She gathered the sunbird tenderly in her arms, striding away without a backward glance. The doors closed after her, the wind chime quivering in a mournful melody. Though they had gone, along with their light, darkness was kept at bay by the blaze of the feather before me. I reached out to take it, halting, as the heat surged forth in shimmering waves, as though its full might had been unleashed only after it had been plucked. I wove a shell of hardened air around it, then slipped it into my pouch. The enchantment would not hold, the heat already thawing the barrier—a strain to keep it intact, yet preferable to being burnt to cinders.

Sinking onto my heels, I trembled from the emotions colliding within me—relief layered with remorse, sunken by a bone-deep weariness. I was not so presumptuous as to think Lady Xihe had forgiven us; these wounds went too deep. But perhaps we had come to an understanding of sorts, and I hoped with all my heart that mother and child might find their happiness again.

Chapter 27

I healed my wounds as well as I could, though my body still ached from the ordeal. Only then did I leave the grove, the wings of the entrance closing after me, the carved feathers weaving together into a tight embrace. Wenzhi was pacing outside, alone—the tautness in his expression easing at the sight of me.

“Has Liwei not returned?” I asked.

As Wenzhi shook his head, light flared from my pouch, a sudden heat scorching me. The enchantment around the feather was weakening. I thrust my hand into my pouch, my thumb brushing the scalding surface of the sphere, my energy flowing to seal the fractures. Despite the warmth which permeated this place, a shiver ran through my flesh. I sank onto the ground, almost trembling from exhaustion.

Wenzhi shrugged off his outer robe, draping it over my shoulders. My eyes darted up to meet his, my face flushing against my will. I looked away, at his robe instead, a dark gray silk embroidered with clouds. A memory drifted into my mind of the last time he had done this—on the rooftop of the Jade Palace when we had pledged ourselves to each other … before his treachery tore us apart.

Never again, I swore to myself, discarding his robe. We were allies now, friends, perhaps—but no matter these uncertain murmurings of my heart, I would never allow myself to be his pawn again. Trust, once broken, was impossible to restore; the cracks remained even when glazed anew.

Wenzhi’s eyes were a forbidding gray. “Did Lady Xihe hurt you?”

As another wave of heat slipped free from the orb, I winced. “No, it’s the feather. It burns.”

“Let me help.”