Chapter 17 Àn’yīng #2
“And you forget, your mother’s Wind Messenger shall carry a report of her son’s activities to her tonight,” Weirufeng counters.
“Lest you wish to impress upon me that you intend to disavow the reason we bring mortals into our realm? Or…worse…” His impenetrable silver gaze slides to me.
“Do you mean to tell me you have broken a sacred rule and allowed a lucid mortal—a former enemy’s ally, nonetheless—into our highest court? ”
Yù’chén’s fingers tighten against my wrists. “Of course not,” he says after a slight pause, and his grip loosens.
Weirufeng’s command surges inside me, and I let it lead me forward. I have to put on a performance to convince Weirufeng that I am claimed and drunk on oleander nectar.
I lean close to Yù’chén. His familiar scent of midnight wind and the sharp sweetness of scorpion lilies envelops me as, slowly, I press a kiss to the hollow of his throat. His skin is hot and he’s tense, his grip tight on my waist as though he’s preparing for a fight instead of for pleasure.
I understand: This is a game of power and humiliation. Like Niefuzan and Xisenyin the other night, Weirufeng is putting him in his place.
I suddenly wonder what else these Higher Ones have made him endure. I’m not in the mood for games tonight, Niefuzan. He greeted Niefuzan with cold indifference—but I recall the smirking, red-cloaked practitioner I met in the mortal realm, the nonchalance he wore like a second skin.
My touch turns gentle. I let Weirufeng’s command carry me, guided now by my own sentiments. I place my palm against Yù’chén’s jaw, tracing a thumb across his cheek—a silent signal of reassurance back to him. He shifts his head slightly, his lips brushing against my fingertips. An answering signal.
I’m unprepared for how my hand tingles in response.
“Surely the empress’s most esteemed Wind Messenger has better things to do tonight.” Yù’chén’s tone is cool, but his hands fist in the fabric of my dress, keeping my body a handbreadth from his. “Deliver your message and run back to her like the good dog you are.”
Weirufeng’s laugh sends a chill through my spine. “Very well. The empress returns to the Kingdom of Night tomorrow, still triumphant with the recent assassination of the mortal heir and her campaign’s progress into the Kingdom of Sky.”
The report is like ice in my veins.
But the Wind Messenger is not finished. “At midnight tomorrow, she requests your presence again to report on the progress for your coronation to the mortal throne. And this time, she has asked for your claimed mortal companion as well. She is to be questioned on her knowledge of the mortal throne…by the empress this time.”
I inhale sharply. My mind is racing in a million directions, my heart slamming against my rib cage—but my body is still under Weirufeng’s compulsion. As Yù’chén’s grip slips from my waist, I slide my hand to his thigh and lean my hips against his.
His gaze snaps to mine. I catch a flash of panic as he tries to shift away, only there’s nowhere he can go, and I’m pressed against the hard lines of his body, his desire clear.
“Tell my mother she can continue to question me.” He sounds slightly out of breath. “The mortal girl knows nothing.”
“The empress would like to confirm that herself, before the entire court.”
“She must abide by her covenant with me.”
“The covenant states that the girl shall keep her life.” Weirufeng’s eyes glitter.
I feel sick to my stomach—sick with the revelation that Sansiran plans to force me to reveal the secret to claiming the throne to the Kingdom of Rivers tomorrow, sick with attempting to fight Weirufeng’s dark magic still twined over me…
and sick with my body’s reaction to Yù’chén’s.
Touching him like this is a match struck in the hollow space of my heart; where once there was only coldness and the dark, heat now sparks deep inside me.
I close my eyes as I kiss the side of Yù’chén’s jaw, horrified that I no longer know where Weirufeng’s command ends and my own will begins.
“You will be summoned tomorrow eve.” Weirufeng’s voice sounds very distant to my ears. “When the moon is highest in the midnight sky, you and your mortal claim are to present yourselves before the Court of the Aurora. Enjoy your time with your prize tonight, Your Highness.”
A swirl of night wind and glittering dust, and the Higher One and his subordinates are gone. I can feel that Weirufeng’s command has lifted, his dark magic faded from my veins. All that is left are the flames slowly burning through my blood, threatening to light my skin on fire.
“àn’yīng?” Yù’chén’s voice is low by my ear. His grip loosens against my waist, but he continues to hold me gently. As if he doesn’t want to let go.
The worst thing is, I don’t, either.
He draws back, his eyes dark as he takes me in. Pressed this close, I feel his heartbeat thundering in his chest, the tremor of his hands as he touches a thumb to my chin.
His gaze darts to my mouth as he traces a slow, careful finger across my cheek, down my jawline, stopping at the hollow crook of my neck. The nonchalance of his expression falls away to a heady, intoxicating desire that makes my head spin.
“àn’yīng,” he says again, and I suddenly realize my own face mirrors the longing on his.
I push away from him and stumble back, my cheeks burning.
Yù’chén’s face is flushed. He blinks, then swallows and straightens, averting his gaze as he reaches down to rearrange his robes.
I can’t look at him. We’re still close enough for me to feel the heat from his body, to feel his gaze on me, to feel the hundred unspoken things burning in the air between us. I can’t think like this—can’t focus on what Weirufeng just revealed or how I should play my next move.
If Sansiran tortures me or uses force to draw out what I know about ascending the mortal throne, it’s over. I would no longer have anything to bargain with, no reason for Yù’chén to make a covenant with me.
“Forgive me, àn’yīng,” Yù’chén says quietly.
I don’t know what he’s asking for my forgiveness for—the fact that his mother is forcing my hand and may very well kill me tomorrow, the fact that a member of his court just coerced me into doing things not of my own free will…
or that the ashes of what once was possible between us are now roaring into a wildfire.
Nausea rises in my throat. How can I be feeling anything for Yù’chén, son of the tyrant who destroyed everything we fought for, whose army killed Hào’yáng?
I suddenly can’t stand to look at him. “I need some air,” I manage. “Alone.”
Our alcove opens to a secluded balcony overlooking the edge of the glade. It’s empty, concealed from the rest of the revelry by a row of purple wisteria trees. I make for this, and Yù’chén doesn’t follow me. The wild, upbeat music and twirling dancers fall away, yielding to some semblance of peace.
I exhale as I lean over the stone balustrades. Clouds swirl in empty stretches of space between distant mountains, the glow of the shifting aurora overhead undulating over them.
It might have been beautiful.
I try to imagine a future here, an eternity here.
I am out of time. Tomorrow, I must make a covenant with Yù’chén before we meet with Sansiran; I will secure my power in this kingdom and my influence over the policies of the mó’s rule over my home.
And from here, I will protect my home and those I love.
I look to the distant lights shimmering just beyond reach and imagine Hào’yáng there, his armor rendered like the sun, his eyes as steady as the earth.
I know he would want me to go on fighting.
I swipe my palms across my cheeks. I know the choice I am making as I turn to go back to Yù’chén.
But the alcove of wisteria where Yù’chén was waiting for me is gone.
In its place is a row of flowering pear trees.
Frost blooms at their roots, spreading across the grass, and as I watch, dozens more begin to sprout from the ground, blocking the path back.
The air has turned icy, and my breath plumes in front of me.
Feminine laughter trills in the open space, which has suddenly grown eerily silent. And then a sweet voice rings out from all around:
“A little flower, drifted into my land of winter?”