CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
W e ride until dusk is a distant memory, the skies a fathomless black. As we travel west, away from the Iron Mountains, my nerves grow more taut. Every minute is one I’ll have to claw back, each step taking me further from my plans, and closer to death.
I’m tired, my limbs heavy, the pain in my head relentless.
It takes all my concentration to keep my mind clear.
When Jin glances my way, I slump in the saddle, letting my grip loosen on the reins.
At once, he calls for me to hold them tighter.
He’s watching me, just as I watch him. Shortly after, he calls for us to halt and make camp.
As the trees loom above, their branches weaving over us like a canopy, Lady Ruilin lays out pieces of dried beef and some cold rice for our meal.
“Let me cook tonight,” I offer. “It’s been days since we had decent food.”
The witch eyes me suspiciously. “What will you make?”
I unpack my provisions, setting out chilies, peppercorns, ginger, and onions. “I thought of making a stew.”
“We don’t have time to waste on cooking,” she says with a sniff.
Lady Ruilin’s eyes light up. “I’d like a hot meal. I can’t cook and, Dian, your talents don’t lie in the kitchen.”
When the witch remains silent, I shrug, packing away the food. “I won’t cook if you don’t want me to.”
My heart thuds as Lady Ruilin casts a beseeching look at her. At last, the witch scowls, rummaging through a bag to pull out a small, beaten pot. “Don’t expect me to help.”
I fight the urge to smile. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
I cook the stew over a small fire that Jin built, tossing in strips of dried meat, ginger, and chilies. As the pungent aromas flood the forest, it’s fortunate there’s no one on our trail.
Jin helps me divide the rice into small bamboo bowls.
I spoon the spicy stew over the rice, then garnish each bowl with sliced spring onions.
When Jin isn’t looking, I add a pinch of night-root to the other three bowls, the reddish strands so finely shaved they sink right into the thick broth.
It’s an herb I’ve never seen before, only heard of, but the witch’s garden was a trove of rare ingredients. I just hope I’m right.
The beef is tender after being simmered in the broth, the smell mouthwatering. Lady Ruilin is already ladling a second spoonful into her mouth, while the witch watches me, her bowl untouched.
“Aren’t you eating?” she asks pointedly.
I take a large bite of stew, swallowing it with a smile. Only then does the witch taste it. A strange expression flits across her face—but she smiles.
“It’s good,” she tells me, taking another spoonful. “It’s very good.”
They eat till their bowls are scraped clean—as do I, though I taste nothing.
Night-root won’t harm them, just put them to sleep, but my betrayal gnaws at me.
I don’t care about the witch or Lady Ruilin, but Jin…
every bite he swallows is like a nail pushed deeper into my chest. I think of how he protected me from General Xilu, from the witch, how he saved me in the swamp—
Don’t you dare let go.
He should have pushed me in.
When Jin reaches for the empty bowls, I snatch them first, stalking away before he can protest. Once they begin to feel drowsy, it’s safer I’m away, easier to not see this. Out of sight, I drop the bowls to the ground—and then, I wait.
It is quiet when I make my way back to the camp, the heavy type that stirs restlessness rather than calm.
They are all asleep, Lady Ruilin’s head resting on the witch’s shoulder.
Jin is on the far side, slumped against a tree.
I walk up to him, then brush aside the hair that falls over his forehead.
Suppressing my guilt, I turn away, moving purposefully toward the magic-wielder.
Asleep, she looks like a young woman, not the witch she is.
I keep my breathing light, steadying my hands as I draw my dagger.
One quick flick, and the cords of her pouch are cut, my other hand catching it before it falls to the ground.
I squeeze the cloth, feeling the gold chain, then open it to catch a glimpse of the shining stone within.
Darting to my feet, I rush toward the horses.
I need to be far away when they awaken—but then, someone catches me around my waist in a strong grip, lifting me effortlessly as I struggle and kick.
