CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
I’m alive.
Relief surges as my eyes flick open. For some reason, the witch didn’t kill us. Someone shifts on the bed beside me—Jin, fast asleep, his hair falling across his face. A jolt courses through me, shedding the last of my drowsiness.
I shake his arm, but he doesn’t stir. Maybe he inhaled more of the strange smoke from the courtyard.
Seeking escape, my eyes move across the large room, furnished in tones of green and white.
I head to the door, locked as expected, without any opening to undo.
I rush toward the window at the far end, but my stomach hollows at the sight of the steep drop leading into the gorge beneath.
Something gleams above the window, fracturing the light: a wind chime formed of crystal pieces with a bluish tinge, strung from the ceiling. Just beneath it is an agarwood incense burner—
“Yining?”
Jin sits up, his eyes heavy-lidded with sleep. As he pushes the covers away, his robe gapes to reveal his chest, the smooth skin lined with muscle.
I look away, pretending to study a hideous porcelain vase painted with peacocks. “We’re locked inside, and the window opens to the gorge.”
He runs a hand through his hair, sticking up in parts. I suppress the ridiculous urge to touch it. “I expected worse.”
“Why didn’t the witch kill us or turn us into statues?” I ask.
He looks around the room, his brow furrowing. “Probably because we’re more useful to her alive.”
Jin heads to the table and pours two cups of tea. Before he takes a sip, I snatch the cup from him, setting it down. “Aren’t you afraid it’s poisoned?”
“It would have been easier to slit our throats while we were unconscious.”
He’s right. But I’m still cautious about eating or drinking anything here. As a breeze darts through the air, the wind chime quivers. Jin glances at it, his gaze narrowing.
“What are you thinking?” I ask.
His lips curve into a smile. “That it’s not a bad thing to be trapped with you.”
The moment stretches between us, a flash of heat unfurling. “We have to escape before she returns,” I say, my voice low.
“We can’t go anywhere right now.”
Jin’s irises are almost gold in the light; I can’t look away. The air seems to thicken around us, or maybe it’s the fragrance from the incense. “Then… what should we do?”
His eyelids lower until the curve of his lashes casts shadows on each cheek. He leans forward, his hand dropping to the curve of my neck, his thumb brushing my lips. They part instinctively, my limbs tightening with anticipation. I’m close to the edge; I want to know what lies on the other side.
A beat of silence—and then he lowers his head to mine and kisses me.
I’m not thinking anymore, his mouth on mine, my hand thrust in the rough silk of his hair, the other pulling him closer.
We stumble back until I’m suddenly against the wall, his body pinning mine, his arm around my waist to hold me closer.
I press myself harder against him—limp inside, like my bones have turned to liquid—my heart racing.
His lips brush mine gently, then fiercely, his teeth biting my lower lip as pleasure coils in my core.
Our kiss grows more urgent, our breaths entangling as his tongue strokes mine.
As his mouth slides down the curve of my neck, his teeth graze the skin.
It stings, my fingers digging into his arm, though I’ve never known pain could feel this way—almost pleasurable, both dark and divine.
Glancing up, I catch our reflection in the mirror.
My face is flushed, my hands pale against the black of his robe.
I want him, I’ve wanted him for a while, though I never dared to admit it.
My gaze falls to Jin’s arms, smooth and unblemished.
Where are the marks from his wounds in the swamp?
I glance at my legs, pulling up my robe, unable to find any of the welts and scratches from the creature in the crater.
A lump of unease forms. While the witch might not kill us yet, she wouldn’t heal us.
The wind chime shudders yet remains silent, light dancing off those shining shards.
Smoke drifts steadily from the agarwood burner, rising from the glowing tip of the incense coil.
Jin’s fingers trail down my face, tilting it to his again—
This isn’t real.
Desire crumbles to ash, the heat in my blood dwindling. A flash of regret as I push him away, kicking the incense burner over. The lid topples, the incense falling out. A sharp sweetness floods the air, but I hold my breath as I stamp on the coil, breaking it apart.
