Somehow, I found the strength to say the words that needed to be said. The ones which would set him free, the ones which would break my heart. “I understand. I do. But I must leave.”
“You don’t have to. I’ll always have a place for you here.” He reached for me, but then drew back at the last moment, his fingers folding into a fist.
I would not be indebted to him further, even though some might think this was my due, now that he had broken his faith with me. But I would not weigh the shards of our love in favors. Grasping the threads of my dignity, I shrouded myself in indifference.
“What place can you offer me? As one of your attendants? Someone to play with your future children? A companion to your wife?” My laugh was jagged and hard. “I want more of life.”
It was his turn to look away. “Where will you go? I’ll help you find another position. Anywhere you wish.”
“No,” I said quickly, too quickly. It would have been so easy to accept, to let him ease my path. A fierce gladness clutched at me that I was not forced to accept his kindness. That I had won a position through my own merit, not his favor. I would be beholden to no one. My path forward was clear, I had no reason to delay. Perhaps being in the army would help me forget all which had transpired here. Perhaps starting anew would give me the chance to heal.
I pulled the hairpin from my hair and offered it to him, the clear stones glittering as they caught the light. When he did not take it, I placed it on the table. My fingers moved stiffly to the Sky Drop Tassel by my waist, but I hesitated. This, I would keep as a remembrance. It was a gift of friendship and no matter what, he was my friend still.
A crushing weight fell over me, sapping the strength from my limbs. Maybe it was knowing that when I left this room, I would never return. That our time had come to an end. I thought bitterly, I should be accustomed by now to tearing myself away from those I loved.
Rising to my feet, I cupped my hands together and swept him a low bow. “Your Highness, it was an honor to serve you.”
Memories of our time together flashed before my mind: our years of friendship, our few stolen days of love. Then the candle flame flickered, struggling for its final seconds of life before curling into a wisp of smoke . . . the room now enveloped in darkness.
Part II
14
The fire crackled, sparks shooting in the air. I did not flinch from where I sat on the ground, sanding the shaft of my arrows to make them leaner. Faster. The work was not necessary but it kept my hands busy and my mind, silent. A corner of my mouth tilted into a mocking smile. Just a few months ago I had been studying in the Chamber of Reflection, and now I was preparing my arrows to slay a monster.
Xiangliu, the nine-headed serpent, had fled the Immortal Realm to the world below. It plagued the nearby villages, flooding their rivers and snatching up victims to feed its insatiable appetite. While mortal warriors had long tried to bring this creature down, they were no match for its strength and cunning. I wondered why the Celestial Emperor had waited till now to send his forces, just as he let the sunbirds roam unchecked for so long. I did not think it was a conscious cruelty, but rather the detached triviality with which a mortal might view the life of an insect, unable to comprehend its suffering. It wasn’t only the emperor; many immortals shared this view. Perhaps I might have been like them if mortal blood did not run in my veins. If my thoughts of my mother and father were not entwined with this place.
I stared at the mountain that rose from the ground. Shadow Peak, this place was called. In the fading light, the dark rock glistened as though coated in a layer of grease. This was nothing like how I imagined the Mortal Realm would be when I had gazed from above. No glowing lanterns, no laughing children, not even a single tree to adorn the barren land. Just a tautness in the air akin to the moment a storm breaks.
I shifted on the ground, the metal pressing against my shoulders and ribs. Shuxiao had not exaggerated its weight. It struck me as a bad joke that I was now clad in the same armor which had roused such fear in me before. But this was my choice.
I thought back to the night I had left the Courtyard of Eternal Tranquility. Determined not to delay any longer, I had sought out General Jianyun and accepted his offer to join the Celestial Army.
“Excellent.” He had smiled then, a rare occurrence. “Have you informed His Highness? He should—”
“He knows.” My nerves had been too frayed to traverse the winding path of courtesy. I bowed to him again, hoping the gesture would take the sting from my next words. “General Jianyun, I thank you for this opportunity, but I have a few terms.”