CHAPTER FORTY-SIX #2
Princess Chunlei stands just below the throne, her hands clasped before her.
As she bows to her brother, then straightens—her mouth curves into a proud, affectionate smile.
If I hurt her brother, what will she do?
If it goes wrong, will she still protect Ruilin and my sister?
Hopefully, we won’t stay to find out. I don’t intend to surrender.
I’m going to run, and I’m taking my family with me.
I search the hall, catching sight of Ruilin holding my sister’s arm to steady her. Relief fills me to find Dian awake; the medicine must have worked. Yet her face is pale and drawn, her eyes bloodshot, the flesh around her finger still raw and torn.
Dian stares back at me, taking in my red garments, a match to those of the prince, her eyes fixing upon my ring. My insides churn. Does she think I’ve betrayed her and our people? If only I could tell her the truth: that I haven’t given up, still seeking a way to get us free.
The chief attendant ascends the dais bearing the royal crown, the starfire in it glittering brightly. He sets it on a table before him, then bows and steps aside. The coronation takes precedence over the wedding.
Prince Zixin turns to the audience, his voice resonant and clear.
“As king, I pledge my life to protecting the Iron Mountains, to guarding our might. We will become the greatest kingdom across the realms; even those of the Land Beyond will bow to us. As I vowed to my father, I vow to you, that the shadow of Mist Island will never darken our borders. I have fulfilled all my father’s conditions, strengthened our army, laid the foundation for a future that shines as bright as our iron. ”
Bright with stolen magic. My hands clench, my nails carving crescents into my palms.
Cheers ring through the hall. Dian is silent, her gaze burning into mine.
Prince Zixin just declared his ambition to conquer Mist Island and Thorn Valley.
Was this why Jin and his soldiers were barred from the palace?
It’s clear the offer of Princess Chunlei’s hand in marriage is a ruse to lower their guard, maybe to place a spy within?
“Your Highness, we must proceed,” the chief attendant suggests.
Prince Zixin’s expression is grave as he plucks the royal seal from his waist, the starfire dangling above it. A quick twist and the seal splits apart like a ripe plum, dazzling light spilling forth—just as that night in the forge. When the glare fades, a small cage lies in the palm of his hand.
My heart almost stops. A tiny golden dragon writhes frantically within, his eyes as luminous as pearls, scarlet antlers rearing from his head.
As his claws scrape the metal bars, a few red berries fall to the ground—familiar, yet the reason eludes my mind.
This must be the Sun Dragon, stirring a fragment of memory all those years ago.
I reach for him, but the chief attendant’s suspicious stare darts to me, the soldiers shifting closer.
One wrong move and the guards would cut me down. I need a plan, an opportunity.
The dragon’s jaws part, his cry piercing the air. I resist the urge to press my hands to my ears—just as Dian is doing, her face twisted in anguish. No one else does the same; can the dragon only be heard by those of our island?
Prince Zixin unclasps the starfire from the seal—the cage breaking into shards like it was the gem that forged it, that held it together. As he cradles the dragon in his palm, his throat convulses.
Wind surges into the hall, rippling the red brocade hangings, knocking the hats off a few ministers, as several hold on to their skirts.
Most of the candles are extinguished, leaving just a few flickering wildly.
The guests exchange frantic glances, their confusion as clear as the skies beyond.
“Magic,” a few whisper, yet are abruptly silenced.
The soldiers surrounding the hall close tighter, almost blocking the light from outside.
Something slithers through the air—mist coiling around the dais like a translucent serpent. Along the wall, the chrysanthemums shiver, their tips turning red. Their delicate fragrance shifts, the sweetness tainted with a tinge of iron, and of blood.
“Your Highness, the auspicious hour for the coronation is upon us,” the chief attendant says somberly.
He hands the prince a small knife, agleam with that silvery sheen. Prince Zixin holds the dragon over the crown, his movements jerking… like he’s nervous or ill, a haunted expression dulling his gaze.
My hands are ice cold as I grab his arm. “Your Highness, don’t hurt the dragon.” In the silence, my voice emerges unnaturally loud, many of the guests swinging to us. As the dragon cranes his head toward me, my heart splinters at the recognition in his shining eyes.
“I won’t hurt it.” Prince Zixin speaks with such resolve, I almost believe him. “Just one small cut.”
As he pulls away, the chief attendant nods furiously at the guards who step between the prince and me.
The Sun Dragon’s jaws part, his song rising, beautiful and melancholy.
The prince’s eyes are bright as he places his starfire on top of the one in the crown.
