Precious seconds were slipping away, the emperor’s soldiers drawing closer. I searched General Jianyun’s face, hoping for guidance—yet he remained silent. Sometimes there were no answers, sometimes we had to make them up as we went along.

Cupping my hands before me, I bent low from my waist. “Thank you for warning us. I apologize for the discourtesy, but it might be safest for you both to depart before the soldiers arrive.”

Lines deepened across General Jianyun’s brow like fingers trailed in the sand. “What will you do?”

I did not answer, my nerves strung taut. All I ever wanted was to be left in peace with my family, and yet all I did plunged us into more danger.

No, my mind whispered. You wanted more than that. You wanted to help the dragons. You defied the emperor by attempting to force his hand. You tried to steal the elixir. Even now you’re trying to think of a way to stop this attack. You were never content to leave things as they were … always wanting more.

Peace does not flow in your veins.

My teeth sank into my lip, tearing at the soft flesh. I had kept quiet before, trying to avoid the emperor’s wrath, foolishly thinking that past grudges would be forgotten in a decade or so. What did I care for the politics of the realm, these shifts of power? Such things were beyond my paltry influence. However, the seeds of betrayal had been sown and its harvest needed to be reaped. The emperor did not trust me, nor did I him. My stomach roiled at the thought of the laurel in the emperor’s possession, all the more terrifying because I did not know the consequences.

If only we had allies of our own, those we might seek refuge with. Prince Yanxi could not harbor us; they would not risk their alliance with the Celestial Kingdom. I still possessed the scale the Long Dragon had gifted me. Could I ask the dragons for aid—not to attack the soldiers, but to flee? Yet their presence would be detected, and the dragons had no desire to be pitted against the Celestial Emperor again. I would not endanger them lightly, not before exhausting every other path.

Doubt clouded my resolve, wavering like a flame caught in a crosswind. Each path before us was fraught with peril. If we fled, the emperor would not forgive us, he would hunt us across the realm. Nor could we fight, outnumbered as we would be. The only alternative was to remain and accept our punishment—yet dare I trust in the emperor’s benevolence, that he might eventually relent and set us free?

The Celestial Emperor’s words surfaced in my mind, what he had warned me of the day I won my mother’s freedom: As the Moon Goddess it still falls upon her to ensure the moon rises each night—without exception.