He shot up into a sitting position. “You did what? Are you in pain? Do you feel ill?”
I shook my head. “I’m just a little tired. It’s nothing serious.”
And it was true. Save for some fatigue, I didn’t feel significantly different from before. Of course, that didn’t mean that I wasn’t nervous about belated side effects. But it was worth it to have Ren beside me again, to hear his voice, even if it was tinged with disapproval.
“You foolish—” He made a frustrated sound with his tongue. “Why would you do such a dangerous thing? Lady Ming warned you against it!”
I reached for the mala beads around his neck, ignoring him. “How doyoufeel? Judging by how much you’re talking, it appears I was successful.”
My fingers ran over the smooth bone, dismayed to find only thirteen of the fifty-four beads warm. Yuyan had taken all our previous work.
“I’m fine,” Ren said, gently pulling back. He didn’t bother to check the beads himself, understanding enough from my expression.
“But you still don’t have enough qi. We must find other evil spirits to purify. In the meantime, I can give you more—”
“No.” He shook his head. “We don’t know the repercussions of you giving away more qi. You could die, or your lifespan could be shortened. We can’t take that risk.”
“Then we must quickly purify another evil spirit.” I fumbled for my bag. “I’ll study our map—”
“No,” he repeated, stopping me. “We can do that later. First, you need to rest.”
“But your condition—”
“I’ll be all right,” he said, at last gracing me with a reassuring grin. The sight of it made my tiredness suddenly less heavy. “If our adventures together have proven anything, it’s that I’ll not die so easily.”
“Don’t tempt heaven,” I warned.
But he only laughed. “How I missed your straitlaced disposition.”
“You were dead for just a moment.”
“And now you can joke about my death,” he said approvingly. “It seems you aren’t just another stuffy holy servant after all.”
I inhaled through my nose. “That’s not what I meant. And what do you mean, stuffy?”
He ducked to avoid my swinging hand, chuckling. Then his expression sobered, and he said more seriously, “I’m grateful for your qi, Mistress Kang, but you shouldn’t have risked your health to save me.” He frowned, leaning forward. “And didn’t you injure your wrist?”
“It’s fine,” I said, drawing my wrist behind me. It was still throbbing, but I didn’t dare bend it to test the pain. Changing the subject, I continued, “Besides, you saved me first.”
He shook his head. “That’s different. I was already dead.”
“And now you’re not. Shall we just call it even, be grateful to each other, and move on?”
He made a face but didn’t argue further. Instead, he stood and dusted himself off, eyes squinting across the courtyard. I stared at his silhouette, still marveling at the fact that he was alive and on his own two feet.
“Well,” he said, “shall we leave this place before that fire consumes the both of us?”
I glanced back to see that the flames had swept across the eastern wing, red-orange tendrils thrashing above the tiled roofs and casting aside the autumn chill. The sky, once black, was now an ashy orange, the smoke choking out the stars.
I accepted the hand that Ren offered and let him pull me to my feet. My joints ached from kneeling so long, causing me to stumble into Ren with a yelp. His chest was warm and solid and safe. I savored it for a heartbeat before catching myself.
“Thanks,” I muttered, quickly stepping back.
“Of course.” He kept gripping my elbows, steadying me. “Are you all right?”
I detached myself from his hold. “Yes.”
He studied me for a moment longer, his eyes like two cups of black tea warming everything they beheld—including me. I had to look away, focusing instead on the burning buildings behind us.
