CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
T he next day, we ride until my body feels bruised each time it collides against the saddle.
When we stop for the night, the last thing I recall is the moon against the black sky, someone carrying me into a tent.
No dreams plague me; exhaustion has silenced them all.
When I wake, breakfast is a hurried affair of sesame flatbread and water before we set off again.
We have no time to waste with the Death Swamp still a half-day’s ride away.
The warriors who’ve set out to rescue Lady Ruilin have a head start, even with the swiftness of our steeds.
It won’t matter how well our scheme is plotted if we arrive too late.
And more than the starfire at stake—I’m eager to meet her, the young woman in my dream.
The sun is high when we catch our first glimpse of the swamp in the distance: the earth glistening darkly, a tower of pale stone rising to spear the sky. A vast chasm cleaves the swamp from the Amber Forest, the solitary bridge leading across it guarded by Duke Yuan’s soldiers.
“You’re late,” their leader tells us, once we show her our seal. “The others crossed over hours ago.”
“Do you have any advice for us?” Jin asks with a smile.
She cocks her head, her helmet glinting in the sunlight. “My memory is foggy of late. It needs something to clear it.”
Jin leans forward to slip a piece of gold into the soldier’s waiting hand. “Will this help?”
Gold and silver must sprout on trees in Thorn Valley, the way he spends it.
The soldier grins. “Tread carefully as the land in the swamp is prone to crumbling. Avoid any pools of water. Stick to the path, even if it appears the longer way. When it grows too narrow, it’s safer to walk than ride.
Most importantly, steer clear of the craters.
” She pauses, then adds, “Strange creatures live there, those that will drag you in to make a meal of you.”
A chill sinks through my flesh, deepening as we cross into the swamp—a nightmare sprung to life.
Here, the skies appear a rancid vermilion, the descending sun a blot of blood.
The wind roils as I cling harder to my cloak.
Withering bamboo pierce the muddy earth, reeds growing sparsely between the craters of mud, some bubbling ominously.
When the wind shifts, a foul stench rises, reeking of decay.
A rough-hewn path cuts through the swamp, footprints pressed into the damp earth—those of the warriors ahead of us.
Above looms the tower on a slope, precariously perched.
Nine tiers high, maybe ten, the roof tiles curved at the ends.
We ride at a slow pace, following the guard’s advice.
The narrow path is riddled with stones, the uneven earth churned with treacherous crevices.
Occasionally, pieces of armor or weaponry gleam from the ground like they’ve been dropped by some unfortunate soldier—or abandoned.
My stomach twists as I look away from them.
Small steps patter, a fox dashing in front of us.
The horses skitter nervously, but mine rears back, throwing me to the ground.
I fall into the soft mud, my leg half sunken into a bubbling crater, the liquid within cold and viscous.
Panic clutches me as I try to pull it out—but something prickling slithers around my ankle, pinning me in place.
One sharp yank and I’m dragged deeper, the slippery mud closing around my thighs.
I scream as my fingers claw the earth, yet there’s nothing to hold on to, just weeds—
Jin leaps down from his horse, racing toward me.
He dives to grab my hand, tugging hard—but the binds around my ankle constrict, squeezing my flesh.
He drops flat to the ground, wrapping his other hand around mine, his face strained.
The creature drags me deeper—Jin too. What if they snare him?
I should release him… but I don’t want to die.
His gaze locks on mine. “Don’t you dare let go,” he says fiercely—almost wrathfully.
I’m shaking all over but his steadiness calms me. The murky water in the crater shudders as my legs are pierced by sharp pinpricks like needles… like teeth.
“Something is biting me,” I rasp, blinking away the tears that blur my eyes.
The soldiers rush to us, some helping to hold Jin.
He grips me tighter, his knuckles white.
It’s growing harder to hold on, our palms sweaty, my strength ebbing, my limbs rigid with terror.
I’m burning all over as this relentless force pulls me deeper, but I kick at it—again and again—as violently as I can.
My foot strikes a hardness that abruptly recoils, the gnawing sharpness weakening.
“Whatever this is, it can be hurt,” I say through gritted teeth. “It flinched when I struck it.”
Jin shouts for Captain Hong, who unsheathes his sword, thrusting it into the crater.
