Page 91 of Never Ever After

Prince Zixin is fast asleep, half sprawled across the bed, though his legs are still on the ground. In slumber, he looks younger, his eyelashes curved against his skin. When he awakens tomorrow, all he will recall is that I bid him good night and left his room. I blow out most of the candles, leaving just one, then pull Prince Zixin’s legs onto the bed. He is heavier than he looks, but I’m strong from lugging firewood and water back in my old home.

The ring tingles against my chest, hot then cold—the mark on my finger pulsing with sudden force. As the prince shifts to his side, the air prickles with tension. I reach for the iron seal, but he thrashes, his limbs jerking—I snatch my hand back. His eyelids flutter, is he waking already? But then his body stills, a low sound rolling from his throat. Maybe it’s the nightmare from Dian’s herb.

The seal thrums, the metal gleaming, the starfire above it glittering. Anticipation spikes as my hand hovers over the seal, my fingers closing around it: cold, like it’s been buried in the snow. Along each corner are slender ridges like bars, etched with strange markings. As I press them, trying to pry them apart, the starfire blazes brighter, the carvings aglow as tendrils of smoke pour from the seal—pain erupting, like I’ve plunged my hand into hot oil.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

I f hell exists, this is it.

I’m burning, lashed by seething agony, unable to think or scream as I curl over. My fingers are locked on the seal, welded to it, the etchings searing like embers. Smoke twists from the seal, winding around my arm. As its grip tightens, a coldness spears my body. A scream crowds my throat but I choke it down. If the guards come in, if Prince Zixin wakes to find me trapped this way—he’ll take back my ring, he’ll lock me up.

More smoke pours from the seal, coalescing into a towering pillar. Two points flare to life, like eyes, aglow with the harsh brightness of the starfire—akin to the head of some nightmarish serpent. As I struggle to free myself, pain swells along my arm. I’m not thinking of discovery anymore but of how to survive.

My resolve snaps. I open my mouth to scream—but then, my ring sears against my chest. I yank it out to find the six-petaled flower quivering, the band bathed in radiance. My fingers are shaking too hard, fumbling the clasp on the chain. Yet holding the ring calms me as its heat seeps through—it shimmers brighter, its light piercing the smoke to pry me loose. I wrench my arm free, snatching at my dagger, slashing at the figure. It rears back, writhing as holes are punctured in its shadowy form, tearing wider like it’s being ripped apart.

The smoke dissipates into fine wisps that slither back into the seal. I slump down on the ground, echoes of pain reverberating through me. Hard to imagine the time Mistress Henglan was the greatest monster I knew; my world was a lot safer before magic entered it.

I stare at my ring as the light fades from it, suppressing the urge to slide it over my finger where it belongs. Not yet, not till I’m far from the Palace of Nine Hills, from the prince and the countless soldiers who obey his every command. As I tuck the ring back into the folds of my robe, only then do I hear it: a soft cry slipping from the seal, the creature’s voice from the forge, thick with misery and suffering. The Sun Dragon. My heart aches, my body stills. In this moment, his pain is mine… and it is greater than the world.

Prince Zixin stirs, his eyes darting restlessly beneath their lids. Whatever nightmares plague him can’t be worse than the one just unleashed on me. My arm throbs, dark bruises blotting it like ink. As my breathing steadies, I push myself up. Careful not to touch the seal or the starfire again, I inspect the cords binding it to the prince’s waist, finding no knot or fastening. I try sawing at the bindings with my dagger, but they don’t give way. Some strange power welds the seal to the prince, guarding it from theft, even from my blade.

The etchings on the seal have gone dark, the carved chrysanthemum almost mournful with its drooping head. There is only silence now—neither song nor cry—as though the magic that protects the seal also conceals the creature trapped within. I want to help the dragon but dare not touch the seal again, to risk discovery when Prince Zixin might awaken soon.

As I leave his rooms, my spirits swing from high to low—I’ve failed to save the dragon, yet am lucky to have my ring, to be alive. Outside, in his courtyard, the guards stare at me knowingly, their thoughts as plain as though spoken aloud. My garments are disheveled, my face glossy with the sheen of sweat. I touch my lips, the paint smeared, my hair hanging loose over my shoulders. I look like I’ve spent the last few hours in bed—not fighting for my life.

I hold my chin higher. Let them look, let them judge. I won’t be ashamed of what I didn’t do. Yet I walk quickly, eager for the safety of my own quarters—for someplace I don’t have to pretend.

Jin is waiting in my room, sitting in the dark. Somehow, he’s slipped past the guards outside my courtyard. He rises as I enter, warmth surging through me at the sight of him.

I close the door, then light a candle. “You shouldn’t be here—”

“I couldn’t stay away.” His eyes comb me. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my arm.”

He draws my sleeve away, sucking in a breath at the sight of the swollen skin. At once he takes out a jar from his sleeve, rubbing the ointment over my wounds. It smells medicinal, like aloe and lavender—soothing my nerves, dulling the pain.

“Are you injured anywhere else?”

“No.” Yet I’m still trying to pick through the wounds that are forming within, the lies I’d spewed that clawed at my pride.

Jin’s mouth draws into a thin line. “I’ll kill him.”

“Prince Zixin didn’t hurt me,” I assure him at once. “The seal was protected by a spell. Smoke emerged when I touched it, forming some type of guardian. It attacked me, but I escaped. I heard the dragon’s cry. We have to save him.”

“We will. As for your ring—”

I pull out the chain clasped around my neck, my ring dangling from it. “Prince Zixin gave it back to me.” My triumph feels hollow. While I don’t care what the others believe about me, it matters what Jin thinks. He’s sharp enough to realize the prince wouldn’t relinquish my ring without obtaining something else in return.

“Why do you think he gave it back to me?” I speak harshly, trying to conceal how vulnerable I feel. “I convinced him I’d stay, that I’d trade the duke’s starfire for my ring—that I’d be his.” I’m baiting Jin, eager for a fight to quench my frustration, my anger at failing to help the dragon, at the things I’ve had to say and do here—

Jin closes the distance between us, folding me into his arms. Despite everything, my body curves instinctively into his like it craves his touch. My lingering resentment and uncertainty slip away, Dian’s warnings fading from my mind. I’m unraveling, coming apart… and all that matters now is that he’s holding me, and I feel safe for the first time since returning to the Palace of Nine Hills.

“Don’t feel shame in tricking him.” He pulls away to look at me. “Prince Zixin is without honor, seizing what doesn’t belong to him. He lies to his court, his people, maybe even to himself. All that matters is you’re safe, that you’re not going to die.”

His smile is warm, though I catch the tensing of his jaw. He doesn’t like this, but the fact he’s assuring me… my heart feels lighter than it’s been all week.

Jin picks up my ring, his expression intent. “It looks nothing like the rings of Mist Island.”