She stared at him. An inkling of understanding stirred inside her.
“You truly are no practitioner, then,” he asserted after several moments of silence. His brows stitched together in calculation, but whatever he’d thought to say, he shook away. “You have a strong connection to qì. I had sensed a faint trace of it in Old Wei’s shop earlier and in the chamber at the Teahouse, but nothing else…until now. It seems the Elantian magician unlocked your power when he penetrated the Seal on your wrist. You areaglowwith qì.”
Seal. Qì.
Words she had only read of in storybooks, heard of in old legends.
Lan touched a finger to her forehead. The thrum ofenergies she’d felt after they’d landed in the forest…the way the world had hummed to life in the purest, most incredible harmony she’d experienced. Was it possible…?
The boy tilted his head. The rain was running in rivulets down his black hair, but he looked at her with a spark of weary earnestness. “I know the practitioners of old are spoken of as no more than legends and lore these days. But we exist. We always have. And you…” He made as if to reach for her left arm, then thought better of it and pointed, instead, at her scar. “If you are not one of us, then you have been in contact with one of us. It is a great undertaking for a practitioner to imbue a Seal unto someone.”
Her heart—she had never felt it beat so hard before. Staring at the boy, she had the sudden urge to hold on to him, to make sure he didn’t melt away into the darkness like smoke, like shadows.
Like Mama.
The boy sighed at her silence. “Let me show you,” he said. “Give me your arm. I promise, it will hurt less than what he did to you earlier.”
In spite of everything, she liked the way he spoke: bluntly, honestly, presenting the truth to her no matter how difficult it was to hear. She’d had enough of lies, of things left unsaid.
Lan hesitated. “What will you do?”
He looked tired. “I will place a Containment Seal on the metalwork embedded in your flesh and veins to slow the spread of the silver. I will need to combine it with a Filtering Seal to allow the flow of blood while the metal remains trapped so your arm does not die. Then…I will apply a numbing balm for the pain.”
Slowly, she held out her arm. She forced herself to hold still as his hands came to wrap around her skin, but he was gentle, the barest tips of his fingers grazing her wrist to steady her.With his other hand, he pressed his index and middle fingers to her flesh.
Lan drew a sharp breath. The air seemed to shimmer—not visibly, but in a way that resonated in her soul, like the missing chords to a harmony. Shefeltsomething flow from his fingertips into the flesh of her arm, seeping through blood and bone.
She spoke into the silence. “What did you mean when you said the magician unlocked my power when he…when he penetrated my Seal?”
Surprise flickered on the boy’s face. “Do you know nothing of this Seal on your arm, and why the Elantian magicians might be after you? Specifically, a high general?”
“High general?” Lan repeated, stunned.
“That man reported directly to the Elantian governor of this kingdom. I believe he holds command over all other Elantian magicians. Did you not see his badges?”
“I was too busy looking at his metallic murder-arms.”
The boy frowned. “You are evading my question.”
She wasn’t; she simply hadn’t known how to respond. She thought of the Winter Magician, his eyes piercing her like ice.I thought I recognized the magic from twelve cycles ago: the very one I told myself I would never forget.Then he’d spoken the very words he’d uttered to her mother twelve cycles ago—now Lan understood him.
This time, you’ll give it to me.
Give what to him? A new question formed in her mind, hardening and sharpening until it felt like she’d swallowed a stone. He’d wanted something from Mama, something that Mama had sworn to never give to him. Something she haddiedto protect.
The last thing she’d done before her death was to burn that scar—that Seal—into Lan’s wrist.
And now the Winter Magician was after her.
The boy watched her, waiting for her response. Lan had never trusted anyone in her life with this information—not even Old Wei, not even Ying.
She did not even know this boy’s name.
“I don’t know,” Lan lied. “The magician must have been after me because I killed his general.”
The boy’s eyes might have narrowed a fraction, but he did not press. “You possess a latent connection to qì that the magician released earlier tonight when he pierced your arm with his metalwork magic.” He leaned forward just slightly, curiosity flickering on his face as he studied her arm with the interest of a scholar. “This Seal is remarkably complex, holding many layers…yet I now see that one of those layers was to suppress your natural connection to qì. I believe there are other layers of functionalities woven into this Seal that were not broken through, but regardless…you hold the mark of an extremely skilled practitioner on you.”
Relief rushed through her, so strong she thought she might weep. For twelve cycles, she’d thought of her last memory with her mother as a hallucination born out of the trauma of that day.
