“It could be forever.” Despair writhed in my gut, burrowing deep. The emperor had done this to my mother and to the dragons, their punishment dragging on indefinitely without a chance for clemency. Our names would be buried, forgotten, as the years flew by—becoming no more than another cautionary tale of defiance against the Celestial Emperor.

“Some tried to argue on your mother’s behalf. Chang’e had never failed in the performance of her duty before; it must have been an innocent slip.” General Jianyun’s face darkened. “But others twisted our words, arguing that her unprecedented lapse that day, on His Celestial Majesty’s birthday, must have been intentional. Some took it further, claiming the insult to His Celestial Majesty was treason to weaken his standing, embolden his dissenters, and bring misfortune to his reign.”

“They think too highly of us. It was just a harmless mistake.”

“No mistake is ‘harmless’ in the Jade Palace. Particularly none which earns the emperor’s wrath,” Shuxiao said.

“What will you do?” General Jianyun asked.

“How many soldiers? When are they coming?” I made myself ask.

Shuxiao’s face darkened. “Over a hundred. They will come today or tomorrow, at the latest.”

“A hundred?” I repeated numbly. Did they expect us to fight? This was no invitation to yield but a troop sent to subdue an enemy and to seize what would not be surrendered. A year ago, Celestial soldiers had stood by me and now … they were marching upon my home.

My deepest fear, my worst nightmare, come to life.

“I can’t let them take us.” I spoke on instinct.

A brief silence followed, before General Jianyun cleared his throat. “What of the laurel?”

“They can have it if they leave us in peace.” Rash words spoken with a child’s terror, offering a futile bargain to delay inevitable punishment.

“In the wrong hands, who knows what the laurel can be used to do,” General Jianyun argued. “While we don’t understand its power, neither can we ignore it.”

“How can we fight them? Not just because we’re outnumbered, but the soldiers helped me once.” I was sickened by the thought of attacking those I had fought alongside before.

“The Celestial Army is not what it used to be.” General Jianyun’s tone was heavy. “The soldiers who came to your defense that day have been sidelined, their loyalties cast in doubt. Many have left, and the ones who remained were sent to distant borders.”

Their support of me had cost them dearly. A simple gesture rooted in gratitude, yet striking a keen blow to the Celestial Emperor’s pride. It had been one of the greatest moments of my life, and now it was tainted with guilt.