Yiran nodded along.
“You’ll also have to learn to protect yourself, and you’ll need a spiritual weapon.” Ash slid his blazer back, revealing the pearl handgrips of the two pistols tucked into his holsters. “Like this.”
“Those are your spiritual weapons?” Yiran said, a touch of awe creeping into his tone.
“Hewould bring a gun to a sword fight,” Zizi muttered from behind.
Suddenly nervous, Yiran said, “Let’s tell Grandfather in person.”
“Right. Come on, let’s go.” Ash was vibrating with excitement again.
“Yiran,” Rui said in a sickeningly sweet voice, “before you leave, can you show me where you left my swords?”
Her sword bag was next to the bed. It was bright red in color. Shecouldn’t have missed it when she woke.
“Give me a sec, Ash.” Yiran followed her to the stairs at the other corner of the parlor, aware that Zizi was watching them like a hawk.
Once they were upstairs and out of earshot, Yiran said, “What do you want?”
Rui grabbed his collar and slammed him against the wall. Pain went up his neck to the base of his skull. He was surprised by how strong she was, given her current condition. Was it a result of training?
Her arm was pressed against his throat, one knee rising dangerously between his legs. She leaned in, breaths coming up hot against his cheek. He could see the shadows under her eyes, the sharp edge of her mouth.
“Just what do you think you’re doing? I thought we agreed on our story. You’re not supposed to tell anyone you have magic.”
“If you recall, I never agreed to—”
Rui’s knee slid up.
“Wait, wait, wait—I’m helping you.”
“I don’t need your help.”
“Ash isn’t a fool, but he doesn’t know you lost your magic,” Yiran said. “Nobody needs to know about that part. I’m the only witness to what really happened, and I’m not telling anyone. It’s clear you’re injured, and you have magical trauma. We can say it’s because you fought the Revenant—that’s your excuse for not being able to use your spiritual weapons. That’s your excuse to lay low.Ican’t do anything to hide my spiritual energy or the fact that Revenants are going to come after me. Like Zizi said, I’ve to train to protect myself, and I’ll do that until we figure something out. If the wizard won’t help me, I have to go to the Academy.”
“There is nowe,” Rui said stubbornly. But Yiran could tell she was reconsidering things. Guilt was a powerful weapon, and he had made sure to remind her she’d put his life at risk.
“Look, doing it this way takes the focus off you,” he reasoned. “I’ll hone my skills, learn to protect myself. No one will be the wiser, and you can take the time to recover.”
Rui glared in disbelief. “Hone your skills? But—”
“If I train, I might get to do something useful or kill at least one Revenant before we get you your magic back. Why waste the opportunity?”
The pressure against his windpipe lifted. “Your qi levels are already above what your core can handle.”
“So?”
“It’s too dangerous.” A shadow crossed her face. “Did Zizi tell you that apart from the work they put into training, how powerful a magic practitioner gets to be is solely dependent on the spirit core they’re born with? With your core, the odds are low that you’ll get anywhere.”
“I’m alive, aren’t I?” Yiran said. “I’m already defying the odds.”
“But if you push too hard, you might...” She bit her lip, but he knew exactly what she’d meant to say.
“Everyone dies, sooner or later. Might as well go down in a blaze of glory and take some of those bastards down with me.”
He’d thought hard about it overnight after calling a truce with Zizi. Was magic worth risking his life? Was the Song family name something to aspire to? For the last twelve years, he’d had a good life, leashed to that name and everything that came with it. It would mean nothing now unless he lived it on his own terms.
Rui was looking at him like she was seeing him for the first time. Her gaze stripped him, layer by layer, until he wondered if she could see the true face behind all the masks he wore for the world. Was it a frightening face, or was it a frightened face? Was it a face he would recognize himself?