As he rakes the blade through the mud, his eyes pinch from strain.
The bubbling grows more violent, reeking like rotted meat.
I gag, retching as hissing sounds ripple through the sludge.
Gathering my strength, I kick at the binds around my ankle as hard as I can.
The coils loosen abruptly—Jin dragging me free.
A grayish tentacle coated with needlelike barbs lashes the air, hovering around Jin—but Captain Hong’s blade slams it away.
I collapse to the ground, the lower part of my body coated in mud.
My shoes and pants are tattered, my legs crusted with marks and bloodied scratches like I’ve been bitten and clawed.
Still holding my hand, Jin grabs a waterskin from a soldier.
He empties it over my legs, washing away the mud.
As some of the pain eases, my breathing steadies.
Once I release his hand, Jin examines the wounds across my legs.
“Thankfully most are shallow.” He pulls out a porcelain jar, rubbing a yellowish ointment into my skin, his fingers gentle but firm.
As my face heats from his touch, I grab the jar from him, applying the ointment myself. He leans closer, frowning as he remarks, “Your hand is injured.”
“Just bruised.” Fortunately, the mark on my finger is obscured with mud. Of greater concern is the throbbing at the back of my head that’s been happening more frequently.
My legs still hurt, but I’m lucky this is the worst of it. The medicines from Thorn Valley are far better than my makeshift remedies. As the pain along my legs subsides, the wounds fading to darkened streaks, I lift up the jar. “Is this magic?”
“No. We make do, like you, with herbs, the medicines our physicians prepare. However, more plants grow in our realm than yours, their properties far more potent.” He takes a little of the ointment, rubbing it along the scratches on his arms from where he was dragged.
Jin calls out to the soldiers to rest, then sits beside me, holding out a piece of dried meat and a knob of bread. I eat only because it gives me something to do, to distract from the echoes of fear reverberating through me.
“The horses are unsettled,” Captain Hong tells him. “We should walk from here.”
Jin glances at my stained and torn clothes. “Let’s change into our disguises first.”
As he moves away to allow me privacy, I dress quickly in the black robe, then fasten the hat over my head.
The thick material falls over my ears, obscuring my hearing.
I pull it off and stuff it into my sleeve—a needless distraction.
Turning back, I find myself watching Jin pull on his clothes—the breadth of his shoulders, the arch of his neck.
Unfortunately, he looks up then, his gaze colliding into mine. Slowly, he shrugs on the black robe, knotting it in place. “Like what you see?”
“No.” My protest comes too quick and harsh.
“Then why are you staring?”
I stalk toward him, then pluck a leaf I only just noticed from his hair. “Stop seeing only what you want to.”
He catches my hand, pressing it to his chest, his heart thudding beneath my palm. His other cradles my cheek, tilting my face to his. “Stop pretending like you see nothing.”
The barriers I built against him waver; it’s like there’s only us here, right now. “Thank you,” I tell him haltingly. “For earlier, for not letting go.”
“I won’t ever let go, unless you want me to.”
The way he looks at me, the light in his eyes…
a warmth pools low inside me. While I’m good at burying my emotions, they still tease and tug within, pulling me to the edge, tempting me to fall.
Words hover in my mouth—honest ones. But then, Captain Hong calls out to Jin, and as he moves away, just the silence remains, leaden with regret.
The skies are burnished with the dying rays of the sun as we lead the horses toward the tower, across a stone bridge that arches over a gorge.
The ascent was steep, though more unnerving was the quiet, seething with dread—no sign of the other warriors, just the rustle of the wind as it wraps around us.
The courtyard around the tower is ringed by a crumbling stone wall, overgrown by roses. Its entrance is crafted of yellowish wood, a large copper ring nailed in the middle. Strange marks are etched over the door in unfamiliar patterns.
“What are these?” I ask.
Jin’s eyes narrow as he inspects them. “The tower is warded against the use of outside magic.”
My insides curl, yet this makes little difference to us.
As Jin grasps the metal ring and pushes hard—the door creaks, swinging ajar.
A cloying scent like roses and cinnamon slithers through.
Jin enters first, then the other soldiers.
I follow swiftly after, only because it’s worse being alone on the other side.