All of us accepted a glass. All of us—except Lei, who opted for barley tea instead. I glanced at him curiously, before remembering that I was upset with him.
“To those who make history,” said Kuro, toasting us.
“And to those who live to write about it,” said Winter, smiling.
The sorghum wine warmed me, calming my nerves and settling my thoughts. Over the dining table I scrutinized Kuro, thinking hard.
“What is it?” the rebel leader asked, after he’d eaten twice as much as the rest of us.
“Nothing,” I said.
“You look like you’re scheming.” Lei spoke into my mind.
“Go away,” I replied. I felt the weight of his gaze but studied my chopsticks instead.
“Are you upset with me?”
I said nothing.
“We’ll find another way. Did you think I’d consent to Winter’s plan?”
Now I did look up, the anger I’d been holding back threatening to emerge in a way I could not control. “You think that’s what I’m angry about?”
A long pause, and then: “Is this about Sky?”
For a mind reader, he was awfully slow on the uptake. “Youantagonizedhim.” I thought back to the violent and hateful way they’d fought. The way I’d hidden in the corner, useless, helpless, angry with them, angry with myself.
“He hurt you, Meilin. Is it not permissible for me to loathe him for it?”
I rose abruptly from the table and went to the fire, stoking the flames with a bit too much aggression. Although the air had warmed considerably, gooseflesh still lined my skin. On second thought, it most likely had less to do with the temperature and more to do with the iron Lei had barricaded against the door.
“I feel like this is all my fault,” I finally answered. “I poisoned you, both of you, I corrupted you—”
“No, sweetheart.” The thought he sent me was so forceful it quieted all other noise in my head. “If I am corrupted, it is because of the world, not you. Never you. You who have been a balm to my soul.”
Those words…they were familiar. Because he’d heard my thoughts before. I had spoken to him in my mind, before I’d known he could hear me.
Now I raised my face from the fire and sought his gaze across the room. He was so beautiful to me; that much was unchanged. From the moment I’d met him, I’d thought him lovely. Then my impression had shifted—as I’d witnessed his monstrosity, his cruelty, the lengths to which he would go to obtain what he wanted. It had frightened me, but at the same time, it had drawn me to him.For I’d recognized parts of myself in him—the part of me that longed for love and trust but thought myself unworthy. The part of me that blamed myself for my mother’s passing, yet still—foolishly, perhaps—sought redemption. The part of me—however small—that decided it was less important to be remembered as a hero than to do what was right and good for those I loved. For no one would ever know that Lei had tried to stop Chancellor Sima on his path of vengeance. History would not remember him as anything more than a vain, self-serving prince who had lied and cheated his way to victory. But I would remember. I and Autumn and perhaps his sister, whom he spoke of with light in his eyes. Would that be enough?
And more importantly, was that enough for me?
Kuro and I took firstwatch together, the two of us sitting by the door as the others slept by the fire. Sky, who I knew had trouble sleeping, kept rising to double- and triple-check the locks.
“I saw some dried jujube tea in the storage room,” I said in a low whisper, as Sky sat up yet again, woken by an errant scream in the distance. From our time in the army, I knew he often brewed jujube tea to help him sleep through the night.
Sky studied me in the dim light. I could not make out his expression in the shadows, but I could trace the planes of his face: hard and smooth as marble.
“I’m fine,” he said at last, but there was a note of pain in his voice. Had I hurt him again, unwittingly? But how could I pretend distance between us, when once we had been so much more than strangers?
“You royals are an amusing bunch,” whispered Kuro, as Sky stalked into the storage room.
“I’m not a royal,” I hissed.
“Not yet,” said Kuro with a wink. “If you ask me, my dear, my vote is for the Ximing prince. Much better temper.”
“I didn’t ask you,” I snapped. Kuro chuckled, though I noted the smile did not reach his eyes. Ever since we’d returned from the spirit realm, the rebel leader hadn’t been the same.
“It’s not your fault, you know. What happened to Jinya.”
