I breathed. And let go.
CHAPTER 27
As the air flooded into my lungs and my mind slowly returned to the waking world, I felt arms cradling my head. Someone was weeping. Their tears trickled off my cheek, seeping into my hair.
There were other sounds too—the huffs of heavy breaths intermingled with frustrated grunts. The scraping of boots against gravel. Swords singing as they clanged against each other.
But my consciousness didn’t immediately react to the danger of those noises.
I pushed my eyelids open, squinting at the sunlight half hidden behind the head bent over mine. Finally, my senses stirred as I recognized Ren’s grief-stricken face.
I’d seen him despondent before. I’d also seen flickers of anger, annoyance, hurt. But I’d never seen him cry. He was too good at bandaging his concerns with his natural lightheartedness. A lightheartedness that seemed entirely forgotten now.
Suddenly, the resentment that’d bound us together duringour last meeting unraveled, and all I wanted was to hear his laugh.
“Ren,” I whispered, my own eyes stinging.
He swiped away his tears and stared at me in shock. His fingers grazed my cheek, trembling and stained with blood—my blood. That was new; I’d gotten used to him being the broken one. Now our roles had reversed.
“Siying?” he gasped, sweeping his arms around my shoulders and holding me closer. “Thank the heavens—I thought I’d lost you.”
“Not yet,” I croaked.
He leaned back to study me, worry creasing his brow. “How—how do you feel?”
As my mind woke, so did the rest of my body. I grew aware of a sharp pain in the side of my head, as if someone had struck me with a hammer. My hip and ribs ached as well, and I could feel open wounds stinging all over.
“Like death,” I muttered. “What happened?”
Behind him, the sounds of fighting persisted, but I couldn’t see what was happening.
“You hit your head on the edge of the veranda,” Ren replied, voice pained. He brushed his forehead against mine, his skin soft and warm. Liquid sunlight pooled at the bottom of my stomach. “It was only for a minute, but you weren’t breathing and there was so much blood and—oh gods, I truly thought you were dead. I’m so sorry, Siying. This is all my fault. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve trusted you. And now—”
“I’m still here,” I said, staring up at an impossibly blue sky caught within the square of the courtyard eaves. “And you came here. You came looking for your brother.”
“I was captured.”
“You’re here now. And you—you must be the one to end this, Ren.”
He shifted to meet my eyes again. “I’m not ready.”
In those quiet words, I heard myself objecting to the unfairness of life. But life had never promised to be fair. Neither had death. All anyone could do was believe they were strong enough to survive.
“You’re more ready than you think,” I said, remembering my father’s certainty. “Now help me up.”
“What? But—”
“Do it, Ren.”
He knew me well enough not to protest further. Sliding his arm behind my back, he lifted me onto my feet and kept his hand on my waist for support. His touch calmed the remaining traces of fear in my mind.
My feet bumped against my staff on the ground, the bells ringing. Ren quickly bent to pick it up and passed it to me. Turning, I beheld Anshi and Liqin entangled in a fierce duel, shuffling about the courtyard fringes as they fought to keep the other’s blade away.
Across from them stood my remaining skeleton. It faced me, waiting for my next command. It’d be so easy, especially with Liqin distracted, to plunge the skeleton’s dagger into his back. Or even to snap his neck. My hatred still simmered in my chest, ready to be called upon.
But I didn’t give an order. Instead, I stared at the skeleton poised there so obediently and remembered the most unexpected of facts: In life, it hadn’t been obedient at all. The man it once was had disagreed with his monarch and stood up alongside comrades who felt the same. That man had his own desires, a head filled with joyful memories, and a heart driven byempathy for others. He’d had agency. And Liqin had taken away that agency by killing him.
But I’d done the same by reanimating him for my own vengeance. I’d convinced myself this was what my army wanted. But in all my years as a ganshi priestess, I’d learned that the dead—whether lost, embittered, or afraid—truly wanted only one thing. And that was peace.
