My teeth caught my lip as a selfish dread consumed me. I would have been glad to see the last of the Celestial Court. Happiness seemed an elusive prospect, trapped beneath the censorious judgment of Their Celestial Majesties, bound to a duty that did not call to me. I had no loyalty to the Celestial Kingdom. What did I care for the power that came alongside royalty, the chance to leave your mark on the realm, to mold it to your beliefs? I would choose a flowering forest or a tranquil shore over all the banquets in heaven.

Yet Liwei’s heritage was an integral part of him, interwoven with his identity, honor, and pride. The emperor and empress were his family, the only one he had. I could not ask him to give them up, not even at the price of my happiness.

“I will tell him.” I glanced at the woman, hoping she would leave so I could speak freely. As the Keeper turned toward the mortal town, I discarded caution. “Honored Keeper, I have a private matter I wish to seek your advice on.”

His gnarled fingers stroked his beard. “I trust Leiying, my apprentice, in all matters.”

Did he desire a witness to our meeting? I dared not imagine what the emperor might do should he discover my father was alive. I had to tread cautiously.

“Is the elixir the only way for a mortal to become immortal?” I kept my tone light as though this were idle curiosity.

“Yes.”

My heart sank though I expected no less; it was as General Jianyun had said. “How might one obtain the elixir?” The question came out too quickly, my urgency unmistakable.

His gaze shuttered. “Why do you ask?”

How easy it would be to use Liwei’s name to gain the Keeper’s compliance. He had been his student far longer, their bond went deep—yet I could not choke the lie out. I could not risk harming Liwei’s reputation further, inflaming his father’s suspicions should the Keeper report our conversation.

“I can’t say,” I admitted. “Though it is important to me.”

“Such information cannot be freely shared.”

I clasped my hands, resisting the urge to plead. What did pride matter when weighed against my father’s life? Though from the set of the Keeper’s face, it would be futile. Before I could speak, the woman shook her head, flicking her eyes toward the bamboo grove in an unmistakable invitation. Hope flared. As the Keeper’s apprentice, she might have the information I sought and be more willing to share it. There would be a price, undoubtedly—but less onerous than others had demanded of me before.

I bowed to the Keeper again, concealing my eagerness. “Honored Teacher, thank you for your guidance.”

“Xingyin, these are strange and uncertain times,” he said gravely. “Be careful. Watch over His Highness.”

“Always,” I replied.