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“No. You are needed here, Captain—along with every soldier. Your foremost duty is to your people, your home. Your family,” Lady Shila commands. “Guard the waters. No one is permitted to leave our shores to prevent our enemy from finding us.”
My stomach churns, yet I recall Shenming’s promise. Even if he changes his mind, the Elders’ rules won’t keep me here. I lower my head to hide my anger at their decisions. Some allies are worse than enemies.
“Honored Elders, what about the Moon Festival tonight?” Mistress Weining asks. “In light of the tragedy, the Moon Dragon is unlikely to come out of seclusion, deep in mourning. Perhaps we should cancel it.”
“We will proceed with the festival,” Lady Shila decrees. “All the preparations have already been made.”
“A festival?” I repeat in a daze. “We should be preparing for war—”
“This festival bears great significance for us.” Lady Shila’s eyes grow cold, her brusque tone one I’ve never heard before. “You are ignorant of our traditions, but our most important celebrations are when we gather to celebrate the dragons.”
“Dragon,” I say without thinking, my chest heavy. “There is only one left.”
A bleak silence descends, a few of the guards wiping their eyes.
Lord Hairong sighs. “Whether this draws the Moon Dragon out of seclusion or not, she will hear our prayers and see how we come together to celebrate her—reminded of our reverence and love. While the dragon protects us, we are safe.”
The Elders dismiss us shortly after. As we leave the pavilion, Shenming chides me, “You were careless. You angered the Elders.”
“I was exceedingly restrained,” I correct him. “You spoke up too.”
“There is a balance to be struck between offering your opinion for consideration and respecting the Elders’ judgment.”
“Are you advising me as my friend or their captain?”
“I’m trying to protect you and your family,” he replies curtly.
I turn to look at him. “You know as well as me, if Thorn Valley is attacked and we do not help them—we will all perish. Doing nothing is akin to surrender, except more cowardly, refusing to take a stand. If we don’t fight now when we have everything to lose… then we’ve already lost.”
Shenming doesn’t reply, yet this feels far from a victory. A heaviness descends, the weight of impossibility crashing over me at the tasks ahead—and the terrible, unimaginable consequences should I fail.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
FATHER IS WAITING OUTSIDE OUR HOME, IN THE SHADE OF the tree—word having reached him of our return. His hair seems grayer, the creases deeper along his forehead.
“You are all unhurt; I can sleep well tonight.” He hugs Dian, slaps Shenming’s back, then turns to me—hesitating before clasping his hand over my shoulder. “Come inside, Ruilin and I made breakfast.” At Dian’s arched brow he grins. “She has learned to peel onions and chop vegetables.”
“Without slicing off my fingers,” Ruilin adds with a grin, going to my sister’s side as we enter the house.
“We made sesame pancakes stuffed with pork and chives.” Father carries the plates to the table. “You must not have eaten well for days, look how thin you’ve become.”
I smile, a rare lift in my spirits since Jin was taken. We were gone just over a week, but Father makes it sound like years.
“Yining and I look just the same, Father,” Dian says tartly. “They fed us well in the Pearl Ocean.” Her voice trails off, her expression darkening. “If only we returned with better tidings.”
Despite the hollow in my heart, warmth fills me at being home. The weeks I spent here: talking to my family, laughing with them, eating the food my father made—these are memories of my own, not those I’m struggling to recover. And though my mother isn’t here, her presence lingers in my father’s and Dian’s affection when they speak of her, in the rustle of the magnolia tree when the wind blows through the window.
Father waits till we’ve eaten before pressing us for news. When Shenming tells him about the dragon, he stiffens with grief. “A grave loss,” he says, wiping his eyes. “The Moon Dragon must be devastated. I will light incense in the temples to pray for them both.”
They chose to stay—to protect the people they grew to love, who love them too.
“Will the Moon Festival be canceled?” Father asks.
“No,” Dian replies. “The Elders believe it will comfort the Moon Dragon and draw her from seclusion.”
“The Great One should be allowed her peace to mourn,” he says, but then swiftly corrects himself. “The Elders know best.” He turns to Shenming. “With the looming danger of the Iron Mountains, what do the Elders advise us to do?”
“Hide,” I reply. “It will be the end of us all.”
