“The first bow to Heaven and Earth,” the marriage official cried out.

As I folded over, the weight of my headdress dipped precariously forward. As I quickly raised myself, the official continued, “The second bow to the parents and ancestors.”

As we turned to King Wenming, I was glad for the veil to hide my strained expression as we bowed. I had made excuses for my own parents’ absence, for I would give the king no more weapons against me.

The official cleared his throat. “The final bow to each other,” he called out, with the barest quiver in his voice.

This was the act that would bind us together for eternity. I should have positioned myself to face Wenzhi, but something in me refused to move as though I had been transformed to stone. As the guests began to murmur at the delay, Wenzhi placed his hand over mine, his thumb brushing my palm.

“Trust me,” he whispered from under his breath.

I did not. At least, not wholly. Yet something in the intensity of his tone jolted me into movement, giving me the strength to turn toward him. This was not the time to waver. Through the veil, I made out the hem of his scarlet robe, the gleaming embroidery sewn on the cloth. His aura, so close to me, flared fierce and cool, steady and strong. As sweat slicked my hands, I fought the urge to wipe them on the priceless brocade of my skirt. I was trembling as befitted the image of a docile bride, as I bent my neck—

A gale burst through the pavilion, rustling silk and satin, the scents of azaleas and camellias springing into the air as the carpet of petals was swept high. Gasps broke out from the guests—some delighted, others surprised and irate. As my veil flared up, I caught a glimpse of the petals that rained down like a fragrant storm, brushing my bared skin with a feathery softness. One of the king’s consorts swept a fan before his face to shield him, which he pushed aside with an impatient wave. And then Wenzhi was already lifting his head as he rose with deliberate emphasis—while I let my veil fall back into place and straightened as though I was rising from a bow that I had not made.

The rite was unfinished, the ritual meaningless. We were not wed.

I steeled myself for cries of outrage, for a sharp command to complete the ceremony. Yet there was none. Somehow, it had worked, Liwei’s enchantment having bought us a precious moment of deception.

“The three bows are performed, the ceremony is complete. May the couple find everlasting happiness together,” the official called out eagerly. “Raise the veil.”

The satin covering was pulled gently from my face. I blinked against the sudden brightness, my eyes meeting Wenzhi’s, the pale hue of sunlight in winter.