"The Red Child was a fearless demon and can be said to be the evil counterpart of Nezha. He rides wheels of fire and breathes the flames of three realms that cannot be extinguished even by the water of the Four Seas. It was no wonder the Iron Princess refused to lend Wukong her Plantain Fan, for he murdered her son."

The Red Child—The Tome of Evil

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

A thousand emotions roiled within me—betrayal, anger, and ultimately, confusion.

I had come to the Jade Palace with hopes of freeing my family but walked into an intricate web of internal affairs and plots. If I stayed with Wulin, I could end slavery. Children, especially little girls, wouldn't have to suffer anymore. The rotten marketplace where humans were auctioned off like property would be torn down, brothels burned into ashes, and the vile creatures involved in selling people would face justice. People like Miya wouldn't have to die for an arbitrary sense of honor and justice.

All of those could be accomplished, at the expense of Zichuan Theater.

Staring at myself in the mirror as Ara, my new handmaiden, bustled around me, adding more silver pins into my hair and touching up my makeup, I felt more ashamed than ever. I could leave and never come back. I had a thousand faces I could change into. No one could catch me.

Yet, I was still here at the crown prince's side on my own selfish quest.

Three months was almost over. Our wedding was to take place before the trial, but the coronation would come after. If I killed Wulin before the trial, I would not be crowned Empress. But if I killed Wulin, I'd be able to free Zichuan Theater, but I'd still be a powerless crown princess.

"You're all set, my lady," Ara said, jerking me from my thoughts. "My, aren't you stunning!"

Even the gorgeous dress I was wearing failed to lift my spirits. It was a simple dress of spun silver threads and sapphires that glowed like a million luminescent eyes. One of the Imperial Tailor's best examples of his handiwork.

I turned to Wanru. "Come with me. I want you by my side."

"Are you sure?" Wanru asked. "I doubt Shila would be too happy to see me with you."

"Don't worry about Shila. I'll protect you." I nodded at Ara. "You may leave now."

"Have fun at the banquet, my lady." Ara curtsied and left.

Wulin came into my chamber minutes later garbed in a splendid robe of black embroidered with dancing silver cranes. His eyes twinkled. "Are you ready?"

I nodded and placed my hand in his offered one. "Wanru is coming with me."

"Are you hoping her presence will provoke Shila?" he asked. "If so, you're in for a treat."

"I just feel safer when she is with me."

"I can keep you safe," Wulin huffed.

"It's different," I said. "Women need women allies."

Wulin huffed again but allowed Wanru to trail behind us.

The soldiers, guards, maids, and generals bowed as we passed them toward the Pearl Hall. Gone were the brilliant decorations of Mid-Autumn Festival. In its place were queer ornaments that flaunted the ways of another nation and culture. Lavender and silver ribbons hung from the ceiling, offering a wintery scene. Banners written in a foreign script dangled from the walls. In the middle of the hall stood a great arch made from plaited wood and leaves. But the throne was empty.

"Where is the Emperor?" I asked Wulin.

"Father is sick. The Imperial Physician has cautioned him against going out while his body is still weak."

Although Wulin talked casually about his father's health, I sensed a different implication. The Emperor was dying, that was why the coronation tailed our wedding. Under normal circumstances, the Imperials tended to keep major events and celebrations spaced, but Wulin was impatient. He'd achieved his goals—the Emperor ultimately decided to make him Emperor because of me, the only thing standing in the way of him marrying Wulin to Shila. The people loved us, and our stories circulated wildly, even reaching the outskirts of Erden where I used to call home.

"I see," I said, numb.

Wulin and I took our seats. Wanru stood next to me with her hands folded before her stomach, like all slaves did on duty.

Trumpets sounded. Shila entered the hall, accompanied by a man so tall, he towered over everyone else in the room. Like Shila, he was fair. His eyes were winter blue, and he had a pinched look on his face. He was dressed in long, sweeping black robes where golden runes, just like those on the banners outside, were stitched to the hem and the sleeves. The man was as bald as a bronze mirror, but intricate black tattoos covered his entire scalp. He looked more like a demon than Shila.

"Who is he?" I whispered to Wulin, watching the man sweep ever so gracefully onto the raised platform.

