I swallowed a sharp response. Although Ren was the second prince, he was still a prince. I couldn’t risk my family’s safety by laying out all my criticisms of the monarchy. Besides, I didn’t want to talk about my mother with him.
“I have a younger sister, Lilan,” I continued. “She takes care of the monastery while I’m working.”
“So you’re the oldest. Of course.” He ignored my glare and asked, “Do you have a husband or sweetheart back home?”
I shook my head, the question making my stomach twist.
“Holy servants are allowed to marry, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” I said. “But finding someone can be… tricky for ganshi priests. No matter how respected you are, few people want their child to marry someone in the business of death. My father was lucky he was so charming.”
“Are you saying you’re not?” Ren said, playful.
I gave him a deadpan look. As soon as I was old enough to understand Baba’s work, I wanted to be just like him. But training to become a ganshi priestess also meant having little time for friends, not to mention the fact that the villagers didn’t really want their children playing with me. Sometimes it was lonely. Still, I had Lilan, and I eventually outgrew the need for other companions.
“I’m sure many men would find you charming,” Ren said.“It’s just… you’re very young to be supporting a family all on your own.”
“What I lack in age I more than make up for in experience,” I countered, the words familiar on my tongue. He was far from the first to question my youth. “Besides, my sister’s contributions are much more taxing than mine. I just guide the dead; she handles everything else.”
Ren sighed, his breath causing the thin Fu talisman to flutter. “You’re blessed to have a family whom you adore and who, I’m sure, adore you equally.”
I was surprised by the envy in his words. “Do you not get along with your family, Your Highness?”
He paused. Then, slowly, he said, “It isn’t exactly an issue of getting along. My mother died when I was ten, and my father has always been domineering in my development, if distant in affection. My older brother, Liqin, cares for me, but he’s often busy fulfilling his duties as crown prince.”
“I didn’t realize the king made him crown prince,” I said.
In Sian, the heir to the throne wasn’t determined by seniority but by the king’s favor. Whomever the king deemed worthy of being his successor would be gifted the heirloom dragon seal, which was said to be made of the first jade ever discovered in the land. But usually there was a public ceremony involving the seal to announce the king’s choice to the kingdom.
“Oh, it hasn’t been made official yet,” said Ren, “but Liqin is the obvious choice. My father has only two sons, and my brother is much older and more experienced than I am.”
“You don’t wish to take the throne?”
“Not particularly.” He shrugged. “I’d rather live a comfortable life free from the pressures of ruling.”
Annoyance flared in my chest. How could he be so ignorant of his blatant privilege? And in front of someone directly affected by his family’s rule?
Ren noticed my frown and clucked his tongue. “What? We can’t all be like you, the dutiful daughter who always does the good and right thing.”
Not always, I almost said, thinking of my side business as a smuggler. But that wasn’t entirely wrong, was it, carrying harmless trinkets and treats across the border? Not when I was doing it to help my family. It was for that same reason that I was even here at all, helping Ren in return for the payment he’d promised.
“And what are you like?” I asked, turning the conversation back to him. “Besides annoyingly talkative, even in a haunted forest?”
He shrugged, answering shortly, “According to my father, I’m also remarkably irresponsible.”
I arched a brow. So he did know.
Mention of his father only reminded me of my own. I could no longer remember a time when my decisions weren’t determined by their effect on Baba, his health and his approval. Throughout my childhood, he’d been my sun, guiding my way, bringing light to my world. Now his warmth was fading, thanks to Ren’s family and the damned fainting fever. But even if others told me there was nothing more to do, I would find a way.
We continued through the wood in silence, the path growing denser and rougher, the air frigid enough to draw clouds from my lips. When we’d first entered the forest, I’d managed to keep my fear at bay by not thinking about it. Death was familiar to me in a way it wasn’t for others. Even so, there was adrastic difference between the quiet dead and a vengeful spirit. Every instinct told me to turn around and leave.
Suddenly, Ren grabbed me by the elbow, his hand cold through my sleeve.
“What?” I hissed, having just yanked my skirt free of a nasty bush. I was fairly certain I’d heard fabric tearing. Another thing to mend.
“Someone’s watching us,” he whispered, staring into the shadows.
I tried to hush my breathing. “How do you know?”