The clawlike prongs of the crown’s socket shimmer, widening to fit the second stone, snapping it into place. Slowly, he raises the knife—
“No!” My voice rings out, stronger this time. I dart forward, but a soldier blocks my way.
Alarm beats through me, the frantic pulsating kind that drowns reason. My fingers curl around the dagger stolen from Princess Chunlei. As I lunge at Prince Zixin, two soldiers grab me back—and then, it’s too late, the knife in the prince’s hand descending swiftly.
Another cry rings out, entwined with the dragon’s—Dian’s, her hands thrust through her hair.
The prince’s knife drops, clattering upon the ground.
Blood scatters along the dragon’s golden scales, fire flecked with iridescence, trickling over the pair of starfire in the crown.
The Sun Dragon’s eyes glow—bone white—as he crumples in Prince Zixin’s hand.
I’m crying, bitter tears of impotence and rage, unraveling with fear that doing nothing might be the worst outcome of all.
Dazzling light envelops the crown, the guests shielding their eyes.
The cries and murmurs of unease are louder now—yet they fade when the soldiers draw closer.
The dragon’s blood doesn’t slide over the starfire but thickens and congeals as it seeps into the stones like ink into snow, turning it a deep, dark red.
They glitter, their edges blurring—as they merge into each other…
forming a single jewel, a larger one—its radiance incandescent.
The Sun Dragon lies still, his eyes closed, his blood continuing to flow unhindered. An attendant rushes forward to hold a porcelain bowl beneath to catch the blood.
“He trusted me. I betrayed him,” Prince Zixin says in a low voice, yet remorse is meaningless after what he’s done.
“It’s what your father would have wanted,” the chief attendant says steadily. “This is the only way to secure our kingdom’s future when our enemies are so powerful, when our allies envy our might. We must become greater than them all, to destroy those who threaten us.”
The prince stares at the dragon cupped in his hands. “Chief Attendant Mai, the advisors claimed just a drop of the dragon’s blood was needed to fuse the starfire pieces together. Why is the wound worsening?” He glares at the chief attendant as he asks, “What did you do to the knife?”
Sudden cries ring out from beyond the Grand Hall, blades colliding in sharp scrapes. Soldiers stream in from outside, weapons drawn as they charge at the palace guards. Their armor is the same as those of the Iron Mountains’, yet disks of coppery metal gleam at their breastplates.
“Secure His Highness’s safety!” a soldier cries out, more of the prince’s guards rushing toward the dais. “We’ve been betrayed!”
I duck away from the distracted soldiers, searching for Dian and Ruilin, pushed to the side of the hall by the fleeing crowd.
My sister is hunched from strain, yet her eyes shine—like me, she scents opportunity in chaos.
Courtiers shove their way to the entrance, each keen for their survival.
But more rogue soldiers surround the hall, allowing none through.
I move toward Prince Zixin. He seems to care for the dragon too, though it didn’t stop him. “Let the dragon go,” I say urgently.
“No.”
His soldiers have formed a ring around us, battling the attackers. Princess Chunlei lifts her long skirt, hurrying up the dais. But too many guards—both friend and enemy—block her path, her face contorting with worry. No one can reach the prince now… except me. His bride.
My hand tightens around the hilt of the dagger, almost trembling.
This isn’t like fighting the assassins to defend myself.
Those were strangers, while Prince Zixin is the ruler of the Iron Mountains.
I’m teetering on the brink of madness, of danger and ruin…
yet this is our only chance—now, while his guards are diverted.
I spin around, drawing the dagger. It flashes in the air—its tip landing at the hollow of the prince’s throat.
When he recoils, I press the blade down harder, piercing his skin.
“What are you doing?” Prince Zixin’s voice is sharp with anger, with shock.
“You asked me once what I did in the mountains,” I say coldly, like how Dian used to speak to me. “I hunted animals for food, I killed them for meat.”
His body stiffens, his eyes flaring wide. “What do you want?”
“Release the dragon and let us go.” I add, “I will hurt you, if I must.”
Something flickers in his gaze. “You already have.”
My chest twinges though he is the villain.
He’s trembling and sweating like he’s sick, a thin trail of darkness seeping through the cloth over his chest…
Is it blood? Images flash through my mind: the dragon nestled in the prince’s palm, the knife descending to cut it.
Of red berries floating in a cup, rolling on the ground, the pins in the princess’s hair, the jeweled dagger on my table that’s now in my grasp.
As I inhale sharply, the delicate sweetness of chrysanthemums hits the back of my throat. The flowers of death.
What should I do? I had asked the princess—afraid, uncertain. Desperate.
What you must.
I raise the dagger swiftly and thrust it deep.