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“I have sent spies to the Palace of Nine Hills to learn more of my nephew’s situation. You may stay with us until we hear more—”
“I must go to the Iron Mountains. I won’t leave Jin there.” A bitter smile spreads across my face. “Perhaps I can strike a ‘deal’ of my own.”
“Do you think the queen will deal honorably with you?”
“I’m not that great a fool.” I add bluntly, “Neither are you.”
“Do you have a plan? Will you need help?” he asks. “Security around the Palace of Nine Hills has tightened since Queen Chunlei took power. It will be impossible to bribe your way inside or to storm the palace through force as my nephew did to save you. Nevertheless, we can provide a troop of guards in plain armor.”
I’m tempted. Yet it will be easier to convince the queen if I appear alone, abandoned without allies or choice—my only path to save the one I love by betraying my people. It is the scheme she’s woven around me, which I must pretend to be snared in.
“I need a horse, a change of clothes, and face paint to disguise my appearance. Safe passage to the Iron Mountains, by the quickest way. If your soldiers could cause a distraction, it would allow me to pass through unhindered.”
Lord Chao calls out to Captain Hong, waiting outside. “Prepare the necessary supplies, silver and gold too. Accompany Miss Yining to the border—and ensure she gets across safely.”
I bow my head. “Thank you, Lord Chao.”
His mouth parts in the shadow of a smile. “This is not out of kindness. I expect you to bring my nephew home—if that is what he wants.”
“It is,” I assure him with new conviction. “And I will.”
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
THE HORSE FROM THORN VALLEY COVERS THE DISTANCES with ease, the same one that bore me to the Pearl Ocean. I’ve changed into a green gown with a flowing cloak, my hair worn loose. To avoid recognition, I’ve painted my face as I used to when selling false fortunes in the Iron Mountains. It felt strange looking at myself in the brass mirror, the reshaped planes of my face, my newly acquired moles and thicker eyebrows. I even rubbed an herb onto my lips to make them appear fuller for my disguise.
Close to the border, the soldiers led by Captain Hong break away from me. I wait—shouts ring out, the clash of weapons. The sound of hooves reverberates on the other side, the queen’s soldiers investigating the chaos. At once, I ride swiftly across a narrow break in the trees, heading into the forest beyond—back in the Iron Mountains.
The cold air is starkly familiar. Unwelcome. My heart thuds as I guide the horse in the direction of the Palace of Nine Hills, moving swifter than any creature of this kingdom. A short distance ahead, a troop of soldiers approaches, their armor gleaming with that repellent sheen. At once, I veer away from them, losing myself among the trees.
It’s still dark, urgency pulsing through my veins. As I pass near my old home, fragments of shadows stir, ghosts of the past. My mind shifts to my aunt and uncle, my only warm memories of childhood. As for Mistress Henglan, I won’t think of her at all, having resolved to cut her from my life as rot on a branch.
The locket from the Moon Dragon sears against my chest, a reminder of the starfire embedded within. With this, I could walk into the Palace of Nine Hills and obtain an audience with the queen to demand my heart’s desire. Not just Jin, but the fulfilment of every frivolous dream: of wealth, power, respect. I almost understand Lord Hairong’s ambition to secure his place at the pinnacle of this new order, because sometimes when I’m weak, when I’m most afraid… it tempts me too. How easy it would be to offer the starfire to the Queen of the Iron Mountains, to protect everyone I love, securing our safety and future.
Except it would plunge the realms into tyranny.
I’m no longer who I was. This time, I’m not running from danger, but toward it—not hiding, but fighting. For myself, for my loved ones… for those who died so I could live. Tears prick my eyes that I let fall. Not all tears are those of weakness.
At last, the Palace of Nine Hills looms in the distance, nestled amid jagged peaks. It’s early in the morning, yet still dark. The iron wall gleams ominously as it snakes around the grounds. A familiar revulsion rises, my stomach churning at the metallic scent—stronger now, keener. I warn myself against touching the iron; it would reveal the magic that those here fear.
Closer to the palace, I dismount from my horse. It doesn’t bolt away, nuzzling my shoulder. “Find someplace safe to hide,” I whisper, stroking its mane. “Come when I call you.” The horse lowers its head in seeming understanding, then gallops away almost soundlessly.
Soldiers crowd the entrance. Long lines of people stream from it, just as on the day of the ball. Instinctively my gaze drifts to the top of the wall, where I caught my first glimpse of the fabled Prince of the Iron Mountains. The memory feels so real, I almost see him again now, taller than the archers, clad in pristine white with an iron headpiece on his hair. A trick of my mind, this place rousing the past too vividly. I stifle a laugh to recall the excitement I’d felt back then to enter the palace. Now there is only dread—and pity for the hordes of people scrambling to enter the walls of this cage.
I weave among them, soon learning the queen is hosting a grand celebration for her birthday tonight. Many here are the noble guests who have traveled from afar, as well as those helping with the preparations.
“I hear Prince Zixin will be attending too,” a young woman says eagerly.
“How swiftly those in power rise and fall,” the man with her remarks bitingly. “One day he is our future king, then a fugitive. Now, restored to favor by the sister who took his crown.”
“Only through the influence of his future bride,” an older woman sneers, raising a fragrance pouch to her nose. “How will he bear the humiliation?”
Her scorn rankles. The prince has done much that deserves condemnation, yet being betrayed by his sister isn’t one of them.
“His Highness will bear it as the other nobles do, it’s how they stay alive,” the man replies. “Our queen is too powerful. Even General Xilu treads carefully around her these days.”
“King-Consort Xilu,” someone corrects him.
“For now.” A smirk in his tone. “Her Majesty seems to be tiring of him.”