We’re pressed together, then I’m slung around and set roughly on the ground, a hand seizing my wrist in a pitiless grip.
“I didn’t want to believe her.” Jin’s tone is taut with fury. “But it’s true. You are working for Prince Zixin.”
I shake my head, my heart thudding with fear—wrenched by something entirely different. He’s never looked at me this way before: such coldness in his gaze, such anger.
“It’s not what you think.” My voice is thin, wavering.
“Why don’t you explain?” His eyes are dangerously bright. “I’d understand if you were running away, but you stole the starfire.” He leans toward me, and I hate that even now, the scent of him tempts me to inhale deeper. But then he plucks the witch’s pouch from my grasp.
“I’m not a spy.”
“Yet you’re trading the starfire for your ring, aren’t you?” He doesn’t ask it like a question. “Did you play us both, just to get your way? What else did the prince offer you? To share his crown?”
“No! I—”
“Don’t listen to her lies, Lord Jin-Yong,” the witch’s voice rings out as she strides forward. “You didn’t believe me when I told you she would betray us—only when I woke you from her drug and showed you the proof.” She jerks her head at me. “Let me punish her as she deserves.”
Despair clutches me, loosening my tongue. “I know where the creature is,” I say quickly. “Give me the starfire, let me go, and I’ll tell you.” This is the last thing I have left to trade.
Jin’s jaw clenches. “If this is true, you kept this from me; you lied.”
“You didn’t get my ring back,” I retort. “What if you abandoned me once I gave you everything you sought? You forced me to follow you to the Land Beyond. I had to help myself because you didn’t keep your word.” I hold tight to my anger because when I’m mad at him, I’m not mad at myself.
“I would have kept my promise to you, but it was too dangerous to bring the starfire to the Palace of Nine Hills. Why couldn’t you wait a little longer?
” He speaks gravely, his gaze intent. “I know your life has been difficult, nor am I one to trust easily. But I thought what we had was different. Don’t only expect the worst of everyone—when you bet against yourself, you’ll lose even if you’re right. ”
At the look on his face, a different kind of pain stabs my heart. I hate his disappointment more than his rage. But I harden myself to ask, “Will you agree to my terms?”
He shakes his head. “I won’t make deals with those I don’t trust. And I know you’ll say anything to get your way.”
“Lord Jin-Yong, I’ll extract whatever secrets she’s keeping,” the witch offers, fingering her blade. “If you’re squeamish about blood, there are herbs—”
“No,” he bites out, part of me crumpling with relief. “She will come with us, bound if need be. But you are not to harm her in any way; she is my responsibility.” He bends his head to mine, whispering in my ear. “And you will tell me everything I want to know.”
A shudder courses through me, but I lift my chin defiantly. “I’ll never tell you; I’ll bury the secret if you hold me against my will.”
“She’s all yours, Lord Jin-Yong,” the witch says with a derisive laugh. “You will have to answer to the Elders if anything goes wrong. Just give me the starfire.”
The witch snatches the pouch from Jin. As he rounds on her, distracted—I kick at him to break free. And then, I run.
My feet fly over the pitted ground. It’s been a while since I’ve raced like this, softened from life in the palace, the horses of Thorn Valley. The wind rushes in my face, my lungs burning. If I stop, I’m dead.
As a slithering sound erupts behind me, I force my legs to quicken.
A vine hurtles forward, wrapping around my ankle and yanking hard.
I fall, my face slamming against the earth.
I scramble up, spitting out the dirt, drawing my dagger to cut the vine—but another lashes out to seize my wrist. Footsteps crunch behind me, my blood running cold, my throat bone-dry.
The witch’s eyes are as bright as a viper’s as she stalks toward me slowly, like she’s savoring my terror. “I was right not to trust you. Those from the Iron Mountains are liars, thieves, and murderers.”
As her hand curls into a fist, the vines around me tighten, squeezing my flesh until it bulges. I try to speak but another vine slithers around my throat, my free hand clawing at it.
