The empress’s hands clenched on the table. She knew I spoke the truth, perhaps she had suspected it herself but not given it voice. Our worst fears were those we most wanted to silence.

I pressed on. “With the soldiers under his command, Wugang could strike at any moment. He is both ruthless and cunning; he won’t let this opportunity pass. How long can your guards protect Liwei? Can they stand against the Celestial Army?” I leaned across the table, close enough to see my reflection in her eyes. “Help me get him out.”

She did not reply. I could almost hear the scales in the empress’s mind weighing the tallies, calculating how to swing this to her advantage. She wanted to save her son, but she would not let me off unscathed.

“Why do I need you?” she demanded.

How she despised the very idea. Yet this question was more than spite—a tool to make me plead for her aid, to turn me into the supplicant. There was little need for that; I would promise her anything I could, for I needed her too.

“The great Celestial Empress should do nothing to risk her position.” I kept my expression blank, masking the contempt in my words. “You don’t want to oppose your husband openly. Help me and I will get Liwei away, while you remain blameless.”

As her pupils gleamed brighter, I continued, “We both want him to be safe. We want the same thing.”

“We do not,” she seethed.

A mistake, to speak of us together. She would hate the association; she would think it beneath her.

Her nails dug into the table, carving fresh marks on the pitted wood. “I want him to rule the Celestial Kingdom as the most powerful monarch across the realms—his name revered by immortals and mortals from the moment their tongues form words till they fall silent in death. I want him to become the greatest immortal who ever lived, while you just want him for yourself. You will diminish him, as you already have—before his father, the court, and the realm.”

I shook my head. “I never asked him to give up anything for me.”

“Yet you would have let him turn his back on his position, his heritage and family.” A cruel smile lit her face. “You would not be happy though. Liwei is not meant for the type of life you crave. My son is used to greatness, to being adulated and revered. His heart is soft; he would not outwardly blame you, but know this—you, alone, will never be enough for him. Dissatisfaction would sink in, morphing into resentment. And finally … hate.”