CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
T he certainty in the witch’s voice pierces me. “You know her?” I demand, glaring at Jin.
“I suspected, when I discovered the incense in the room and the wind chime,” he replies. “I only knew once I saw her face uncovered.”
“What secrets have you been keeping from your companion?” the witch sneers. “We go a long way back, don’t we, Lord Jin-Yong?”
“Lord Jin-Yong?” I spit the name, confusion turning to anger. “Who are you? I risked my life because of your promises; I need to know they have worth.”
He doesn’t flinch or look away. “I will keep my word to you.”
“Why should I believe you when you lie so easily,” I say bitterly, though I’m guilty of no less.
“I don’t lie when it matters.” His voice begins harsh, then gentles. “This changes nothing. Once we bring Lady Ruilin home—”
The witch’s eyes shimmer, a fragrance drifting in the air—like spring rain.
Her palm crackles with light, a vine leaping into her grasp from a nearby tree.
Without pause, she flings it at us. I duck to the ground, Jin dipping back to evade the strike—the witch wrenching her arm back to lash him once more.
I rush to him, but Jin catches the vine, wrapping it around his fist to yank it apart.
As the witch’s fingers weave through the air, the ground shudders, thick roots erupting from the earth, shredding the once immaculate lawn.
They spring up to coil around Jin, binding his waist, one of his arms. I draw my dagger, lunging forward to cut them.
I’m still angry at him, I might even enjoy watching the witch thrash him a bit—but I don’t want him dead.
Jin unsheathes a dagger concealed at his side, slashing at the roots again and again, his arm a blur, until all that remains are their fleshy stems on the ravaged ground.
My eyes narrow. “You didn’t seem afraid of heights when we traveled here, and you can fight. Why didn’t you challenge General Xilu on the tower?”
“I couldn’t,” he says, his jaw clenching.
“More lies?” I ask scathingly.
Lady Ruilin sinks upon the grass, trying to flatten the loose soil with her hands. “My garden… you’ve ruined it, Dian.”
“I’ll plant you another—after I’ve gotten rid of our uninvited guests.” Her gentle tone is in stark contrast to the violence she is capable of.
She reaches into her sleeve, something gleaming in her hand that she hurls toward us. Metal whistles—Jin’s body colliding with mine, pushing me to safety—as the witch’s knife plunges past my ear. A second one swiftly follows, grazing Jin’s arm.
He shakes his head like it’s fogged. The wound in his arm appears shallow yet his blood flows freely, a yellowish paste forming over the flesh. “What poison did you taint your knives with?” he demands.
The witch’s mouth curves in a malicious smile. “Does it matter when you’ll be dead soon, Lord Jin-Yong?”
“Give me the antidote. You don’t want to kill me; we’re on the same side.”
My ears prick up. But then the witch laughs, a sharp sound. “You’re wrong. Back home, I’d be constrained by family and politics. But here, no one cares what becomes of you—no one will ever know.”
“Stop making threats you don’t mean.” Yet the color fades from Jin’s face.
“I mean every word,” she tells him icily. “At least you’ll make a pretty corpse when you die smiling.”
Those chopped roots in the kitchen, their yellow edge… she’s poisoned the blades, one of which is tucked by my waist. My throat constricts as a dangerous idea forms. But if I hesitate, Jin will die, and I’ll end up another statue entombed in the witch’s courtyard.
As she circles Jin—I draw the knife I stole, then grab Lady Ruilin.
She struggles with surprising strength, yet I tighten my hold, bringing the point of the blade to her neck.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hoping she doesn’t notice how my hand shakes.
“We have to stop them.” Maybe she catches my meaning because her struggles cease, though her breathing is shallow.
The witch’s gaze is riveted on my knife. “Hurt her, and I’ll flay the skin off your bones.”
My insides clench but I angle closer to Lady Ruilin, using her as a shield. “Whether I hurt her or not depends on you. Give him the antidote.”
The witch’s eyes gleam like those of a mountain cat, one intent on ripping my throat out. As she lunges at me, I dart back, dragging Lady Ruilin with me.
“Try that again and we’ll learn if nobles bleed the same as the rest of us.
” My voice is guttural and harsh. Threats mean nothing if she doesn’t believe me.
“Since I was a girl, my uncle taught me how to gut fish and slit the throats of animals we’d trapped.
” I speak with deliberate cruelty, the sight of the blood spilling from Jin’s wound spurring me on. “Give him the cure—now.”
She doesn’t move, nor do I, my hand beginning to ache from holding the knife.
Finally, the witch reaches into her sleeve and pulls out a porcelain bottle.
She stalks toward Jin, plucks out the stopper, then empties a greenish liquid over his wound.
As it seeps in, the blood flow halts, the color returning to Jin’s face.
“She’s not the monster you think she is,” he tells me quietly. “Let Lady Ruilin go.”
“What if you’re wrong?” My grip doesn’t loosen; I don’t want to release Lady Ruilin yet. Jin thinks the witch won’t kill us, but from what I’ve seen she won’t show any restraint.
As the witch’s mouth twists with fury, Jin moves between us. “Your quarrel is with me. Speak to me, rather than throwing knives. Let the others leave.”
“How solicitous you are of this girl. Have you forgotten your own people? The debt you owe to mine?” She almost spits the last.
“I’ve forgotten nothing,” he hurls back—almost furiously.
“What does she mean?” A tremor ripples along my spine. “Why are you beholden to her people?”
“I’ll explain later,” he replies. “Just let Lady Ruilin go.”
My arm is almost numb, the mark on my hand hurting as the throbbing in my head intensifies. Not now, I pray, as my vision blurs. “If I release her, do you promise not to hurt me?” Soon, I won’t have a choice—my strength ebbing, my hold wavering.
