Page 87 of For Ever More

I stare in shock. “Why?”

“The treasury is divided into the different factions of the council, each requiring a different key in addition to those of the Elders. Father is the Master of Rare Harvests; this elixir falls under his domain.”

My heart sinks. While I have no hesitation in stealing from the Elders, to steal from my own father would wreck our fragile relationship, the one we’ve both been trying so hard to build.

“Why not ask this of Father?” Dian suggests gently.

“How can I? He is on the council, with duties I can’t fathom. I don’t have proof, nor am I able to tell him everything. I don’t want to make him choose—”

“Father will choose us,” Dian tells me with certainty. “Else Mother would haunt him from the grave.”

Still, I hesitate. She knows the father she grew up with, who watched over her since she was a child, their closeness unbroken. The father I know is the one I came back to a few months ago, still awkward around me, even hesitant. Moreover, his obedience to the rules here is evident even when they go against his instincts and principles. Can I risk asking this of him? If I’m wrong, the outcome would be disastrous, not just for me and Jin but for the realm.

“Don’t mention anything to Father. Let me decide.” When she looks ready to protest, I continue, “If all goes to plan, I’ll need your help to leave the island without the Elders’ knowledge—later tonight after the festival. This time, I must go alone. Stay here, as I might need your help,” I lie, wanting to keep her free of danger.

At last, she nods. “Tonight then, I will arrange a lotus to bear you away.”

“Thank you, Sister.”

As I grasp her hand, her fingers close around mine. And though she can’t come with me… for this moment, I no longer feel alone.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

THE WHITE PORCELAIN MASK SHENMING GAVE ME IS painted with black and gold swirls around the eyeholes, a red bruise where my mouth is meant to be. As I lift it from the box and place it over my face, it fits like a second skin—one I can’t wait to tear off.

“I remember when we last went to the festival as a family,” Father says as he stands by the door to my room. “The year before you were taken… your first time attending one. Your mother carried you while I held Dian’s hand, she was singing an old song that you and your sister loved. Such happiness filled me, I was afraid of rousing the envy of the gods.” His face clouds with sudden grief. “I thought I was foolish, but maybe I was wise.”

I drop the mask, gripping his hand firmly. “Don’t fear happiness, Father. Cherish every moment instead.”

“Are you happy, Yining?” His knuckles brush my cheek. “I know things haven’t been easy. That home might not be what you remembered or expected.”

“I was afraid of being a disappointment… that there was no room for me here,” I say in a low voice. “But I was wrong. This is my home, you and Dian are family.”

He hugs me tightly, my head pressed to his chest. Right now, I feel like a child again—not one who was lost, but one who was cherished. “We are always your family.”

We stay like this for a while, until Dian calls for me to hurry. I almost hate myself as my gaze flicks to Father’s waist, to the silver flower ornament that hangs there. A simple matter to cut it from his sash without him knowing, yet my heart wrenches at the thought.

“Father, I have a favor to ask of you,” I say haltingly.

“What is it, Yining?” He smiles almost indulgently, maybe imagining a request of new clothes, a book, or a special dish? Simple things that a daughter might ask of a father… not the key to the kingdom’s treasury.

“Whether you agree or not, Father—I ask you to keep this matter between us.”

A slight frown appears, the first glimmer of unease. “Of course.”

I swallow, pushing through my hesitation. “I need to borrow your ornament, Father. The one you’re wearing now—”

“This isn’t just a decoration, Yining.” His fingers brush it. “This is a mark of my position as the Master of Rare Harvests. It is of great importance.”

“I know, Father,” I say carefully. “That is exactly why I need it.”

His expression sharpens, growing alert. It stings to have him look at me this way. “Why?”

“I can’t say more.” As Father’s face shutters, I add somberly, “This is a grave matter concerning the safety of our realm. No harm will come to anyone, at least, not the innocent.”

Silence falls as we stare at one another. In Father’s gaze, emotions war—I’m growing afraid that I must stop him from going to the Elders. Outside, the magnolia tree rustles, a delicate fragrance slipping through the open window though it’s winter. The tension between us loosens, unexpected tears springing into my eyes. My father’s lips move silently… like he’s speaking to someone I can neither see nor hear. Then slowly, he unfastens the knot of the ornament and presses it into my hand.

My fingers close around it, crumpling the silk tassel. “Thank you, Father. If anyone asks… say I stole it.”