I took another sip of tea, and my sleeves slipped past my elbows, exposing my pallid forearms and the purple-black veins that ran beneath. Under Winter’s gaze I flushed and hastily adjusted my sleeves. But he did not look frightened of me. He looked as if he saw me—and saw the worst.
In his eyes was none of the steadfast optimism that Sky expressed. Instead, I was confronted by bleak cynicism.
“You understand, don’t you?” I asked quietly. I had always felt an implicit connection between us, though we’d never bridged the gap to a closer friendship. Always there was Sky between us, Sky speaking, Sky asking, Sky directing. The youngest Anlai prince was someone who brought people together, but also kept people apart. There was too much life and spirit and energy to him, so that when he was in the room, all attention could be fixed only on him.
Winter and I both preferred to act in the dark. But now, as I watched his closed expression, the polite mask he wore around me, I wondered if this distancing between us had not been intentional. Although he had saved my life on multiple occasions, he maintained a clear distinction between ally and friend.
“Do you know,” said Winter, “I was offered a spirit seal once?”
I looked at him, uncomprehending. I wondered if I was still dreaming. “You made a bargain with a spirit?”
He smiled mirthlessly, smoothing his robes and taking a seat on the low settee across from me.
“No,” he said. “I turned her down.”
I sat back in astonishment. There were few recorded instances of humans being confronted with a spirit bargain—and refusing the offer. I could only think of the Great Warrior Guan Yang, but even he’d given in after multiple rejections.
I looked at Winter anew. Seated as he was on the low settee, hehad to look up to catch my gaze, but this seating arrangement did not seem to irk him. Instead, he looked comfortable lounging beneath me, without concern for hierarchy or social convention.
“Why?” I said at last.
“I understood I wasn’t strong enough to withstand the sway of power. I understood it would change me irrevocably.” He lifted one shoulder. “Sure, I wish I could fight sometimes. I wish I could make those I hate cower in fear. But I like my life as it is. I like it too much to give it up.”
It was that simple, wasn’t it? When confronted with the past or the future, with safety or risk, too often we chose the future, thinking this was bravery. But Winter had looked at his life and thought,I am well pleased with this. And I need nothing more.
If Winter knew the cost of power, then he knew I was paying it now.
“There are ways in which I’ve…changed,” I said cautiously, treading on uneven ground. “You know I’m not the same person I was when I first met Sky.” I swallowed, trying to ease the dryness in my mouth. “But I’m not sure he recognizes that.”
Winter looked out the window, exposing the high planes of his cheekbones to me. He reminded me of a great migratory bird, a wild swan perhaps, or a river crane. Elegant, lovely to look at, yet impossible to pin down.
“My brother’s gift, as frustrating as it may be, is his propensity to hope. He will always believe in the best possible outcome; so much so that I’ve seen his untenable belief manifest in reality.” Winter smiled, lost in a memory I would never know. “He’s always had luck on his side.”
Was it luck, or something much simpler—good looks, wealth, an affectionate mother who told him he deserved the world? Notfor the first time, I could not tell if it was admiration or envy that I felt toward my former commander.
“Give him time,” said Winter, rising to his feet and taking the empty cup from my hand. “He’ll come around.” His tone was polite, and I did not know if he truly believed his own words, or if they were merely pithy remarks meant to comfort a lost cause. I recognized that he was returning distance between us again. It did not matter how much he understood me and the effects of spirit power; he would always choose his little brother over me.
A wave of exhaustion overcame me after that, and I slept like the dead, awakening only to a low murmur in my ear. I felt gentle hands lift me, carrying me down the stairs. Recognizing the shape of him, I fitted my head against his shoulder and slept.
I woke again, this timein my own bed. Sky was composing a letter by my bedside.
“What happened?” I asked him, my voice coming out hoarse.
Sky’s hand moved to cover the letter.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” he said, but I could see the tension in his face, the strain around his eyes that did not ease even when he tried to smile. He’d never known how to lie. “Rest, Meilin.”
“But it’s day,” I said, looking past him to the open window, where gardeners were trimming the rosebushes and cleaning the lily pond. “I need water,” I said to myself, but before I could push off my blankets Sky had already crossed the room to pour me a drink.
I thought of the last drink I’d had—the bitter tea Winter had given me. Had it been sleep-inducing? “Did your brother drug me?” I demanded, struggling to dredge up my anger. I should be angry. Iwas tired of being drugged and coddled and handled like a child who couldn’t take care of herself. I was tired of being misled by those I considered my friends. Yet overwhelmingly I was exhausted, and even the effort of maintaining my anger felt too wearisome.
Sky handed me a clear cup of water, which I inspected thoroughly. I took a small sip. It was water.
“Happy?” he said, but with none of his usual sarcasm. Instead, he smoothed the blankets back over my legs, then rested one hand over my ankle. When he caught me staring, he reluctantly removed his hand.
“Do you need anything else?” he asked me.
“Why are you treating me like an invalid?” I demanded. “What did the physician say?”
