Page 18 of The Blood Orchid

I didn’t tell him about the Empress. Not yet. He had died thinking it meant she would die as well, and I worried that his soul would decay even faster if he learned it had all been for nothing. He had foolishly believed in me, even when I wasnothing but a míngqì merchant in Guangzhou. He saw me as a hero, a savior of the poor. What would he think if he knew the truth?

“We never even found the map,” I said, tipping my head back against his shoulder, staring at the white sky. “I nearly died, and I have no idea where to look next.”

“Why would he go to such lengths to protect a transformation?” Hong said.

I shrugged. “It must create something important, but it’s useless if I don’t know what it is. You can’t do alchemy without intention. Besides, I don’t even know where to start. What isthe dragon’s white eyesupposed to mean? Am I supposed to find a dragon and scoop its eyes out?”

Hong laughed, but the sound felt far away. “Have you asked the Moon Alchemist what she thinks?” he said.

I turned, looking up at him. He had eaten gold up until his death, so his eyes still held tiny constellations of gold flecks, the brightest light in the dark sameness of this plane.

“She’s gone,” I said quietly.

He blinked hard, shaking his head as if clearing his thoughts. When he opened his eyes again, they were dimmer. “Sorry, I... I forgot.”

I took his hand, lacing our fingers together, ignoring the biting cold.

Sometimes, it became all too clear that his soul was slipping away the longer he stayed here. His mind was a threadbare blanket, holes growing wider. At times, he murmured words that made sense on their own but were nonsense when strung together. His touch was already painfully cold, and each day it felt lighter, gentler, as if he could hardly touch me at all.

I looked into his gray eyes, and a question burned at my lips,but I could never voice it because I couldn’t bear to hear the answer.

Do you forgive me for not choosing you?

With only one dead body left whole in the palace, I’d had to choose between the prince and my brother. I hadn’t known which one I was going to choose when I entered the river of souls. But desire guided you in this plane, and when I found my brother’s body on the riverbank and felt relief instead of regret, I’d known that was the only choice I could have made. He was my family.

But I still loved the prince, no matter how unfair it was to ask for love in return after leaving him here.

“I’m going to bring you back,” I said, the words a quiet promise whispered into his collarbone.

“I know,” he said. “I’ve never once doubted you, Empress.”

I grimaced at the nickname, gently pushing his shoulder until he leaned back against the tree again, and I leaned against him so he couldn’t see my face. I knew that for him, the name was a promise that he would return, that we would be married and I would be his empress consort. He’d promised to marry me on the day he died, and that was the one thing he hadn’t seemed to forget even as the rest of his mind dissolved. To me, the name could only conjure images of gold eyes, of the woman who’d burned my cousins alive and slit Hong’s throat. But I couldn’t take away that small piece of hope from him, no matter how unsettled it made me.

“You’re afraid,” he said, his cold palm resting over my chest, my heartbeat that felt mockingly loud.

“I’m just tired,” I said, because my fears weren’t the prince’s problem. I didn’t need him to worry about me, I only needed him to stay.

“Rest here with me,” he said, leaning back against the tree.

I shook my head, already standing up, untangling his frozen limbs from mine.

“Wenshu Ge wants to rest too,” I said, looking away. “He can’t do that if I’m down here.”

Hong nodded. “He’s taking good care of my body, isn’t he?” he said. I was sure he meant it as a joke, but I could sense the worry in his tone.

“Aside from the viper venom, yes,” I said. “He’s so vain now, always brushing his hair. I think you might have to wrestle it back from him, when the time comes.”

“I look forward to that day,” he said. “Zilan—”

“Don’t,” I said, holding up a hand to stop his next words.

I would never let him say goodbye to me.

As long as he never did, we always had unfinished business. He would cling to the rope, waiting for me to return. He would never leave me without saying goodbye.

“I’ll be right back,” is what I always said instead.

“I’ll be here,” he said. “Always. For as long as it takes.”