Page 105 of For Ever More

“I never had a real desire to; an inherited ambition to convince Father I was his rightful heir,” he says gravely. “Now, I just want peace in the realms. To rule my own kingdom.”

“If we succeed, if you regain your throne—you must rule well,” I tell him fiercely. “Your people are suffering. Look to their welfare, help them in times of hardship. Cultivate what you have instead of seeking brutal conquest and misery. Don’t punish those wise and brave enough to advise you well.”

His eyebrows arch. “Are you teaching me to be a king?”

“Your Highness did such poor work of it before, you lost your crown,” I remind him, a barb in my tone. “Many are worthier than me to advise Your Highness, but you never listened to them. If you must be king, be a good one.”

For a moment, we stare at each other. He rises abruptly, striding to a wooden chest by the bed, pulling out a bundle wrapped in silk. As he unknots it, he lifts up a pair of white brocade shoes, studded with pearls and crystals. My shoes… those I left in the Palace of Nine Hills. He holds one out to me, the pearls luminous in the dim light.

“Would you stay and help me?” the Prince of the Iron Mountains offers, so softly I almost miss the implication in his words. “A good king needs the right queen.”

My mind goes blank, my heart thudding. This time, there is none of the suffocating dread when he proposed to me before, offering a place as one of his consorts. This time, there is only a solitary twinge of regret. He is no longer the villainous prince, and I’m no longer the girl with nothing to her name; I know my own worth. And as the shock settles, my answer is the same as it was back then—yet the reasons are entirely different. It’s not that I don’t want him… but that my heart has been claimed by another, someone I’m fighting to get back.

“I hope you find her.” I no longer feel anger or resentment, just a startling clarity that I’m not meant for the fairy tale he offers—at least not this one.

His eyes are ink black. “This time, I’ll be worthy of her.” Yet he doesn’t lower his hand, instead placing the shoes in mine—our fingers grazing briefly before he lets go. “Take it. I give them back to you, without obligation.”

I want to refuse, but my hands are closing around them. These shoes are a part of my past, a cherished gift from the Little Dragon. “Thank you, Zixin,” I say slowly, dispensing with the formalities this once, as he asked me to before.

As a brightness flares in his pupils, I smile through the weight in my chest. “We still have much to do, Your Highness. The kingdom isn’t won yet.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

THE SUN IS SETTING, RUBY FIRE STAINING THE SKIES AS Prince Zixin arrives to escort me to the queen’s banquet. Black and silver waves are embroidered on his white robe, ornaments of jade and iron circling his fingers and wrists. I walk behind him like one of his attendants, wearing a hooded cloak to hide my identity. It gapes with each step, revealing glimpses of my new azure dress and pearl shoes. A thick sash is wrapped around my waist, concealing the jade bottle the prince procured—the same as the one carried by the chief advisor—that now contains the Moon Dragon’s blood. The starfire remains embedded in my locket, almost indiscernible. Only a couple of hours are left until midnight, when the enchantment wears off… when it can be seized from me.

No soldiers stop us, the prince still commanding some respect. As we pass the kitchens, close to the festivities, Prince Zixin gestures at me. “Give my instructions to the cook for my tonic tonight,” he commands, offering me the opportunity to leave.

I bow like his obedient servant—for the last time, I tell myself—waiting till he and his attendants move on. Only then do I stride away, folding myself into the crowd.

The queen’s celebration is held in the main square of the palace. I look into the darkening sky, my blood running cold as I recall the tower of bamboo and iron where I fought General Xilu. Yet the place has been transformed into one of unearthly beauty, erasing all stains of violence. From the center of the square the stone dragon rears, its bulbous eyes gleaming, ringed by a pool of water ablaze with floating candles. The paths leading here are illuminated by lanterns on jeweled stands. Silk blossoms are strewn across the grounds, infused with a sweetness that is both potent and cloying. Colorful birds in delicately wrought cages dangle from the trees, singing sweetly. Beautiful—until one realizes the birds can’t spread their wings in these narrow confines. When the wind blows, their cages rock from side to side, their melodies edged with the shrill pitch of terror.

