CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
I f hell exists, this is it.
I’m burning, lashed by seething agony, unable to think or scream as I curl over.
My fingers are locked on the seal, welded to it, the etchings searing like embers.
Smoke twists from the seal, winding around my arm.
As its grip tightens, a coldness spears my body.
A scream crowds my throat but I choke it down.
If the guards come in, if Prince Zixin wakes to find me trapped this way—he’ll take back my ring, he’ll lock me up.
More smoke pours from the seal, coalescing into a towering pillar.
Two points flare to life, like eyes, aglow with the harsh brightness of the starfire—akin to the head of some nightmarish serpent.
As I struggle to free myself, pain swells along my arm.
I’m not thinking of discovery anymore but of how to survive.
My resolve snaps. I open my mouth to scream—but then, my ring sears against my chest. I yank it out to find the six-petaled flower quivering, the band bathed in radiance.
My fingers are shaking too hard, fumbling the clasp on the chain.
Yet holding the ring calms me as its heat seeps through—it shimmers brighter, its light piercing the smoke to pry me loose.
I wrench my arm free, snatching at my dagger, slashing at the figure.
It rears back, writhing as holes are punctured in its shadowy form, tearing wider like it’s being ripped apart.
The smoke dissipates into fine wisps that slither back into the seal. I slump down on the ground, echoes of pain reverberating through me. Hard to imagine the time Mistress Henglan was the greatest monster I knew; my world was a lot safer before magic entered it.
I stare at my ring as the light fades from it, suppressing the urge to slide it over my finger where it belongs.
Not yet, not till I’m far from the Palace of Nine Hills, from the prince and the countless soldiers who obey his every command.
As I tuck the ring back into the folds of my robe, only then do I hear it: a soft cry slipping from the seal, the creature’s voice from the forge, thick with misery and suffering.
The Sun Dragon. My heart aches, my body stills.
In this moment, his pain is mine… and it is greater than the world.
Prince Zixin stirs, his eyes darting restlessly beneath their lids.
Whatever nightmares plague him can’t be worse than the one just unleashed on me.
My arm throbs, dark bruises blotting it like ink.
As my breathing steadies, I push myself up.
Careful not to touch the seal or the starfire again, I inspect the cords binding it to the prince’s waist, finding no knot or fastening.
I try sawing at the bindings with my dagger, but they don’t give way.
Some strange power welds the seal to the prince, guarding it from theft, even from my blade.
The etchings on the seal have gone dark, the carved chrysanthemum almost mournful with its drooping head.
There is only silence now—neither song nor cry—as though the magic that protects the seal also conceals the creature trapped within.
I want to help the dragon but dare not touch the seal again, to risk discovery when Prince Zixin might awaken soon.
As I leave his rooms, my spirits swing from high to low—I’ve failed to save the dragon, yet am lucky to have my ring, to be alive.
Outside, in his courtyard, the guards stare at me knowingly, their thoughts as plain as though spoken aloud.
My garments are disheveled, my face glossy with the sheen of sweat.
I touch my lips, the paint smeared, my hair hanging loose over my shoulders.
I look like I’ve spent the last few hours in bed—not fighting for my life.
I hold my chin higher. Let them look, let them judge. I won’t be ashamed of what I didn’t do. Yet I walk quickly, eager for the safety of my own quarters—for someplace I don’t have to pretend.
Jin is waiting in my room, sitting in the dark. Somehow, he’s slipped past the guards outside my courtyard. He rises as I enter, warmth surging through me at the sight of him.
I close the door, then light a candle. “You shouldn’t be here—”
“I couldn’t stay away.” His eyes comb me. “Are you hurt?”
“Just my arm.”
He draws my sleeve away, sucking in a breath at the sight of the swollen skin. At once he takes out a jar from his sleeve, rubbing the ointment over my wounds. It smells medicinal, like aloe and lavender—soothing my nerves, dulling the pain.
“Are you injured anywhere else?”
“No.” Yet I’m still trying to pick through the wounds that are forming within, the lies I’d spewed that clawed at my pride.
Jin’s mouth draws into a thin line. “I’ll kill him.”
“Prince Zixin didn’t hurt me,” I assure him at once. “The seal was protected by a spell. Smoke emerged when I touched it, forming some type of guardian. It attacked me, but I escaped. I heard the dragon’s cry. We have to save him.”
“We will. As for your ring—”
I pull out the chain clasped around my neck, my ring dangling from it.
“Prince Zixin gave it back to me.” My triumph feels hollow.
While I don’t care what the others believe about me, it matters what Jin thinks.
He’s sharp enough to realize the prince wouldn’t relinquish my ring without obtaining something else in return.
“Why do you think he gave it back to me?” I speak harshly, trying to conceal how vulnerable I feel.
“I convinced him I’d stay, that I’d trade the duke’s starfire for my ring—that I’d be his.
” I’m baiting Jin, eager for a fight to quench my frustration, my anger at failing to help the dragon, at the things I’ve had to say and do here—
Jin closes the distance between us, folding me into his arms. Despite everything, my body curves instinctively into his like it craves his touch.
My lingering resentment and uncertainty slip away, Dian’s warnings fading from my mind.
I’m unraveling, coming apart… and all that matters now is that he’s holding me, and I feel safe for the first time since returning to the Palace of Nine Hills.
“Don’t feel shame in tricking him.” He pulls away to look at me. “Prince Zixin is without honor, seizing what doesn’t belong to him. He lies to his court, his people, maybe even to himself. All that matters is you’re safe, that you’re not going to die.”
His smile is warm, though I catch the tensing of his jaw. He doesn’t like this, but the fact he’s assuring me… my heart feels lighter than it’s been all week.
