Page 90 of For Ever More

Lord Hairong inspects me like I’m a strange beast. “How did she summon fire?”

“The Sun Dragon gave her some of his magic,” Shenming says, after a brief pause.

My heart dips—yet I can’t fault him. Shenming believes I am the traitor, stealing the keys and attacking the Elder.

Lord Hairong’s gaze slides to my ring, the gold of the root peeking through. “We shall speak later about why you withheld this from me, Shenming,” he says solemnly. “Where are the soldiers?”

As I brace for them to storm in, Shenming replies, “Dismissed, as ordered. We are alone.”

Unease thickens in my gut. “You aren’t meant to be here either.”

“I suspected you were planning something, but didn’t know the depths you would stoop to, just to save Lord Jin-Yong,” Shenming says brusquely. “Stealing the starfire, betraying us all.”

“I’m not here for the starfire. There is something else I need—”

“—that will help Thorn Valley? I heard of your closeness with their lord.” Lord Hairong’s sneer alters his face, no longer the benevolent and wise Elder.

“It’s for the safety of our realm. To protect the Moon Dragon.” As Shenming’s expression remains unchanged, suspicion flares. “Doesn’t that matter to you? Why aren’t you summoning the other Elders? Why are you both here, alone?”

Lord Hairong pats Shenming’s shoulder almost paternally. “Do you know, I discovered the brave captain as a boy, injured by his parents’ neglect. I took him under my wing and mentored him, recognizing his talent and helping him rise through the ranks. His loyalty never wavered—except once, when he was tempted by another. But after she left, he returned to my side.”

“Dian.” Shock pulses through me. “That’s why you persuaded the others to let her leave.”

“She wanted to go.” Lord Hairong gestures to me. “Now, secure the keys from the girl, Shenming.”

His expression is stern, his grip steady on the sword. “I know how you grasp your power, Yining. I can sense its stirrings,” he warns. “There will be no second chance. Surrender the Elders’ talismans.”

I want to refuse, but a greater fear is that if he searches me, he’ll find the starfire in my waistband. My jaws clench as I dig out the three keys that Lord Hairong snatches up, as I try to conceal the silver one in my grasp.

The Elder’s smile is chilling as he reaches over and pries my fist apart, plucking out my father’s ornament. “Did you steal this from your father too?”

I look down, feigning guilt. Whatever happens, I won’t let any blame fall on my father. “How else could I have obtained it?”

“Heartless child. After all your father and sister did for you. Did you hear of the treasures that are locked here?” His mouth curves, yet he doesn’t seem angry. “Nevertheless, you have done me a great favor tonight.”

As Lord Hairong stalks away, Shenming keeps his sword pointed at me as he hauls me up with his other hand. A vine leaps from a pillar to coil around my wrists, binding them in front of me, though the captain doesn’t lower his blade from my neck. Unfortunately, he knows what I’m capable of—as I know his steadfast sense of duty.

I’m shoved into another room, large and windowless. Lacquered cupboards line the walls, shimmering as though guarded by magic, each locked by a different contraption. Some are wrapped with fleshy roots, others with metal coils, one partially submerged in rock. Lord Hairong goes to a wooden cupboard bound with glistening vines, twisted around a lock carved with an intricate pattern. He places the three talismans from the Elders into it, then presses the silver flower from my father above them. The vines quiver, then slither away from it, the cupboard swinging open.

An herbal scent fills the air, flowery yet sharp. The shelves inside are crammed with porcelain bottles, cases of flowers and leaves, stacks of handwritten paper and scrolls. Treasures of the “Rare Harvests”—I’d planned to test the elixir on the wintergrass I brought. Lord Hairong rummages through them, plucking out a cobalt porcelain bottle with a coral stopper. Beside it is a pot of wintergrass, with snow-white blades. Excitement jolts me—morphing to terror, when Lord Hairong uncorks the bottle and shakes out a drop over the grass. White bleeds to ash as the stalks shrivel, the plant withering to dust.

“Why did you destroy it?” I ask hoarsely, stifling a protest.

“Loose ends. When weeds sprout in the wrong place, they must be torn out before they infect the harvest.” Lord Hairong’s mouth tightens. “Why do you care?”

My mind whirls—a terrible realization dawning. “You’re burying the evidence,” I accuse him, needing to press him into a confession—to bring Shenming to my side. “Have there been too many questions of late around the decay in Thorn Valley? Are they getting too close to the truth?”

Shenming swings to me. “What do you mean, Yining?”

“The Elders destroyed the wintergrass that once grew on our island—then planted it in Thorn Valley to kill the Radiant Sky Trees there, plunging their land into ruin.” I say clearly to Lord Hairong, “You feign ignorance of the decay when it was you who orchestrated it.”

Shenming’s face is stricken. “Why would the Elders do that?”

“The dragons.” I hold his gaze unflinchingly. “Wintergrass is most lethal against the Radiant Sky Trees. These grew in Thorn Valley long before here—the dragons used to live there. After the trees died, they left, the Moon and Sun Dragon persuaded to come to Mist Island instead.”

“Lord Hairong, is this true?” Shenming’s voice catches, though his sword remains steady.

The Elder is pale, yet stern as he points at me. “You have been influenced by the Lord of Thorn Valley’s wicked lies, a traitor to your people.”