Stay, she told it. Please.
The blackbird did.
Rowen smiled, and even with the scraggly beard, she thought him handsome. Of course, she had always thought him handsome. And he was younger than the Rowen she’d seen on her visit to the palace in the future. The little bird bobbed its head in curiosity, gazing up at the prince.
“Is it you?” he asked, mirroring the words he’d used before. “Is it?”
She wished she could speak through the bird. That she could assure him that he not only held the trembling bird in his palm, but also her.
“I feel you nearby,” he whispered, holding the bird close to his face. “You’ve flown from the north. Are you at the shrine on top of the hill? Are you really that close?”
I am, she thought with urgency. Can you hear me, Rowen?
“I knew a little bird like you,” he said. “A little siskin. It came to me after I was blinded by the dragon’s blood. I could heal the others, but not myself. It guided me through the woods. And it has helped ease my loneliness. You’re a different bird. I wonder what color you are?”
The smile on his mouth made her heart ache.
I’m here, Rowen. I’m here.
“Did she send you, little bird? Or did you come to sing to me, like your sisters? I love the sound of it. It reminds me of the hanging trees in Sajinau. Is this the fulfillment of the vision I had? It feels . . . familiar. Is this when you come to break me out of this lonely prison, Bingmei? Oh, little bird, if only you could speak.”
She wanted to tell him about their son, about the future she’d glimpsed. But she was just as helpless to speak now as she had been then. The little bird grew impatient for food, and she felt it prepare to flee.
And then she sensed a presence in the shadows. They were growing thicker, darker. A menacing shape began to take form.
Fly! Fly!
The blackbird soared away as the smoke coalesced into its dragon shape. Bingmei saw its yellow eyes fix on the bird, which raced away in a panic. As it burst out the window, she saw the siskin finch on the rooftop of the palace. It hadn’t been there before. She lunged into it. As her awareness settled within the little bird, she felt a keen intelligence and a willing spirit.
To the window, she thought to it, and the siskin immediately obeyed. Was this the same bird that had helped her escape the Death Wall? The one that had followed and helped her and Quion along the way? An eager throb of excitement came from the bird’s heart at her thought.
The siskin flew toward a different window from the one the blackbird had used, reaching it just in time for Bingmei to see the dragon finish transforming into the pale-haired Echion.
“Who’s there?” Rowen asked, his tone betraying worry.
“Can you not smell me, princeling?” Echion sneered and backhanded Rowen across the mouth, dropping him to the floor. Fury flooded Bingmei, even more so when she saw the trickle of blood from his lip.
Rowen remained down on his knees. “I . . . I didn’t know it was you, grand one. Forgive me.”
Echion’s mouth was twisted into a disdainful frown. He paced in front of Rowen, his armor snug around his body, his hair windblown. He looked as if he’d just arrived from their battle.
“Where is she?” Echion demanded.
Rowen, cowering, didn’t look up. “Who?”
Echion kicked him in the chest, knocking him from his knees. Bingmei’s mind blazed with fury. Attacking someone so defenseless was a cowardly act. Then again, what else could she expect from a man who’d ordered a generation of babies be slain?
“If you continue to mock my intelligence, I will lose my patience with you. There can be no doubt of whom I speak. She has had a child with that worm. The fisherman’s son.”
Something flashed in Rowen’s eyes, jealousy perhaps, but the look quickly faded.
“She’s made her choice, Rowen. She gave herself to that other boy. Why protect her now? She never wanted you. You meant nothing to her.”
Bingmei wanted to scream at Echion for his deliberate lies.
Rowen, wincing, pushed himself up on his arm. “You’ve already taken everything from me. You’ve destroyed me. Does it give you pleasure to mock me?”
“I have robbed you of your lust. Consider it a blessing.” Bingmei felt a pang of deep sorrow. What had Rowen endured during his months of confinement?
“I don’t know where she is,” Rowen said with a chuckle. “Yes, she has left the shrine. I thought you went to go fetch her. Or did she outsmart you . . . again?”
Echion glared down at him, but it was a pointless exercise. Rowen couldn’t see the threat in his eyes.
“Are you going to kill me again?” Rowen said. “I saw my father the last time I went to the Grave Kingdom. I’d prefer his company to yours.”
“Insolent fool!” Echion said, storming forward. He bent down and hauled Rowen off the ground, holding him by the front of his shirt. From the expression of pain on Rowen’s face, his fingers gripped skin as well as cloth. Anxiety pulsed through Bingmei until he finally released Rowen, letting him collapse to the floor.
“The baby is dead, and so is the fool fisherman, but I want the girl,” he said angrily. “You are still bound to her. You can find her, just as you did before. Where is she? Has she crossed from the Death Wall?”
“Yes,” Rowen said, massaging his chest.
“I knew it,” Echion said with a grimace. “Where is she now? Sihui?”
“Of course she went to Sihui!” Rowen lied. “She will fight you. She will try again.”
Echion barked a laugh. “It doesn’t matter, princeling. She’s lost. She will fail, just as her predecessors all failed. Now that I know where she is, I will take care of her myself. And I will crush Tzu’s army with one fist.”
“You’re afraid,” Rowen taunted. “You’re afraid of
