The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology)

He turned around and cradled my face in his hands. I could not believe how much he had changed. All traces of that easy manner of his were gone. He looked different, intense and melancholic.

My heart poured out for him. “Oh, poor Pheasant.” I held him. It just occurred to me that he could not sit because he still hurt from being whipped. “What have I done to you?”

He stroked my hair. “Don’t say that. I would do anything for you.”

My eyes moistened. As long as I had him, I did not care what happened to me. I could have held him and died at that moment, and I would have had no regrets.

“I need to tell you something,” he said.

“What?”

“He promised to leave you alone.”

“He forgives me?”

“Yes. He won’t beat you, demote you, or expel you from the court.”

I searched his face. I should have known that Pheasant would protect me, that he would convince the Emperor to spare me. “What did you do, Pheasant?”

He did not answer.

I held the front of his robe. “You promised you’d never see me again?”

He looked away.

My hands trembled. “Is he going to send you away?”

“To study classics.”

“And?”

“Remember what I told you? Before my mother’s deathbed, my father promised I could marry any woman I wished, any woman of my choice.”

I remembered. He was her youngest son, her most beloved son. She wished him to be happy, not a pawn of the throne.

“Now, he has chosen one for me,” Pheasant said. “And I agreed.”

My hands slipped, and I faced the emptiness of the night. So vast and open. I felt the weightlessness surround me as if I were falling into a void, like a leaf blown into a gorge.

“Take care, my love.” He stood up, stretching out his hand as if to touch me. “I promise I will not see you again.”

“Wait.” I clutched his sleeve. Our gazes locked, and his eyes glittered in the moonlight. “Just a moment longer, all right?”

He nodded.

“When do you leave?”

“At dawn.”

So soon. Next time I saw him, he would belong to someone else. “Can I see where they struck you?”

He reached for his belt and untied his robe. Around his waist and back were bandages, beneath which flowed the blood that had bled for me. I did not touch it. I only stared. “Pheasant, have I told you about my father?”

He shook his head.

“He died to save me. I was twelve years old. He took me to my family’s grave site and showed me our family’s land. We were talking so merrily. He loved me, Pheasant. I was his favorite. But a tiger attacked us. No. Attacked me. He pushed me away to save me. For years I could not remember, but now I do.”

He squeezed my hand.

“He wanted so much for me. He raised me like a son. He believed in me, believed in some prediction, and then he died to protect me. I wanted to make him happy, to make him proud of me. I wanted to walk the path he chose for me. I couldn’t be with you”—I raised my head—“even if I wanted to.”

He stroked my head. Once, his tenderness would have crushed me, pained me. Not anymore. I traced his skin near the bandages. He cringed. “But I think there is nothing I can do. I have to disappoint him.”

I had to make a choice, my own choice. It was neither a right one nor a good one. Because with the choice, I would banish my father’s dream to the court’s shadowy corner, where it would wander like a homeless ghost, and because of it, I would bring my family no fame or glory.

I untied my robe and let it fall off my shoulders. Then I took Pheasant’s hand and kissed him.

He swallowed hard. “I can’t now.”

“Why?”

“You were right. I will ruin you. I have been selfish. This will bring you danger and dishonor. I will not do that to you.”

“I don’t care.” I undid the cords of my bandeau and dropped it too. Cool air swept across my naked chest, but I did not feel cold.

“Mei…” His voice was faint.

I did not stop. I pulled down my skirt and trousers, lifting my bottom to remove them. When there was not a thread left on me, I raised my arms to loop around his neck and pressed against him.

We both trembled.

“I still can’t—” His warm breath touched my lips like a delicate brush. His heart beat the same fierce rhythm as mine.

“Kiss me.”

“Mei…” He was struggling. His breath quickened.

I leaned closer to him, stroking his chest. He breathed fast but still would not hold me. I moved down. He stilled. Then suddenly, I was beneath him on the stone bench.

How strange I felt. I was there but not there. I was high but also low. I was soft but also hard. I was less but also more. I drifted, I flew, I leaped to a world distant and unknown. I transformed into water, I turned into gold, and I relived as fire. Every part of my body seemed to evolve, but I did not know what I would become. I only knew, however, that I was stronger.

Then something deep within me emerged, pulsating, its beats persistent but subtle, like a butterfly’s flutters. It grew stronger and stronger and swept my breath away like the powerful wings of an eagle.

“You all right?” he asked.

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