"He's a White Priest from Zmerkï," Wulin said.

"Why is he here?"

"Shila wants a ceremony following her culture and traditions. The least we could do is to honor her wishes."

The princess and the White Priest exchanged words in their language. The White Priest nodded, then walked toward the table next to the platform. He picked up a large white feather and a silver bowl of water.

He began chanting in the Zmerkïn tongue. I looked on, intrigued, as the White Priest motioned for Shila to kneel.

I nudged Wulin. "Do you understand their language?"

"Yes. I started learning it when I was three."

"What's he saying?"

"Something about their gods, and a prayer that they would guide her through womanhood and whatever challenges thrown at her in the future."

The White Priest dipped the feather into the bowl and sprinkled its contents over Shila's head.

Everyone in the hall looked visibly uncomfortable at the White Priest and his tattoos. The women were fidgeting, while the men had their hands on the hilts of their swords, ready to draw them at any given moment. However, even if the White Priest and Shila sensed the hostility in the room, they didn't react.

The White Priest leaned forward and whispered something into Shila's ear. The princess nodded and stood up.

"It is done," the White Priest spoke in Erdenese, but his words were marred by his queer accent. "She is now a woman."

Wulin put his hands together and clapped. There was a pause as the whole hall stared at Wulin. Then, everyone started clapping.

"Erden does not like foreign influence," Wulin said. "To some of the nobility, Shila is a demon."

It was beyond obvious. The White Priest stepped off the platform and walked toward the crowd. The people scattered at once, as though the man was exuding a repelling aura. The White Priest lifted a pitcher of wine off the table and walked toward our table.

"You must be the crown prince," he addressed Wulin. "Säleem."

"Säleem," Wulin replied. "Thank you for accepting our invitation."

"It's my honor and duty. I serve the Gods and my nation."

The man then turned to face me. His stare was cold, and he was smiling a bit too radiantly. A phantom shiver tickled the back of my neck.

"You must be Lady Qara of the Tenth Province," he said. "I have heard so much about you from Shila."

"Good things, I hope," I said.

The White Priest continued smiling. "Good things."

He held out the pitcher of wine to me. "In Zmerkï, it is customary for the host to toast to the person of age. Would you do me the honor and bless our princess?"

I glanced at Wulin. He nodded.

"It would be my pleasure."

Wulin signaled at Wanru, who balanced us a tray holding two goblets. I poured the wine, took the goblets, and walked toward Shila, who was still standing under the ceremonial arch.

"Princess Shila," I said. "I am here to bless you."

Shila snorted. "I don't need your blessings."

I handed a goblet to Shila. "I insist."

The princess rolled her eyes and took the goblet. "If it wasn't for the fact that my White Priest talked you into giving me a toast, I would have smashed this goblet into a million pieces."

I faced the crowd in the hall and raised my goblet. "To Princess Shila. May she become a wise and honorable woman and bring pride upon Erden and Zmerkï."

Shila downed the goblet in one gulp and handed it back to me. "If you have nothing else to say, you can leave. This is my banquet, I don't want you here."

Her face was pale, even paler than normal. Black striations crawled up her neck and extended toward her face. It wasn't conspicuous at first, it could be a trick of shadows, a play of light, but it blossomed like an ugly poisonous flower across her skin.

"What are you staring at?" Shila snapped.

The words wouldn't come. I could only stare as Shila started choking, then fell to the ground, convulsing and spitting foam at the mouth.

"She poisoned my princess!" The White Priest screamed and dashed to Shila's side, cradling her head and sobbing. "She's poisoned!"

Wulin dashed toward me and dragged me away from Shila. "Get the Imperial Physician!" he shouted. "NOW!"

The hall erupted into chaos. Gasps of shock filled the air. The White Priest glared at me with blood-shot eyes. "You poisoned her." He then whirled on Wanru. "You and your mistress planned this. You've poisoned the princess of Zmerkï!"

Wanru fell to her knees. "Help us, your majesty. Lady Qara and I are innocent!"

I clasped Wulin's hand. "You have to believe me, I didn't poison Shila. You know me, I would never kill anyone."

"Murderer!" the White Priest continued to scream. "This woman is an impostor and a murderer!"