“Let her go.”
Jin reaches us, moving between the witch and me. My heart twinges as shame burns—that even now, he’s defending me.
“Get out of my way before I hurt you,” she orders him. “Don’t you want answers?”
He doesn’t move. “Not this way.”
She ignores him, looking at me. “Clever, to cook the night-root with the stew; I didn’t taste it.
But I planted it, I know its secrets and have its antidote.
You should never have been able to even harvest it.
” Her voice hardens. “I decided to let Ruilin rest while Lord Jin-Yong and I dispose of you.”
I struggle against the binds, trying to slash at them with my dagger, but the witch strikes it from my grasp with a sharp blow. As she raises her arm again, Jin grabs it, keeping her from me.
She twists free, her pupils mirroring my petrified face. “You carry a weapon of the Palace of Nine Hills. You’ve been bought by them, no matter what Lord Jin-Yong believes. Tell me why I shouldn’t snap your neck right now.”
“Because I’m not a spy,” I rasp, though it hurts to speak. I yank at the vine around my neck, forcing it to loosen. “Because I’m not trying to hurt any of you—I just want to save myself.”
“As much as I dislike the heir of Thorn Valley, he deserves better than you,” she says scathingly, one of her poisoned knives glinting in her hand.
As her blade descends, my hand flies up to cover my head—a coolness gliding across my skin, suffusing it with light. Is Jin shielding me, using the power he spoke of earlier?
Yet the witch’s blow never lands. She’s dropped the knife, standing utterly still, staring at my palm—the one I’ve been hiding all this while. The imprint of the flower is a deep red, as are the streaks around it.
Her gaze bores into mine like she’s picking me apart. “Night-root isn’t commonly known outside the Land Beyond. How did you learn of it?”
“I heard a storyteller describe it once.” For some reason, I feel compelled to answer her. “When I saw it and touched it… I just knew. I’ve always been good with plants.”
“Your age?” she barks at me.
“Nineteen.”
As she grabs my hand, rubbing at the mark with her thumb, I gasp from the pain. “What is this?” she demands.
Jin pulls her away from me, his expression grim and furious. “Enough.”
She ignores him, staring at me, though not in the same murderous way as before. “How did you get the mark on your hand?”
“I’ve had it since birth—”
“Liar.”
Yet there’s no venom in her tone as she raises her hand to my face.
The jewels on her fingers sparkle, and something else—something I’d somehow overlooked, like it had concealed itself from sight: a ring of luminous stone with a carved flower in the center.
The twin to mine, though hers lacks the shining stalk.
“Your ring,” I choke out. “I have one like it… except with a bright green stalk around the middle.”
“Where is it? How did you get it?” Her urgency matches mine.
“A spirit, in the form of a carp, gave me a flower like the one carved in yours.” I glance down at my hand. “But soon after, my ring was taken from me… and this happened.”
The pain in my head intensifies, a wave of dizziness striking me. If she attacks me now, I can’t fight back—but I don’t think she wants to kill me anymore.
“What is this about?” Jin asks, looking from her to me.
“Everything,” she replies.
The witch raises her hand, her fingertips aglow. At once, the vines restraining me loosen. As I stumble, she catches my arm. “You bear the mark of our rings. My herbs yield to your touch.”
A shaft of light falls upon the witch’s face, the wind pushing the hair from her brow, her neck, revealing a scattering of moles along its curve—just as on the little girl with braids in my dream.
It’s like I’m seeing her for the first time, a warmth stirring in my chest, the feeling I’ve been chasing all this while. “You’re the one I’m looking for.” I speak with wonder, with knowing and shock. “Your face was hidden when I first dreamed of you; I only saw Lady Ruilin. But now, I see you.”
“I’ve been looking for you,” she tells me. “It’s why I left home, why I’m here.”
“Who are you?” I ask.
“Your kin, your family. Your sister.”