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“The advisor should consult with his lord on such important matters.” Prince Zixin speaks with a thinly veiled contempt that grates on me.

“Lord Chao entrusted me, in his absence, with the power to speak on his behalf,” Jin replies, an edge in his tone.

“Very well.” Prince Zixin smiles tersely. “In place of the starfire, I offer a far more precious jewel: my sister. A marriage between our families, to cement our alliance for generations to come.”

Princess Chunlei stands abruptly, her hands clasped before her, her face pale. My heart wrenches at the realization this must be her worst nightmare, to be traded for her brother’s gain. “Honored Brother, let us discuss this matter in private.”

Many of the guests are looking at her and whispering, some shaking their heads in apparent disapproval of the prince’s offer. General Xilu remains silent, but his expression reminds me of when he’d drawn his fist back and struck my face.

“We can speak here, Sister.” Prince Zixin’s eyes glint like shards of onyx. He is ruthless, even to his own kin. “A union between yourself and Lord Chao would be highly advantageous—not just to you, but to our kingdom.”

I think of the buffoonish Lord Chao, who seems to care for little but food and wine. Even if he’s as good a fighter as Jin claims, I wouldn’t want to marry him either—to be sent away, so far from home. But all Prince Zixin weighs is the gain to himself and his kingdom; his sister’s misery is a price he’s willing to pay.

Princess Chunlei casts a beseeching look at her brother, but he stares back stonily. I want to assure her that she’s in no danger, that neither Jin nor Lord Chao would want someone from the Iron Mountains in their domain. But I can’t set myself against the prince—not yet.

“We are honored by the proposal, Your Highness. However, Lord Chao is not seeking a bride at the moment,” Jin says carefully.

“Return and discuss this with your lord.” Prince Zixin’s tone is impatient.

Jin’s eyes are dangerously bright as he dips his head in the barest incline. “I will. After Your Highness’s coronation.”

Prince Zixin leans back against his chair. “Of course. Thorn Valley is our honored guest. The coronation will take place in four days, on the auspicious date chosen by the astrologers.”

So soon? My heart almost stops. I take a candied strawberry and chew it to distract myself from the fear pulsing through me, teetering on despair.

All attention has shifted back to the combatants: Prince Zixin’s expression is cold, his sister’s tense, and Jin’s carefully blank. The fight is winding down, both sides tiring. One has a clear advantage: stronger, larger, more heavily muscled. The smaller one is quicker, and I find myself rooting for him—though he’s tiring fast, each blow he suffers worse than those he inflicts. His opponent is the crowd favorite, swaggering as though victory is already his. Without warning, he charges forward, hurtling against the smaller one—but his opponent evades, swinging around to seize him by his neck, locking it in his elbow. The taller warrior grunts as he kicks to get free—but the other clings tight, flinching from each attack.

Only once he’s proclaimed the victor does the smaller fighter release his grip. He weaves on his feet, blood trickling into his eyes from a deep gash on his forehead. Silence falls over the stunned crowd; many will have lost their bets today. The warrior strides forward to accept his prize with his head held high. His victory is unexpected, tasting twice as sweet—just as losing is twice as bitter for the defeated.

As the winner is crowned, applause breaks out. Blood trickles from the victor’s wounds, his expression dazed but triumphant. Leaning forward, I clap till my palms sting. I don’t care about endangering myself for glory; I have the heart of a thief not a hero. But like this fighter, I’ll need to defy the odds, to risk everything for a chance at winning it all.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

T he next day, Daiyu comes to see me in my room. Maybe I’ve been allowed visitors again after telling the prince what he wants to hear.

A kitchen attendant, one I’ve never seen before, has just brought a tray of tea, with walnut pastries, melon jelly, and some sugared fruit. Someone must have told Cook Feng how many I’d eaten the day before when I was trying to distract myself. I push the dish away, my stomach roiling at the sight.

“You have the best food.” Daiyu smiles as she sits by the table, fingering the thin iron chain around her neck.

“Cook Feng is generous.”

“Only to those he favors.” She takes a grape and eats it, wiping the grains of sugar on a handkerchief. “I should visit you more often, especially during meals.”

I laugh. “I’d be glad for the company.”

“Are you happy to be back?” she asks. “Or did you prefer the trees of the Amber Forest to our courtyards? The company of the handsome advisor from Thorn Valley?” She grins as she says the last.

I don’t hesitate. “Of course, I’m glad. There is no place like the Palace of Nine Hills.” While I like Daiyu, while she’s been kind to me, I’m taking no chances. Betrayal isn’t always rooted in malice; it could be a slip of the tongue, an unthinking comment.

“Were you afraid to travel with the Thorn Valley soldiers? They appear brutish and uncouth—except for the advisor.”

“They kept to themselves most of the time,” I reply. “There wasn’t much opportunity for conversation, we had to travel at a quick pace.”

“I don’t envy Princess Chunlei’s fate, to be married off there. And what if some of us must follow her to Thorn Valley?” Daiyu asks with a shudder.

I sense the princess wouldn’t want to be pitied, nor would she force anyone to accompany her. She left the moment the banquet ended yesterday, her head held high. “It’s not been decided yet. Maybe Lord Chao will decline or His Highness will change his mind.”

“Why would Lord Chao refuse? It is a great honor to be offered our future king’s only sister as a bride. Moreover, Her Highness is beautiful, kind, and gracious.”