“Without Xingyin, I doubt you could have.”

“Enough.” I glared at them. “My father has returned. Do not ruin this occasion.”

A brief silence before Wenzhi bent his head. “If anyone could bring a mortal back from the dead, it would be you.”

“The Black Dragon was mistaken; Father was not dead. If he was, no elixir in the realm could have restored him.”

Liwei did not look at me, nor did he speak. He must think me heartless, to speak so familiarly to Wenzhi. To him, Wenzhi was the Demon who had infiltrated his kingdom, tried to destroy his army, and captured me. I would never forget that—just as I could not forget the times he had come to my aid, and the circumstances that had set him along this path. With Wenzhi, the good and bad were woven so tight, it was impossible to pick them apart—a confounding knot of our past and present, all he had been to me and what he was now.

“We must leave,” I said firmly. “With Liwei’s escape, the emperor might summon the other kingdoms to aid in his search. Word will reach Queen Suihe soon.”

“The queen will look to the safety of her own people, as any monarch should,” Liwei said. “She would not hesitate to surrender us to gain any advantage.”

My mother paled. “Where can we go?”

“My home is open to you,” Wenzhi offered. “No Celestial will set foot in the Cloud Wall.”

“No Celestial would want to,” Liwei said with distaste.

Wenzhi surveyed him coldly. “You are welcome to remain here. I would prefer it if you did.”

“No, not the Cloud Wall,” I interjected. Even if Wenzhi wanted to protect us, would he be able to from his family?

“The Eastern Sea,” my father said. “The dragons will keep us safe.”

Though the dragons were no longer bound to the pearls, they still bore great respect and affection for my father. Their wisdom would be invaluable, even though they could not fight the Celestial Army.

“The Eastern Sea is allied to the Celestial Kingdom,” I said carefully. “Will it be safe?”

“They will not countermand the dragons’ wishes,” Wenzhi assured me. “They revere them greatly.”

“Will we bring trouble to them with our presence?” I asked.

“In times as these, there is no perfect solution,” my father said decisively. “We must make hard choices, do what we think is right, and not regret the consequences.”

As a leader of mortal armies, my father must have had to make such impossible decisions every day, those that ate at his conscience. How many soldiers had he sent to their deaths? How many families had been broken? No war came without a cost, and the highest price was often paid by those who had the least.