As she nods, I release Lady Ruilin. She rushes toward the witch, who moves in front of her protectively. I brace for an attack, but she keeps her word.
“Why does she hate you?” I ask Jin.
“She blames my people for what happened to hers.”
“Her people… are they from Mist Island?” I’m trying to piece together the little I know, to not think too hard of the stories about them.
“Those of Thorn Valley failed us,” the witch seethes. “They shouldn’t have allowed the soldiers from the Iron Mountains to cross their land, to threaten my home, to take what didn’t belong to them.”
“The Iron Mountains soldiers deceived us, a grave mistake that we regret more than you know—”
“What is your regret worth? Will it bring my family back, those who died?” Grief courses beneath her rage, the rawness of her emotion stirring me… maybe because I know what it’s like to lose those you love.
“If regret could change the past, I would have rewritten it a thousand times over.” Jin’s eyes blaze.
“You’re not the only one who lost family that day.
My father died protecting your people—as our ruler, he bore the greatest burden upon himself.
As I was too young to take the throne, my uncle became the regent.
We accept the burden of our mistakes, we pay for them each day. ”
Lord Chao is his uncle? No wonder he allowed Jin free rein.
My chest clenches for his loss, yet the pain in my head sharpens, eclipsing all else.
“Earlier, you said you’re on the ‘same side,’” I remind him.
“Why is Thorn Valley protecting Mist Island? Aren’t you enemies?
What of the alliance with the Iron Mountains? ”
When he doesn’t reply, I stare stonily at him. “You’re in my debt; I deserve to know everything.”
He holds my gaze, his expression softening.
“When Mist Island retaliated to attack the Iron Mountains, they were weakened, they’d underestimated the enemy.
To conceal their vulnerability and give them an excuse to withdraw, Thorn Valley pretended to ally with the Iron Mountains—though we hated them for all they’d done.
They think we keep them safe, that they need us.
This also allows us to keep a step ahead of the Iron Mountains’ plans, should they move to strike our realm again.
Their ambitions threaten us all.” He nods at the witch.
“We don’t like each other but we’re working toward the same end. We know who the real enemy is.”
It should frighten me, the deceit Jin is capable of. Thorn Valley was never a friend of the Iron Mountains—I can’t be on their side, it’s far too dangerous.
“I won’t kill you,” the witch tells him harshly. “But we aren’t friends.”
He shrugs like it doesn’t matter. “You should return with me. Your father has been searching for you.”
“Why do you think I covered my face?” She wrinkles her nose.
It makes her look more normal, less terrifying.
“I promised the Elders that I’d search for the starfire; it’s why they allowed me to leave—I didn’t tell them the other reason I left.
I began my search in the Iron Mountains but couldn’t enter the Palace of Nine Hills.
They’ve forged a type of iron that can sense those with magic, not just suppress it. ”
The tablet by the palace entrance. The creature in the forge, its magic flowing over the iron. This secret weighs heavier. If I were alone with Jin, I’d tell him—but not in front of this witch and her cold and penetrating gaze.
“How did you end up here?” Jin asks her.
“After leaving the Iron Mountains, I ventured to the Amber Forest, seeking the starfire owned by the duke. I heard his daughter needed aid for a delicate task. I met Lady Ruilin, and we struck a deal. I helped her out of an unwanted betrothal, and she offered me the pretty chain around her neck.”
Jin’s eyes flare. “Do you have it?”
The witch undoes a pouch from her waist, plucking out a gold chain with a glittering stone, as luminous as Prince Zixin’s though half its size.
My heart sinks. I’d been prepared to steal the starfire from Jin, but to steal it from her, the one who’d turned those warriors to stone? I’d be stupid to try… or desperate.
“Why do you want the starfire?” I ask them, part of me hoping Jin will tell me this time.
The witch frowns. “Lord Jin-Yong, be wary of what you share. Isn’t this girl from the Iron Mountains? She reeks of their accursed metal, she carries one of their daggers.”
“You can trust her. She is trying to escape from Prince Zixin—”
“The prince wants to keep her?” As her gaze swings back to me, I shrink away before I stop myself. “She could be useful—”
“No,” Jin says forcefully. “She isn’t a hostage.”
“Lord Jin-Yong, you’re cleverer than this. Here is a valuable pawn.”
“Don’t cross me in this.” The threat in his tone silences her. “Don’t hurt her; you won’t like the outcome.”
The witch draws back, lifting her chin. “Whatever you think, you can’t share secrets that don’t belong to you.”
Jin nods tersely. “I’m bound to keep this secret,” he tells me. “Rest assured, it has nothing to do with you, it won’t endanger you in any way.”
His assurances ring hollow but I nod. Let them keep their secrets; it will make what I must do easier.
“We should bring the starfire to Mist Island, before Prince Zixin realizes it’s in our possession,” Jin says to the witch.
I round on him. “What about our quest for the Iron Mountains? What about your promise to me?” My voice is raised, the witch staring at me like she’s tempted to drive one of her knives through my chest.
“The quest was always for the starfire. Now we have it, we can’t let it fall into Prince Zixin’s grasp.” Jin’s expression shutters. “I’m sorry, Yining, but you must come with us. We’ll keep you safe.”
I lean toward him, wanting him to see me—wanting a reason to trust him again. “This isn’t our deal.”
“I will get back what you need. Give me time,” he tells me intently.
I say nothing, my hand fisting, concealing the mark under my finger. Jin doesn’t know that I can’t do as he asks, I can’t let them take the starfire away. I’m almost out of time. And right now, there is only one way forward—if I want to live.