The wind chime crashes down, glittering fragments strewn across the floor. Ash from the incense springs up like a dust storm. Everything tilts—and then we’re slipping, falling, Jin pulling me into his arms to shield me as we tumble through the air.
My eyes fly open, looking into Jin’s. The room is gone, if it ever existed. We’re lying in the courtyard just where we fell. Darkness cloaks the place, the giant lantern extinguished. Fortunately, there is no sign of the witch.
Jin rises, then extends his hand to me. “Are you hurt?”
I shake my head, pushing myself up, my mind alight with unwanted memories. Turning from him, I retrieve my dagger from where it had fallen, tucking it through my sash. “What happened?” I ask.
“You broke the spell.” He nods at something behind me, a small agarwood burner toppled onto its side, scattered incense fragments trailing over a shard of crystal.
He behaves as usual, without a trace of awkwardness. Everything was false, in my mind alone. If Jin does dream—I think wrathfully—it would be about court matters, warfare, or… murdering trespassers.
He is watching me intently. “You look angry.”
“Why would I be?” I reply tersely. “I’ve never felt better.”
“If so, you should have let us sleep a little longer.” His gaze flicks to my mouth. “It was the most pleasant dream. It would have been more pleasant if you hadn’t woken us up.”
“You knew? You let it happen?” I hate that I sound breathless. “I have no interest in playing out your twisted fantasies.”
“Our twisted fantasies,” he reminds me, aggravatingly.
My face burns. “How could you tell it wasn’t real?”
“Only after I noticed the wind chime. It was strung with crystals that aren’t commonly found in this realm.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shrugs. “It was just getting interesting. The moment you knocked over the incense turned out to be one of profound regret.”
“You might be dead if I hadn’t.”
“I wouldn’t let it get that far. It was an elaborate trap, meticulously woven. It was also safer to let the illusion play out longer. If the witch grew suspicious, she might place other binds on us, those harder to extricate ourselves from.” He takes a step toward me. “I was also curious.”
The question hangs between us—an invitation. As a traitorous warmth flares, I suppress the urge to ask more. “We must hurry. The magic-wielder could return at any moment. We have to find Lady Ruilin.”
As we approach the tower, a slender opening appears. Was this always here, obscured from sight? How much of the witch’s magic is just illusion? But when I think of the statues in the courtyard, ice hardens in my veins.
The tower is larger than it appears from outside, brightly lit within by a brace of candles in each corner.
Spiral stone stairs lead up to a floor of empty rooms, then the kitchen on the next tier.
Unwashed pots are left on a stove, a long wooden table cluttered with the remnants of a meal.
A cleaver gleams by the chopping board, sliced roots strewn over a set of knives on the table, their blades tinged a yellowish hue.
I take one, tucking it into my waistband.
We head higher up, into a study, the floor here of polished wood.
Shelves line the walls, stacked with books, two desks facing each other in an almost intimate arrangement.
Scroll paintings cover the walls, one of a waterfall cascading from a cliff, another of flowers and green meadows.
Anticipation builds. The duke’s daughter must be here; the girl from my dreams. Maybe once I find her, I’ll learn more about myself, of the home the carp spoke of.
The higher we climb, the tighter my tension knots. There is no sign of the witch or the duke’s daughter. Any confrontation would be dangerous; our best chance is to find Lady Ruilin, to escape before we’re discovered.
The next floor is divided into two bedrooms, both empty. Carpets are thrown across the floor, the curtains slung over the wooden bedposts. With every discovery, the tower seems less a place of torment but a home—an almost beautiful one.
On the highest floor, a garden sprawls before us, one tended by talented hands.
The air is warmer here, the grass so soft it feels like walking on a cloud.
Flowers and plants bloom alongside herbs and vegetables, many that I’ve never seen before.
Thick hedges divide the garden, flowers peeking from the dark leaves.
