The nights were the hardest, for the shadows that enveloped me stretched longer, thickening until the darkness was all I saw. I tossed in bed, inhaling great gulps of air laced with the fragrance of spring, though there was nothing but winter in my heart. A longing consumed me whenever I thought of my home. My mother and father did not come to the Celestial Kingdom, perhaps because they wanted to be alone after all they had endured. Perhaps they had too many unsettling recollections of this place, of the gossip and spite, the secrets and lies. I understood how my parents felt, because I loathed it too.

The favor Liwei showed me fanned the boundless speculation that a betrothal was imminent. He did not speak of it to me, nor did I ask. Whenever I tried to imagine my future, my chest would cramp, wrenched with unspeakable longing. The threat of Wugang had clouded my future once, yet it was nothing to these torments I now faced—for this was a battle I could not win, an enemy I could not fight. For these demons … came from within. My only solace was when Shuxiao was with me, although she was leaving soon to return to her family. Everyone was moving on to seek their own happiness. Everyone except—

I shoved the ungrateful thought aside. It was a miracle that I was alive, to be surrounded by those I cared for. Yet why did I feel so empty inside?

On Shuxiao’s last evening, we shared a meal together. It was just like we used to, except for the pair of attendants standing behind me. They lurched to attention whenever I so much as cleared my throat, their eyes constantly darting up to check that our cups and plates were filled. When I gently suggested that they leave, they exchanged such aggrieved looks, I could not insist.

I sighed, my head beginning to ache from the weight of gold and jade ornaments in my hair, the ones I let my attendant adorn me with. I went through my days in a state of apathy, not caring what I wore or did—with no desire for anything that had once brought me pleasure, whether music, food, or wine. I found myself thinking of the Celestial Empress more, and if she could live her life over, whether she would have chosen differently. I would never know these answers … and perhaps neither did she.

Shuxiao frowned as she placed a piece of braised beef on my plate. A pile of stir-fried beans and shrimp followed, along with a plump wedge of fish steamed in ginger and wine.

“Why aren’t you eating?” she asked. “Are you disappointed that a wedding date hasn’t been set? Or worried the emperor might not give his permission?”

I lifted my cup, draining it in one gulp, the wine burning a path down my throat. “Maybe I should be alone,” I said listlessly.