I slip into a dimly lit corner. Few guests linger here, away from the festivities and refreshments. In the distance, the Grand Hall looms, where I first met the Prince of the Iron Mountains. Yet it’s too small to hold all who came tonight to honor the queen. Not just the nobles and courtiers are in attendance, but honored visitors from across the Three Kingdoms: Duke Yuan and Lady Shufang, with their court and guards, alongside the strongest of the Iron Mountains’ army. The queen is astute to cultivate their loyalty. Once, she had to marry General Xilu to secure his troops’ support—now the soldiers follow her. She has fortified every past weakness with remarkable foresight and cunning. The only vulnerability left is her own greed and ambition.

A large dais is set up at the end of the square, draped in yellow brocade, a gilded phoenix rearing above. Silk lotuses are scattered as though floating upon the ground, alongside pots of chrysanthemums. Queen Chunlei sits in the middle of the long table, her red dress embroidered with tigers. The iron crown rests on her head, the starfire within shining as brightly as the full moon. It is larger now, the size of a small plum, with four pieces merged.

My gut twists with dread. I study the queen, the sharp glitter in her black eyes, her pale skin glazed in a flawlessness akin to porcelain. Despite the vast power in her grasp… she doesn’t seem happy. Her mouth is pressed thin, her bearing taut like she suffers an unseen strain.

The king-consort, General Xilu, sits on her left, though placed a marked distance away. His armor gleams over his broad frame, yet he appears tense as he shifts in his seat, the gray at his temples more pronounced than before. He offers a plate of delicacies to his wife, only for Queen Chunlei’s hand to flick up in curt dismissal. His expression is grim as he watches his wife slant toward the man on her right.

Jin.

Pain spears my heart at the attentive way he looks at her while she speaks, his food untouched before him. Though I can’t make out his eyes from here, I imagine them brightening from brown to gold as he leans closer to listen. If only he remembered it was the queen’s scheme that led to the attack claiming his beloved father’s life. And that his father’s murderer—General Xilu—sits at the same table. Jin’s memory has undoubtedly been tampered with, else the general would already have a knife thrust into his chest. My hands clench to watch Jin in this nest of vipers. If Lord Chao’s spies are here, they will report back that Jin is in no danger—when it couldn’t be further from the truth.

Prince Zixin approaches the dais and greets his sister with a graceful bow. His icy gaze slices across General Xilu and Chief Advisor Mai in a silent rebuke of their past treachery. Lady Shufang rises and takes his arm, guiding the prince to the seat beside her. Her white robe matches his, except hers has fish and coral embroidered in gold and red.

Beneath the dais, the noble guests mingle with the soldiers, many spilling from the square into the pathways. The smell of iron thickens, turning my stomach, suppressing my ability to reach for my magic. Yet magic alone can’t save me as it did before; the queen now possesses the greatest power in the realm. Victory tonight won’t be wrenched through force.

More guests arrive in a steady stream, heading toward the dais to greet the queen and offer their gifts. Priceless treasures are piled to the side: chests of gold, trays of jade bangles, jeweled headdresses, exquisite porcelain ornaments, and paintings. I am tallying their worth before I stop myself, a needless distraction.

A tall man approaches the queen, his white hair gleaming against the gray of his robe. Lord Hairong. My fingers curl as I repress the urge to strike him for killing Shenming, to snatch the starfire away. But for my plan to work, I have to let the queen draw to the very brink of victory.

I begin weaving through the crowd, toward the dais. No one pays me any attention, all staring at the queen who rises to greet the Elder in a rare gesture of respect.

Lord Hairong drops in an awkward bow; it must be years since he deferred to another. “Your Majesty, may you rule the Three Kingdoms and the Land Beyond for a thousand years.”

His despicable words sear; it’s fortunate Dian isn’t here to suffer them.

“I bring a gift.” Lord Hairong straightens, showing no trace of remorse. “One I believe Your Majesty will favor.”