She heard no voice in response. She’d already heard the answer twice.
“In all likelihood, Bingmei,” Xisi said, “you will die facing Echion. Even when he is mortal. At least you know that the child has a loving mother. And that he is destined to rule all kingdoms. Take solace in that if you can.” Her smile was not tender. It was meant to wound.
Bingmei approached the cradle, and Xisi gave her a warning look and pointed her claw at the baby’s throat again. “Make the pact first. I will allow you to hold your child. After.”
Her heart started to feel numb with the stress and agony of the choice. Bingmei nodded.
“Very well. I will draw the glyph. Do you vow to give me possession of your child, to raise as I see fit? To be his lawful mother?”
“I swear it,” Bingmei said thickly.
“And I vow to turn my husband, the Dragon of Night, mortal henceforth. I do this of my own will and pleasure. Repeat it thus, Bingmei.”
Her throat clenched. “I do this of my own will and pleasure.”
“So let it be said, so let it be done,” Xisi murmured and drew the glyph of Xieyi. As Xisi’s finger traced the symbol in the air, sparks of magic flared from it, ripples of blue and yellow and white brightening the dark room. The glyph itself grew brighter as it was finished, so bright it burned her eyes to look at it. She shielded her eyes with her hands. Then all went dark.
“There,” Xisi said. “It is written in the heart of a star. It cannot be undone.”
Bingmei opened her eyes, feeling half-blinded by the promise she’d made. Mieshi and Zhuyi stood impassively, watching her grief with no emotion themselves. Xisi bubbled with excitement. Because of her hatred, she wanted to kill Echion again, to rule the world in his stead. She felt she’d won twice over in their bargain.
What have I done? Bingmei thought in despair, gazing down at Shixian. She stepped toward the meiwood cradle, hungry to touch her child.
Xisi reached down and lifted the babe in an almost tender gesture. “You are mine, now. My son. My heir.” But the smell that came from her wasn’t the cinnamon porridge smell. It was the lemony scent of greed, of lust for power and dominion.
Xisi handed the child to Bingmei. Feeling his little body through the soft blanket made her weep. She stared at his familiar face, at the little dusting of hair across his scalp. His eyes fluttered open as she cradled him. She felt love pour from him as a grin appeared on his mouth that hurt more than a hundred sword wounds. She clutched the baby to her, sobbing uncontrollably, wanting to flee Fusang and take him back to the snow-capped mountains. But the magic instantly responded to her urge, sending a wave of weakness through her. She couldn’t flee with him. She would be forced to obey the pact, just as Xisi had said.
She kissed her son’s cheeks, her tears wetting his soft skin. Shixian wriggled with joy, feeling her presence, recognizing his mother. He let out a little cooing noise that shattered her heart.
Her grief was so powerful it even affected Xisi, who stared at her with incomprehension.
“Give him back,” Xisi commanded.
The compulsion struck her. She tried to fight against it, to savor her moment, but her arms wouldn’t obey her. She handed the child over, even though it nearly killed her to do so. Once Xisi held him again, she gave Bingmei a mocking smile.
“Will it be worth it, in the end?” Xisi asked.
Bingmei wasn’t sure. It was the hardest thing she’d ever had to do. Eyes still wet, she glared at Xisi. “Do your part of the bargain.”
“I am. I will. It will be my pleasure.” She glanced at Mieshi and Zhuyi. “Stay here and guard her. After I am done with the dragon, I need to make sure the army of Sihui is destroyed. Then, and only then, will I release you from your cage, little bird, so that you might slay the dragon yourself.”
Bingmei’s stomach plunged.
“I intend to rule for a long, long time. That tiresome general needs to be out of the way. And the blind prince has been lonely for far too long.”
Her words were meant to cut Bingmei to the heart. And they did.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Caged
The ache of separation from her child throbbed inside her chest. It was a wound that would never heal. Xisi had departed with the baby, leaving Bingmei alone with her former bond sisters. Zhuyi reclaimed her saber, and Mieshi took the rune staff. She examined the symbols dispassionately.
“Do you even remember Kunmia Suun?” Bingmei asked her, feeling the pain tighten around her heart. Although she knew the answer—their emotions had been stripped from them, not their memories—her own raw feelings compelled her to ask. She would give anything for a friend right now, and these two looked like her friends.
“I remember my old life,” Mieshi said, still gazing at the meiwood. “But I feel nothing from it. Emotion is a nuisance.”
“You grieved when Zhuyi was killed,” Bingmei said. “Remember?”
“We cannot be touched by sentiment anymore,” Zhuyi said. “We are beyond the griefs of this world. Only loyalty matters now.”
“But why?” Bingmei pressed. “You were once loyal to Kunmia.” She shifted her gaze back to Mieshi. “And you were loyal to me.”
“We serve our mistress,” Mieshi said. “You are the enemy now, Bingmei.”
But there was no enmity in the words. There was no feeling at all.
“How did she bring your body-soul back without your spirit?” Bingmei asked.
“What does it matter?” Mieshi said. “It is done. It cannot be undone.”
“Are you sure of that?” There was no way to tell whether she was lying. But it didn’t feel like dishonesty. Perhaps she simply believed what she’d been told. But her response lacked any emotion for Bingmei’s nose to detect.
“Why would