The doors of the hall were thrown open. The Imperial Physician rushed up to Shila and checked her pulse. Shila jerked and fought, her eyes rolling back in her head.

At first, there was the astounding silence of disbelief—disbelief that the prized escort of Wulin would poison the Imperial Ward. In their eyes, I was a saint, a giver, a woman with not a single bone of spite in her body. Yet, they were willing to believe anything they see, although blissfully ignorant of what had truly happened.

They joined in the White Priest's cries of accusation, growing louder and angrier.

Lock her up. Lock her up. Lock her up.

"Please," I begged Wulin. "I didn't even want to toast Shila."

Wulin's eyes were wet. "I know. But they don't believe you."

He nodded at the guards. They grabbed Wanru and me by the wrist and dragged us out of the hall.

We struggled and cried, but our efforts were futile.

I had built a kingdom of trust. Both the nobility and the commoners had their faith in me. I realized this faith was as fragile as porcelain. One small crack and the entire foundation would shatter into a thousand pieces. I'd believed with my status and power as the crown prince's escort, I was invincible.

This power is just a façade—easily ripped away and replaced.

Lock her up. Lock her up. Lock her up.

The last thing I saw before the darkness of the dungeons consumed me was Wulin's crestfallen gaze, the blur of the Great Hall as I was yanked out, and the snicker on the White Priest's face as he carried Shila out of the hall in his arms.

The metal bars of the dungeons closed with a terrible clang, and I tasted blood in my mouth where I had screamed myself hoarse.

All was dark, and all was gone.

#

I huddled in a corner of the cell, drawing my knees up to my chest. My scalpel dug against my chest as I breathed in the stale, nauseating air of the Imperial Dungeons.

After assessing the situation, I was calmer than I'd expected. Unlike my former mortal self, I was in control. I could cut myself easily out of the chains binding me to the ground, slash my way out of the dungeons. My other faces were neatly folded in a thin silk package hidden in my chemise along with my weapon.

But Wanru wasn't half-High Immortal. She was lying on the floor next to me, crying silently.

The promises I had made Wanru now mocked me.

I will keep you safe. Don't worry.

I was the one who insisted she attend the ceremony with me. Had she remained in my bedchamber, she wouldn't be dragged into my mess. This was my doing.

But protecting Wanru was not my only concern. It'd take only a few minutes for me to escape the dungeons, but it would thwart all my plans, everything I'd worked for the past two and a half months wasted. There was no toll of the heavy bells overlooking the palace, nor the guards wearing white robes to honor the passing of an Imperial. Shila must still be alive.

If she was still breathing, it also ensured my survival. I'd be placed on the Imperial trials. Until they have proof I was indeed the person who poisoned Shila, they couldn't execute me.

A torch flared. I threw my hands before my eyes, trying to shield out the sudden burst of light.

The chains dropped from the bars. Bowen's face emerged.

I crawled toward the bars. The Second Prince's expression was grim.

"Fancy seeing you here, Lady Qara."

"We didn't poison Shila. You have to believe me."

"Even if I believed you, what use would that be? Everyone saw Shila drop after drinking wine you handed her."

"Wulin is the crown prince," I said. "Surely, he can grant me amnesty."

Bowen shook his head. "It's not as easy as you think. The Imperial Ward was harmed, and it will jeopardize the harmony between us and Zmerkï. If Shila so much as sends a letter to her brother, the newly crowned King of Zmerkï, their troops will swarm us, and the war we've been trying to prevent for decades will ensue. Wulin must follow protocol or doom us all."

"Wanru has nothing to do with this. Why is she framed as well?"

"She handed you the goblets, and you gave the wine to Shila. The people believe their eyes and not the words of others."

"The White Priest handed me the pitcher. If anything, he should also be the prime suspect."

"No one will believe a White Priest poisoned his own princess. The good news is that Shila lives, but she demands both you and your maid's lives. However, as there was nothing the guards could find in your room that resembled poison, Shila ordered a trial. If you both passed the trial, she will spare your lives."

My heart pounded against my chest like an animal trapped in a cage.

"What kind of trial?"

"She demands a trial of her customs. According to Shila, alleged murderers have a chance of freedom. They need to walk out from a wired pen alive."

