouth. I did not recall seeing him at the training field, but I doubted he was a courtier from the way his eyes flicked impatiently around the room as though such gaiety bored him.
I took a step forward, intending to excuse myself. There was little enjoyment in being excluded, relegated to no more than a piece of furniture, though navigating this crowd alone daunted me, too.
General Jianyun started as though he had forgotten my presence. “Ah, Xingyin. Have you met Captain Wenzhi?”
The celebrated commander? One of the finest warriors in the kingdom, despite being just a hundred years older than me? Yet before I could greet him, he turned away abruptly as though eager for me to be gone. He was insufferable, I decided, biting down on my tongue. Trying not to let his discourtesy bother me, even as I was furious with myself for ever having wanted to meet him.
“Xingyin is the Crown Prince’s companion,” added General Jianyun.
The arrogant young captain swung to me then, his face alight with sudden interest. “The one who trains with His Highness? The archer?”
“Yes,” I replied curtly, still stung by his earlier rudeness.
“I only returned a few days ago. I saw you yesterday, in the field, when you shot those discs. I’ve never seen such fine marksmanship before.” A smile hovered on his lips.