Page 106 of For Ever More

Queen Chunlei beams warmly, exuding the charm that tricked me once. “I will treasure your gift beyond measure, Lord Hairong. Your support will not be forgotten—your desired place in the realm assured.”

They act like the victors of battle, carving up the spoils. Even those that haven’t been won yet.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Lord Hairong holds out a lacquered box in his palm. As he flicks it open, light pours from within.

Starfire.

Gasps of delight ripple around, yet many are silent too, revealing a glimpse of fear that is swiftly buried. Queen Chunlei raises her arms, plucking out the thick gold pin that binds the iron crown to her hair, lifting it from her head. In her delicate hands, the crown appears larger, the starfire blazing like white fire. An attendant could have helped her, but maybe she doesn’t trust another with it.

Prince Zixin’s eyes are riveted on the crown; ambition runs in his blood. He doesn’t look like the prince who returned my shoes earlier—he looks like the one who locked me up and threatened my sister to force my obedience.

“Chief Advisor Mai, bring me Lord Hairong’s gift and the dragon’s blood,” she orders.

The chief advisor might have secured a new title, but his job is the same. He hurries to take the starfire from Lord Hairong, dismissing him with a curt gesture. The Elder scowls as he rubs his sharp nose, yet stalks away.

I study the chief advisor intently. His eyes are pinched as he thrusts a hand into his wide sleeve, fiddling with something there: a knot or fastening? Then he draws out a jade bottle, the twin to the one concealed in my sash.

“Set the starfire in the crown.” Impatience is threaded in the queen’s tone.

The chief advisor’s face glistens with sweat as he carefully places the starfire above the larger stone in the socket. Light ripples across the crown in the queen’s grasp, the prongs glinting as they lengthen, trapping the starfire pieces in place.

The one embedded in the Moon Dragon’s locket pulses against me as though eager to rejoin the others. The guests fall silent, musicians abandoning their instruments as all turn to the dais. Magic, once forbidden in the Iron Mountains, is now the heart of its might.

“The dragon’s blood. Now.” The queen’s voice lashes out.

The chief advisor’s hands are shaking. As he unstoppers the bottle, he fumbles but catches it—anger flaring in Queen Chunlei’s eyes. A smile arches across Prince Zixin’s lips, relishing his old servant’s terror.

Glancing at the crowd, a mask settles over the queen’s face, easing the harsh set of her mouth. She cultivates a careful image of herself, a mirror of lies.

As Chief Advisor Mai raises the bottle, she calls out, “One drop will suffice.”

My heart dips, a queasiness roiling within. I force myself to stand here motionless—to do nothing—when every moment brings the realms closer to devastation. Jin remains seated, his gaze fixed on the queen without a flicker of unease. I want to shake him. Yet he doesn’t remember me, only recalling what the queen allows. Whatever this curse he’s under, I have to break it.

Prince Zixin’s hand is clenched on the table. Such bitter memories this must evoke, of him lying bleeding on the floor at his coronation, his sister and closest confidants seeking his death. As Lady Shufang touches his arm tentatively, he waits a moment then shifts away.

The chief advisor tilts the jade bottle carefully, a single iridescent drop hovering at the neck. It falls—I’m holding my breath—the blood blotting the starfire. In the silence, it seeps into the stone, staining it, then sinking through to the larger one until they gleam a rich dark red. Both pieces of starfire glitter, their edges smoothing… blurring, as the smaller piece merges into the larger one like it’s been swallowed whole. The prongs of the socket widen, the surface of the stone blazing brighter—and when it fades, a single luminous jewel remains, larger than before.

I grip the hilt of my dagger, restraining myself from rushing forward to drive its tip into the surface. Now—before it hardens. But it’s impossible to break the starfire with iron alone. I’d tried and failed, only barely scratching it when it was glazed with the dragon’s blood, before it hardened once more.

All too soon, the moment slips by, the redness of the stone fading to a stark white. Power thrums from the crown, my chest squeezed with terror as the last starfire in the dragon’s locket sears my skin.

Queen Chunlei smiles as she lifts the crown high, the crowd erupting in thunderous cheers. Even now there is no real joy in her face… as though the power she wields strips away a vital part of her. The starfire glows, light surging from it into the heavens, dazzling sparks forming intricate patterns that dance and weave in the night. Beautiful and unearthly, the air shuddering with the force of the queen’s might, heat intensifying as the guests begin fanning themselves. Her eyes shine, the whites pooling across—as waves of flame engulf the heavens. Guests cry out in alarm, the cheers fading into rigid silence, awe morphing into terror as molten fire rains down. Those struck cry out in pain, yet the queen does not stop, her mouth stretched into the rictus of a smile, her skin gleaming with an almost metallic sheen.

A wildness coats her features. I’ve felt that inexorable rush before, the insatiable hunger for power, cresting until it threatens to devour all in its way. Except I wanted to carve it away from me, while the queen thrives on it.

In this moment, she no longer seems mortal… but godlike. Eternal. Monstrous.

“Your Majesty,” the chief advisor cries out in tremulous tones. Has he seen this change in her before? “The crowd is enthralled by your show of might. Yet many are waiting to present their gifts.”

Several guests are cowering by the side of the dais, but soldiers push them forward to form a line, ignoring their looks of fear. The queen turns to them, blinking as the madness dissipates. Slowly, she lowers her hands, the light from the starfire dimming as the fire is extinguished from the sky, leaving just the smell of char.

The chief advisor slumps in relief as he stoppers the bottle, tucking it back in his sleeve. As he tilts his arm, a glimpse of the fastening is revealed: a cloth knot. Only the wealthy typically attach an inner layer to their sleeves, those with something worth stealing—or something to hide. I’ve unpicked these many times before, my fingers attuned to the pressure needed to flick it open without alerting the victim. Except I’m not just stealing the bottle… the harder part will be to replace it. I need a distraction to edge the chief advisor into carelessness, to avoid him noticing the switch.

After all, it’s not enough to prevent Queen Chunlei from securing the last starfire—I must destroy it. Only then will the realms be safe. Only then can I break the curse over Jin.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

SMOKE CROWDS THE AIR FROM THE QUEEN’S FIERY DISPLAY, leaving the skies ashen. Many of the guests are looking toward the pathways, yet soldiers block them, the banquet only over when the queen desires. Midnight is close; I can’t delay any longer.