My mouth twitched at this last remark. “Oh?” I said. “And how are your grades?”
Her chest swelled with pride. “Master Shen says I’m the brightest pupil he’s ever taught.”
“More like the only pupil he’s ever taught,” huffed Plum.
At my look of confusion, Xiuying explained, “He’s a new teacher.”
Rouha rolled her eyes. She was only eight, yet her self-assurance and faith in the world far surpassed mine at that age.
“I’ll make you a promise,” I said to Rouha, crouching before her. “If you pass the imperial exams—” Sky raised a brow at this, for women were not eligible for the exams. Not yet. “I’ll come home to congratulate you. And I’ll bring you an enormous gift,” I added, knowing Rouha was a natural bargainer.
“Even if you’re in another kingdom?”
“Even if I’m in another kingdom.”
“Even if you’re off at war?”
I swallowed at this, but nodded. “Even if I’m off at war.”
“Skies forbid,” murmured Xiuying.
Rouha’s face shone, a challenge in her eyes. “See you there,” she said.
“But we’re so, so proud of you—no matter your accomplishments,” Xiuying broke in, shooting me a warning glance. I hurriedly echoed her sentiments.
“Now, go,” said Xiuying, ushering me toward the waiting horse and supplies Sky had prepared, most likely with her help. When she saw me still dawdling, she added, under her breath, “If you want to keep your word to Rouha, you best hurry now.”
But I was dragging my feet for another reason. Someone hadonce promised me he would accompany me to the eternal spring, and I had believed him. In my mind’s eye, I hadn’t intended to go alone.
“Looks like rain’s coming,” said Sky, peering up at the clouds and the Red Mountains beyond us, their jagged peaks like giants’ teeth piercing the sky. I shivered despite myself. “Storm’s heading west.”
I nodded reluctantly. It was best to depart the city now and make haste up the mountain before the storm arrived in earnest. I looked down at my veins—charcoal black—and sensed the weakness of my qi, a ghost of what it once was.
It was time to go.
Trying to ignore the heaviness in my heart, I said my final goodbyes and prepared to depart. It was only when a light rain had begun overhead that another mare skidded into the clearing.
The Ximing prince leapt from his saddle, windswept and out of breath. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, not mincing words for once in his life.
As he crossed the clearing toward me, I examined him in the rain. His damp hair was plastered to his face, which was marred by a new gash below his ear. To my relief he walked with no visible injuries, his broad shoulders straight, his long-legged strides confident and easy.
Just as I studied him, he studied me. His eyes traced over every detail of my body with such attention that I blushed beneath his gaze. It felt as though years had passed since we’d last seen each other, and yet he was familiar to me in a way I could not explain, like a verse from a childhood lullaby, one you never forgot.
“You look well, my love,” he thought to me, a crooked grin lifting his lips.
“I feared you’d forgotten your promise,” I told him.
In his eyes was his answer. He reached me at last and slid his arms around my waist, bringing me to him as if he’d been holding his breath all this time, and at last he could finally draw air.
“Never,” he whispered.
Forty-Five
The snow flowers have bloomed again, as you said they would. You once told me that you had no taste for violence, and I called you a fool, certain that violence would find you regardless of your inclinations. But now I see that I was the fool, for not daring to believe in a world beyond our kingdom’s ceaseless wars. Wherever you are now, I hope you have found that place.
—Tong Peilun, in a private missive to Liu Winter, undated
The journey was long andbrutal. The Red Mountains were notoriously impassable, with their labyrinthine slopes and narrow, crumbling rock ledges. To make matters worse, the air was thin and cold, often permeated by dense mists that obscured our path ahead. In the mist, we could only make out vague silhouettes, and what looked like fierce predators were often just dense forests of twisted pines. Their gnarled roots jutted out of the rocky soil, creating countless opportunities for tripping and falling to our deaths.
