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“Sister, if you execute her, you’re not as clever as you think,” Prince Zixin drawls as he pushes himself to his feet, his face still pale.

“What do you mean?”

“Her ring; it possesses the key to Mist Island. Didn’t you learn this in your ‘studies’?” he asks bitingly. “You can’t take it from her, and you need her alive to bring you there.”

Her gaze turns speculative. “Don’t hurt the girl,” she orders the soldier holding me. “Make sure my brother and her stay out of trouble.”

As the prince and I are dragged to the side of the dais, he whispers, “How do you wish to thank me for saving your life?”

“With a knife through your heart,” I snarl.

“You had the chance,” he reminds me, his eyes alight. “Maybe you don’t know yourself as well as you think.”

I glare at him as a tremor ripples through my body, still clasped in the throes of fear. If I don’t sever the root of my ring, they’ll use it to invade Mist Island. Yet without it, without my magic, I’ll never be as strong as Dian, I’ll never be powerful. My resolve wavers—my mind tilting toward all I will lose.

Did it hurt? I’d asked Dian. Like a finger cut away.

I brace, pressing my nail to the root of my ring. It stings, but I push down harder till it begins to give way, like piercing through my own flesh, the pain sharp and clear. The jade-green root quivers. A little more force and I’ll sever it entirely—but I release my hold, my fingers curling. Not yet. Not while there’s still a chance we can get away. With Dian weakened, I have to be strong.

“The coronation ceremony must be concluded. Strike the gong,” Princess Chunlei orders the chief attendant, her voice thrumming with eagerness.

“Wait,” General Xilu commands. “Our wedding takes precedence.”

“We must secure the throne first,” Princess Chunlei says in a gentle tone.

“Indeed,” he agrees. “The strike of the gong is an ancient tradition that cannot be disregarded. Let’s not waste any more time.”

When he holds out his hand to the princess, she doesn’t take it, the general’s face clouding. My pulse races. If they’re divided, we’ll have a better chance to escape.

“There’s no need for haste,” she protests. “We have time to plan a proper wedding, a grand celebration.”

“Your Highness, you signed a betrothal contract with me to hold the wedding once the crown is on your head.” His tone is firm, almost harsh. “The terms have been met. Don’t forget, the army is mine; they will follow me to the death.”

Her eyes flit around the hall, the soldiers staring back at her. In a few months, she could have discarded him, but she needs him now. Although she wears the crown, she’s not queen yet—and the general is no fool.

“As you wish. We shall proceed with the wedding,” she says, though her smile is strained.

Attendants rush to prepare the dais for the ceremony, the arrangements unfolding with brutal efficiency. A pair of brocade cushions is set upon the ground, an altar laid with incense sticks and twin candles of red wax. As Princess Chunlei stands stiffly beside the general, a crimson square of silk is pulled over her head—similar to the one tucked in my sleeve. Through the cloth, the starfire on her crown glows with unearthly light. As the guests watch in silence, General Xilu and the princess bow before the altar, offering their vows to heaven and earth. Next, they turn to the late king’s memorial tablet to pay their respects, and finally, they face each other.

As they bow for the third time, a chill envelops me. It’s done; Princess Chunlei wed to General Xilu. When he pulls off her veil to signify the end of the ceremony, a hunted look creeps into her eyes, the general’s flashing with triumph.

He takes her hand, his fingers engulfing hers. “Strike the gong,” he orders.

The chief attendant hurries forward, lifting the mallet and slamming it against the gong, the brassy sound shattering the quiet. Once the last echoes have faded, the chief attendant falls to his knees, clasping his hands as he intones, “Long live Queen Chunlei! May she reign with divine favor for a thousand years across the Iron Mountains, the Three Kingdoms, and the Land Beyond.”

How dare they claim dominion over what they have no right to? My stomach roils as cheers erupt from the guards, the courtiers, and attendants, all falling to their knees. A soldier shoves Prince Zixin down, and I quickly lower myself rather than be forced. These are dangerous times. A queen is crowned, a prince lies bloodied on the floor.

Queen Chunlei smiles, basking in the adulation while General Xilu watches her. As everyone rises, most of the soldiers are still looking at their new queen. Maybe to them we’re no longer a threat, the throne already lost. Dian and Ruilin have almost reached the dais, eluding the distracted guards. My sister looks exhausted but straightens as she meets my gaze. I slant my head at the candles, then pull out the bell-shaped flowers from my pouch.

Once she nods, I swing to Prince Zixin. “Give me the Sun Dragon.” I don’t dare snatch him, afraid of hurting the dragon or drawing attention.

“Whatever you’re planning, take me with you,” he demands.

“Chances are we’ll both die here anyway,” I say to brush him off.

“I don’t want to die among enemies—nor do you.” His stare is piercing. “You owe me.”

“I owe you nothing. You imprisoned me here.”