Page 122 of The Blood Orchid

Then there were Hong and Gao’an, walking hand in hand through the forest, hesitating where the darkness ended and the world unfolded into the main hall of the palace, bright with blood. They shared a glance, then took off running toward it.

Then Zheng Sili, hopping down from a tree, looking highly inconvenienced but otherwise fine, as the darkness around the river faded away. He turned toward the horizon, where Chang’anwas only a speck of gold in the distance.

Then at last, there were Wenshu and Yufei, sitting up in bed under the moonlight, their clothes suddenly too large for them, wearing the faces I had known all my life. Wenshu gasped and clapped a hand over his mouth when he saw Yufei’s face, pointing her toward a mirror. She tripped over her long dress and crawled toward it, tentatively running her fingertips over her cheek, ghosting over the face of Fan Yufei, her eyes that were no longer blazing gold but warm pools of brown.

Once, I had promised to bring back the entire house of Li, my parents, everyone who had died for me.

But I was only one person, and I could already feel my sacrifice wearing thin. I was not arrogant enough to think that my life was worth every life in the world. That dream was just another one that would die, tossed into the current. Another type of suffering I would have to endure like everyone else.

“Scarlet,” said a voice behind me.

The name no longer felt like mine, but I turned all the same.

There, at last, was the Moon Alchemist.

She was just as I remembered her—beautiful and terrifying like an endless sea, her long braid like the end of a dagger, her eyes full of autumn light. Once, I’d thought I’d never see that light again.

“I told you to be careful,” she said, crossing her arms. “This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, even though I wasn’t, since my choices had brought her back to me.

“You’re not,” she said, her eyes cold.

I sighed. “No, I guess not.”

I looked down at my hands, now only a whisper of color, a slant of light. “You should go quickly,” I said.

The Moon Alchemist shook her head. “I already told you Ididn’t want to go back. I’m glad, though, that I got one last conversation with you, to tell you how foolish you are.”

I laughed. “I’m glad too,” I said. “Though sorry to disappoint you.”

She frowned. “Disappoint me?”

“I’m sure there was a better way to go about all of this,” I said, staring at my rippling reflection. “I’m sure you would have done it differently. You always knew the answer.”

When she didn’t respond, I looked up. She was frowning at me like I was a problem she couldn’t solve. “How would you have fixed everything?” I said.

She shook her head and sat down beside me, staring out across the sky. “Not everything can be fixed,” she said.

I laughed. “I’m not sure if that’s supposed to make me feel better or worse.”

“Not everything is about you,” the Moon Alchemist said. “Some things just are.”

I moved closer to her. “I’ve missed you,” I said quietly.

I knew she wouldn’t answer, so I turned away and placed all three of the rings in a bowl, along with the diamond I’d just forged. With the quick touch of a couple firestones, the bowl began to heat up, and the stones melted into a silvery soup.

“What do you think all the power in the world tastes like?” I said, trying to sound casual, but the Moon Alchemist didn’t laugh.

“Like gold, I bet,” she said at last.

“So, awful?”

“Like you would know,” the Moon Alchemist said, a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“I know exactly what it’s made of, and none of it is food,” I said, smiling even though I tasted tears.

Before I could stop myself, I pressed the bowl to my lips andtipped my head back, the liquid burning down my throat. I did it partially to make sure the rings would never find their way back to the outside world—Penglai’s only keys were locked inside—and partially to give myself the strength for what came next.

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