Her aura undulated like storm-ridden waves, her hunger for violence stamped on her face, glowing as bright as a sword from the forge. “You are an arrogant fool to come here. Today, I will avenge my dead children. Today, your father and mother shall weep over your body. Today, they will taste unimaginable loss and live the greatest nightmare of any parent.”

Terror spiked through me, yet I forced myself to meet her gaze. “No, Lady Xihe. You have not earned my death. It would be dishonorable to strike me when I came to you in good faith.”

“A simple formality, one easily rectified. Run. I will hunt you down, and then my vengeance will be complete.” A carved silver handle appeared in her hand, from which coils of flame sprang forth—the same weapon that had wrenched such agonized cries from the phoenix.

My throat constricted, my mouth going dry. “The Mortal Realm was in danger. My father—”

“Murdered my children!” she cried wrathfully. “Reasons have no place or meaning here.” Light rippled in her eyes like molten metal. “I have just one daughter left. Now I will take one life—yours—for the nine who were slain. A pitiful exchange, yet it will suffice.” As she raised her hand, the ropes of flame writhed like snakes.

Sweat broke out over my skin, cold and damp. Her power was immense; I could not fight her alone. I might make it beyond the grove to where Wenzhi waited, we could challenge her together … although that would not earn us the feather. I fought to preserve a veil of calm, for revealing my fear might feed her rage, inflame her bloodlust—and set us on a path from which there would be no return.

“Will it ease your pain to kill me? Will it bring your children back?” I spoke quickly to hide the quiver in my voice. “I did you no wrong. If you hurt me, I will fight back, and I am no weakling. Even should you take my life, it will not end there. My family and friends will seek vengeance. You have one daughter left, would you risk her too? What if she was to grow up motherless, after losing her siblings?”

Her gaze shifted to the stairway behind her, perhaps where her child slept. A low blow, to strike at a mother’s terror. How I despised these vile threats, but I hoped they would give her pause, stem her vengeance, steer her from the exquisite temptation of killing me. Far too much blood had already been shed.

“I did not come to anger or hurt you,” I said quietly. “A common enemy threatens us all, and the feather is our only hope. Will you give it to us?”

“I will never give anything to you. I do not care what happens to the world.” Yet her tone hitched with a note of uncertainty.