“Our meeting ended early.” He sounded strained. Hesitant, which was most unlike him. “Xingyin, there is something I must tell you.”
I clasped my hands in my lap, a chill spreading through me in anticipation of ill tidings.
He leaned toward me, his voice rough with sudden emotion. “I’ve resigned from the Celestial Army. This week will be my last. I have important family matters to attend to, far from here—and I don’t expect to return.” He spoke with deliberate measure, as though wanting to be sure I grasped his meaning.
“You’re leaving? To the Western Sea?” I managed to ask.
A terse nod. “My final assignment will be to inspect the troops at the border of the Golden Desert. They’ve been unsettled of late.”
My chest was so tight, I found it hard to breathe. Since the Eastern Sea, something had changed between us. My heart beat quicker at the sight of him and his smile warmed me like wine. Sometimes, I thought I caught a kindling in his eyes as he looked at me. We were circumspect in our interactions, never a touch or word beyond the bounds of propriety. Yet we had become more than friends, on the cusp of something entirely new and thrilling. Or had all this been my own delusions? I dropped my gaze to the floor, feeling oddly dismayed. Disappointed. Hurt, even? Though I had no right to be, guilt stabbing me at the memory of Liwei’s lips on mine.
Wenzhi was staring at me, as though waiting for my response to a question I had not heard, his voice finally infiltrating the haze of my misery.
“Will you come with me?”
“To . . . the border of the Golden Desert?” I stammered.
“That, too, if you wish,” he said gravely. “I meant, would you come with me when I leave?”
My tongue darted over my dry lips. “What do you mean?” I dared not mistake his intent.
A smile lit his face, it lit the very room.
“Don’t you know how I feel about you?” His voice shook, the first crack in his iron composure. “I could not speak before, but I’m free to now. I want you to come with me—to my home, to my family. For us to share our lives together.” He lowered his head to mine, our brows almost touching, his breath warm on my skin. “Your dreams will be my dreams, too.”
Joy coursed through me like the ripples on a pond after a burst of rain. I had thought I was done with love . . . its breathtaking beauty, its tumultuous agony. I had been happy before and believed I would be content again once I made my way home—to my true home, not this one here built upon a web of lies. Now, a future with Wenzhi beckoned, with clear skies and not a dark cloud on the horizon. One with no broken hearts or past entanglements. One where blood had not been spilled between our kin, our ties unsullied by hatred or past grudges—where I could be whole and free from guilt, remorse, and sorrow.
Only now did I dare to admit to myself, my fear that I had failed. That in my arrogance, I had miscalculated the worth of my talent, the value of my deeds. For despite my service to the Celestial Army, my hope of winning my mother’s freedom was fading away, like a silk painting left out too long in the sun. A pardon from the emperor was the surest way to securing her release. However, while my accomplishments had earned praise and gifts, which I’d declined, not even a whisper of the Crimson Lion Talisman had ever been uttered. I should have heeded General Jianyun’s warning, yet in my pride I believed I knew better. The emperor was not known for his generosity in dispensing such favors. Nor had anyone sentenced to eternal imprisonment ever been pardoned. So, perhaps it was time to seek a new path to help my mother. Perhaps I would find the way in Wenzhi’s homeland, in the Western Sea.
Wenzhi’s hand on my arm startled me now. He was still waiting for my reply, perhaps wondering at my prolonged silence. As I stared into his strong handsome face, something shifted in my chest. I cared for him, I know I did. My dismay at his leaving was proof of that. And was it not said that love would grow between well-matched minds, over the months and years? We had eternity before us.
“Is this what you want, too?” His tone was no longer uncertain but brimming with newfound confidence, as though he had already sensed my answer.
Yes. The word formed on my lips and yet I could not say it. Something tugged at the edge of my heart, a small voice within pleading with me to reconsider. I would have asked him for more time then, except the crunch of gravel startled us. Someone was running toward my room with undue haste, as Wenzhi threw the doors apart.
A young attendant halted in the entrance. “Captain Wenzhi,” he gasped. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you. Their Celestial Majesties have requested your immediate presence in the Hall of Eastern Light.”