"I can do that," I said. "It's just a pen."

"Except the pen will be filled with starved wolves. Both the accuser and the defender will have three arrows each. They can choose to either shoot the wolves or shoot you."

"She wants me to die," I whispered. "No one can survive that."

"Not without help," Bowen said. "Shila will be aiming at you. But Wulin, being your defender will use his three arrows to save you. You need to outsmart the wolves. At the same time, you need to keep your friend safe."

It sounded feasible. I healed fast, and I was stronger than a regular mortal. Hungry wolves didn't pose as much of a threat as protecting Wanru against them. But I musn't show Bowen I had the confidence to survive. When a mortal faced such dire circumstances, they'd tremble and beg for reassurance.

"I-I don't know how." I let my voice wobble as I grasped Bowen's hand, squeezing it so hard, my nails dug into his flesh.

He didn't wince. "My brother and I are going to help you. Wulin's arrows will be tipped with poison. When the trial starts, he will fire one arrow at you. It will be your only weapon. We can only help you so much. The rest will be up to you."

Tears fell from my eyes. "Why are you helping me?"

We were inches apart, holding each other hands. Bowen closed the distance by touching my forehead with his—the greatest sign of affection he had ever displayed outwardly. It took me by surprise, and I stiffened.

"You're the future Empress of Erden. I trust you'll be a just ruler. There's no way I'm going to let you die to a couple of filthy wolves."

"But I'm scared," I whispered.

"It's alright to be scared. A person who does not fear death is a fool."

I released his hand. I'd brushed shoulders with death so many times—the countless beatings, my face charring in a furnace—we could have been friends. Bowen was a pampered boy living in the Jade Palace whose sole threat was to gorge himself to death, but I grew up with death looming over me like a thundercloud. It was my shadow fiend.

No, Bowen. I was not a fool for fearing death. I was a fool for befriending it.

I should've been scared. I remembered how that fear felt. Strangling. Imminent. But what threat did mortal dangers pose against a half-Immortal? I hadn't come so far only to be taken down by a silly princess and wolves.

Bowen placed his hands on my face, keeping me still, gazing into my eyes.

"You can do this. You've survived this long in the Jade Palace, and I tell you, that is a feat."

Staring into his intense eyes, I saw a fury burn within them, one I had never seen before. The fire within him could burn cities, turn rubble into ashes, and set High Immortals ablaze.

"I believe in you," he said.

"Why do you care? I'm just Wulin's puppet."

"I care because you're Qara." He removed a ring from his finger. "And that is enough for me. This belonged to my mother. When I was younger, I had no friends or allies within the palace. All I had was this copper ring. Whenever I was scared or felt as if the whole world was against me, I would kiss this ring and whisper my name." He slid the ring into the index finger of my left hand. "I want you to have it. If you refuse it, you're dishonoring the memory of my mother."

I stroked the smooth band of the worn-out ring. "If your mother was here, I'm sure she would be so proud of you."

Bowen's smile was tired. He squeezed my hand for one last time and stood up.

"The trial is tomorrow. Prepare yourself. Remember, the moment the drums go off, Wulin will fire an arrow at you. Don't be afraid, he won't hit you. Grab the arrow and aim for the other side of the pen. Once you're through the finishing line, you've won."

I held the ring close to my chest and nodded.

"Good luck," he whispered. "Wulin sends his blessings too."

"You two are actually working together?"

He laughed. "The fate of the kingdom is enough reason for me to work with even my greatest nemesis."

The second prince retreated into the darkness, and his footsteps faded.

Wanru crawled toward me and grasped my arm. "Is it true?" she whispered. "Are they going to feed us to the wolves?"

"The princes are going to help us," I said. "We're going to kill the wolves."

"Maybe you can," she said. "But not me. I've never fought anyone my entire life, let alone wild beasts."

I stroked her hand. "I promised that I would take care of you, didn't I? I won't let the wolves near you. To the High Immortals, I swear it."

The tearstains glimmered on her cheeks. "I believe you."

Her words weighed a thousand tons. I couldn't afford to let her down, not for a second time.

I raised the ring to my lips, and I whispered the name of the High Immortal I knew was listening to me.

Donghwa, grant me strength.