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“To destroy her first?” Jin interjects.
“Yes.” Prince Zixin’s pupils glint like the cursed iron of his kingdom. He doesn’t utter this with the festering hunger for vengeance, but the grim dread of an unwelcome task.
The moon is a luminous wedge in the dark as we halt for the night, a long way past the Pearl Ocean border, though it’s still half a day’s ride to the shoreline. It’s warmer here, akin to late spring or summer in the Iron Mountains. By the river, where our horses graze and drink, I wash my face and neck, resisting the urge to bathe more fully. Dinner is dried fruit and stale bread that tastes like paper, but I don’t miss a meal if there’s food in my hand. Beside me, Dian is already asleep, one arm flung across the Sun Dragon’s crate, guarding him even in slumber. Jin is speaking with Captain Hong, while Prince Zixin is lying down surrounded by soldiers. As he turns on his side, his eyes meet mine—bleak as a starless night. I shift away, staring into the sky. The Prince of the Iron Mountains and I are set on different paths. It would be ruinous should they collide once more, should he ever regain his hold over me.
Sleeps comes easily, anxiety succumbing to exhaustion—though it feels like only moments later when Dian rouses me. The sun is bright as I smooth my tangled hair, drinking the cup of water she offered.
“The ocean is several hours’ ride away,” Shenming informs our group. “We have three days until the waterfall appears; we must find its exact location soon.”
My heart sinks as I look at the Sun Dragon lying in his crate, a frail shadow of the shining creature from my childhood memory. His magic churns restlessly within—impatient to be reunited with its true owner. Soon, I tell it silently.
Prince Zixin stalks toward us from the river. He has changed, his white brocade robe as fine as those he used to wear in the Palace of Nine Hills, his hair pulled into a topknot. He looks like the fairy-tale prince from the night of his banquet—a jagged shard of memory.
“You dress your prisoners exceedingly well, Lord Jin-Yong,” Dian observes with a scowl.
“These robes are a gift,” Jin replies. “A betrothal gift that I hope His Highness will put to good use.”
Dian laughs. “How devious—ridding yourself of a rival and securing a potential ally.”
Jin’s eyebrows arch. “We are far from allies. Though I wish to see His Highness well settled.”
“To be married, far away?” the prince asks sardonically, reaching us. “To challenge my sister?”
“Both. And so, you will not covet what isn’t yours,” Jin replies.
Shenming frowns. “Releasing the prince could give rise to another enemy for our realm. You just want him gone from Thorn Valley.”
“Yes,” Jin agrees. “It is dangerous for my people to imprison the Prince of the Iron Mountains indefinitely, a target for his sister’s wrath. His presence goads the queen like a thorn in her heel. We need to draw her ire elsewhere.”
“I’m not your pawn,” Prince Zixin says angrily.
“You asked this of us,” Jin replies. “I agreed, not because I trust you, but because your ambitions align with ours. Do not betray us; we are your only choice. Your sister wants you dead.”
Jin has analyzed everything with keen precision. If the prince remains in the Pearl Ocean, chasing his ambitions from there, it will draw Queen Chunlei away from Thorn Valley and Mist Island.
“I have fulfilled my obligation to lead you safely to the Pearl Ocean. Our bargain is ended,” the prince declares, turning to me. “Give me the antidote.”
“Not yet,” I tell him. “We can’t risk you leaving until our task is complete. After that, you will be free as agreed.”
The prince’s face darkens, then his mouth parts in a bitter smile. “Very well, since you desire my company longer.”
“We should reach the shoreline this afternoon,” Shenming says.
“To avoid delays, we should try to avoid an encounter with the Lady of the Pearl Ocean. She may detain us if she grows suspicious,” Jin advises Shenming. They speak more easily now, as though forgetting who they are.
We ride for hours without rest, the slopes blunting to grassy plains. Ahead, the path is obscured by dense bracken and plants. A cloying smell wafts through, reminding me of the incense burned in Mist Island’s temples, but sweeter. As the rush of waves grows louder, a salt-tinged breeze sweeps over us.
Stepping out from the trees, we tread upon soft sands. The water is dazzling, the rays of the sun breaking across the waves like a shattered mirror. Amid the fragments of brightness are patches of green, like jade—just as pictured in my mind when I collapsed, the moment the stars began to move.
Seven mother-of-pearl bridges arch over the waters, converging upon the gleaming shore. In the distance, the silhouettes of several islands and buildings emerge, the largest at the far end of the middle bridge, looming above the rest.
I stiffen, a tingling sweeping through my veins. My head swims, drowned in dizziness, as a faint tug draws me onward. Does the dragon’s magic sense the waterfall?
Jin takes my arm. “Are you all right, Yining?”
“East. Out at sea,” I say slowly, trying to sift through the tangle of sensations.
But then footsteps thud from the distance, our soldiers reaching for their weapons. As I snap from my daze, dozens of guards are running along the bridges—headed our way.