Jin picks up my ring, his expression intent. “It looks nothing like the rings of Mist Island.”
“It changes when I wear it; I don’t dare do that here.” I must be patient, until we escape—or until I can no longer endure it.
“How do we save the Sun Dragon?” I ask. “My ring freed me from the guardian’s hold, but it returned to the seal. I didn’t dare touch it again.”
“What else do you recall?”
“The seal’s markings flared to life, the starfire attached to it glowing brighter.” It strikes me then. “What if they’re using the starfire to subdue the dragon, to steal its magic?”
“It’s possible. The dragon is powerful, not easily confined,” Jin replies. “Let me confer with Dian. She might know how to tackle this guardian or have something we can use.”
“When will you meet her?” I ask.
“Tomorrow. Prince Zixin has arranged a hunting excursion outside the palace for his guests. Our attendance is mandatory. I must attend to avoid suspicion, but I’ll go to her as soon as I can get away.” He pauses. “Now that you have your ring, do you want to leave?”
Yes… yet the Sun Dragon’s cry resonates in my mind. “Right now, I have Prince Zixin’s trust again; I can get close to him. I can help.”
Jin hesitates like he wants to protest, but then he nods stiffly. “I’ll send word to Lord Chao for reinforcements. Once we escape, we’ll need help if the Iron Mountains pursues us.” He adds, “We must move quickly, with the coronation taking place soon.”
“What about Ruilin?”
“She will join the hunting party and escape then. She can’t stay in the palace much longer.
Prince Zixin has dispatched a messenger to her father.
The sooner we rescue the dragon, the sooner we can all leave.
” Jin pauses, before continuing in a lower voice.
“I hated watching you with him tonight. I hated seeing you smile at him.”
“It didn’t mean anything; I didn’t want to.”
“I know. That makes it worse.” He holds my gaze, time seeming to slow. “We secured a guard in the prince’s courtyard. He was stationed outside tonight to listen for trouble. I would have come had you needed me.”
“You promised you wouldn’t interfere.”
The side of his mouth slants up into a mirthless smile. “I never agreed.”
“It would be reckless. What about the alliance? Everything at stake?”
He bends toward me, brushing away a lock of damp hair from my face. “I’ve always believed if the price of winning is too high, we’ve already lost.”
“I thought you only cared about winning.”
“I told you once, you don’t know me, but you think you do.
” He sighs. “In the beginning, I thought you might be useful. It was safer to keep a distance from you, except even then you had a way of infiltrating my mind, of getting under my skin. But when you fought General Xilu on the tower, though you were doing everything just as I’d planned—I never felt such fear and rage. ”
“What are you saying?” I sit down, my legs growing limp.
He looks at me—not the way someone looks at a pretty flower or a fine painting—but the way one would stare at the full moon or the sky when it comes alive with the fire of dawn.
“I like you,” he tells me quietly. “I’ve liked you for a while.”
Warmth sparks inside me, glittering and golden bright and rare. It is moments like these that mark a life, sifting the extraordinary from the mundane.
“I like you too,” I tell him in a rush, because if I stop to think—I might not say it at all.
His eyes darken as his hand cradles the curve of my neck.
I lean toward him, tilting my head until his breath grazes my lips, then I pull him to me, pressing my mouth to his.
This is real, not a dream, his throat convulsing as his hands slide to my waist. And then he’s lifting me from the chair, wrapping his arms around me, his fingers hard against my skin.
His firm lips mold to mine, our breaths tangling as heat pools low in my belly until it feels like I’m melting inside—set aflame.
He touches me with such fierce possession, it stirs my own hunger.
My fingers weave through his hair, clutching him to me, light scattering through my mind like stars.
This violence of my reaction startles me—all I know is I never want this to end. I tell myself it’s to wipe away the taint of tonight, to seize back control of my spiraling emotions… except I’m lying to myself.
He is not for you.
Dian’s warning slips into my mind, an unwelcome seed of suspicion sprouting.
Just as I’ve been pretending with Prince Zixin, is Jin pretending with me?
I stiffen, drawing back. His expression shutters as his hands fall away from me.
I smother a protest, the urge to toss caution aside, to test how hot and bright the fires between us blaze, to sate the craving he’s stirred inside me.
“This is… I’m not thinking right now. We can’t—here.” My words fracture, almost as badly as my resolve.
“You’re right. But another time…” His voice trails off, a roguish smile breaking across his face.
“There will not be another time.” A hollow claim, my body still flushed from the heat of his embrace.
He reaches for my chin, tilting my face to his. “Don’t lie to me. I may not do it as well as you, but I know all the tricks.”
“I think you lie every bit as well as me.” A vital reminder. Like me, Jin will say and do almost anything to get what he wants.
A wave of dizziness strikes me, the mark on my finger throbbing.
As I sway unsteadily, Jin sweeps me into his arms, my hair falling loose.
He carries me to the bed, laying me down, then brings me Dian’s medicine.
I don’t dare take it yet—after increasing my dose the past few days, the bottle is alarmingly light.
I must ration it, use it only when needed.
“Is it getting worse?” As I nod, he says urgently, “Wear your ring now. Don’t take any risks.”
“Not yet,” I say through gritted teeth. “What if they learn who I am? What if I can’t get out?”
His hand closes over mine. “Promise me, you won’t wait too long. Death is worse than discovery—there’s no return from it.”
My tongue flicks over my dry lips. “You should know me, Jin. I’ll always choose life over death.”
As my eyes close with exhaustion, he squeezes my hand. “Tomorrow, I’ll come back as soon as I can. Wait for me. And then, we’ll find a way home.”
Home. Warmth glides through my veins, delicate and soft like a brush of summer. A precious dream, nearly within my grasp… I can almost smell the flowers.