A light sneeze snaps the quiet. A girl sits on a bench in a corner, reading a book—oblivious to our presence.
Wind teases the hem of her apricot robe, cut in the style of the Amber Forest. It’s her, the duke’s daughter, with her brown hair and wide black eyes, just as I dreamed.
I brace for a swell of emotion—except there is nothing, just a sinking hollow in my gut…
that perhaps I imagined it all. But I cage my disappointment.
What matters more than any imagined connection is she’s the key to the starfire, to getting back my ring.
As we approach, the girl leaps to her feet, the book falling to the ground. Her mouth parts to scream, but I move forward, raising my palms.
“Don’t be afraid. We’re here to help you,” I tell her.
“Lady Ruilin, your father sent us,” Jin says in hushed tones. “I’m relieved to find you well.”
She looks better than well; she is radiant. “Father sent you?” Her voice emerges too loud amid the quiet.
“Lower your voice, Lady Ruilin,” Jin warns. “Your captor might hear you.”
As she claps a hand to her mouth and nods, I tug her sleeve. “Come with us. We must hurry.”
“Where is the magic-wielder?” Jin asks, searching the garden. Fortunately, no one else seems to be here.
Lady Ruilin makes a face. “She’s in the courtyard below, watering the statues so they don’t dry out. The spell doesn’t actually turn them to stone but hardens their flesh. The winds are harsh here. If they get too brittle, they crack. They… die.”
My stomach churns, even as it surprises me that the witch would care.
“Do you know how to restore the statues?” Jin asks urgently, thinking of his soldiers.
Lady Ruilin nods. “I heard her mention a flower with black petals.” She walks ahead of us, quickening her pace as she calls out, “I’ll show you where they grow.”
“Speak more quietly,” I remind her as we follow her. Even if the witch is away, we can’t take any chances.
She stumbles over a root then, crying out.
I grit my teeth, my patience worn thin. As we round a grove of jujube trees—someone steps forth.
The witch, her hood pushed all the way back from her face.
Jin draws a slow breath. Her hair is cropped just above her shoulders, her eyes the brilliant green of an ancient forest. She isn’t beautiful in the extravagant way of a peony but sleek and elegant like a tulip.
And though she bears no weapon, only a fool would think she needs one.
She raises a finger at the duke’s daughter. “Let her go.”
“You’re the one who kidnapped her,” I fling back.
“She didn’t kidnap me.”
As Lady Ruilin darts toward the witch, I catch her arm. “Are you under a spell?”
“No.” Jin’s tone hardens, his face angled away. “She is doing this because she wants to.”
Anger simmers beneath my fear. “We risked our lives to help you—as did everyone trapped in the courtyard. All this while, you’re in alliance with the witch? Do you enjoy making people suffer?”
Her lip trembles. “No. It’s not like that.”
The witch stalks toward Lady Ruilin. “None of these people came to help you. They’re doing it for themselves, for the prize your father offered.”
“Your father is worried—”
“He’s only worried about his betrothal contract, the one he arranged without asking me,” Lady Ruilin retorts. “I’ve never even met this proposed groom.”
“Maybe you should meet him; you might like him. If not, you could speak to your father again.” I’m trying to persuade her because I need her to return with us—selfish, when I wouldn’t want to be married off either.
“I won’t like him,” she says adamantly, glancing at the witch. “Nor will I let my life be decided for me.”
Her resolve, her clarity of mind—it strikes me then: “There’s someone else.”
She smiles, not denying it. “So what if there is?”
“There’s no one here but—” I look at the witch. She looks back at me, her eyes like those of a viperous snake. “Her?” A question, and yet the answer unveils itself in the intimate way they speak, how they gaze at each other. This tower, set up like their home.
“She didn’t steal you away; she was helping you.”
I turn to the magic-wielder—she is staring at Jin, no longer wearing his hat as he raises his chin. Her face twists in fury as she points a finger at him. “You.”