“You’ll fall ill if you walk down that hill in this rain,” Ren pressed. “At least wait until the storm has stopped.”
I spun to face the gate again. “Stay with my sister.”
He dashed in front of me and yanked the door shut. “Punish me all you want,” he said. “I deserve it. But don’t throw away your own health.”
“Why would I punish you?” I stared straight ahead. “It’s my own fault for leaving you two together. You’re both liars. My father lied when he said he’d save himself. Andyou—”
When I didn’t finish my sentence, Ren quietly said, “When did I lie to you?”
I’d put every effort into not breaking. I’d been content to live in the numbness, so I wouldn’t have to feel the destructive wrath of my own emotions. But in front of this boy, whom I should despise most, the walls around my mind shattered.
The words shot forth like knives I’d been honing for years.
“You told me you trusted me!” I cried. “But in the end, you didn’t. I warned you against Liqin. I warned that he was plotting against you. But did you listen? Did you even stop to think that your life might not be the only one at stake? Of course not! Because you’re Prince Renshu, the younger son with no claim to the throne. Heaven forbid you should have any responsibility in the lives of this state or a choice in who runs it!”
“I made a mistake,” he said, voice strained. “I know I did. If I could go back and change things—”
“It’s too late,” I snapped. “Liqin won, and perhaps he even deserves it.”
Ren flinched. “What do you mean?”
“Well, he certainly knows what to do with power, doesn’t he?” I swiped the rainwater from my eyes, finding Ren’s silhouette in the dark. “Do you know why you’re so reluctant to be king, Ren? It’s not because you believed Liqin would be the better ruler. It’s because you’re a coward. You’re so afraid of failing, you’d rather not try at all.”
His silence was all the admission I needed.
“We’ve both made our decisions,” I continued, maneuvering around him to shove the door open again. “You wanted freedom that much? You now have it. Live that careless, unrestrained life you so desired. Keep the money you offered me and do with it as you will. I no longer have use of it.”
“And what will you do?” he asked dully.
I smiled in the darkness. “I’ll carry out my duty, as I’vealways done. Goodbye, Your Highness. I hope we never meet again.”
This time, when I strode through the gate, he didn’t stop me. The door swung slowly shut as I started down the stone steps, the rain in my wake weeping the tears I wouldn’t shed.
Ren was gone when I returned. I ignored the ache in my chest and tried to convince myself that it was good that he’d left. He’d live the life he’d said he wanted while I did exactly as I’d promised—fulfill my duty to my family.
After meeting with the caretaker, my restlessness only grew. I couldn’t sit or sleep or stay still at my father’s side, too barraged by grief. I needed to be on my feet, make use of my hands, dosomething.
I realized my father’s burial rites wouldn’t be enough.
He was owed so much more.
Liqin had stolen his life, as well as the lives of many others. The people the crown had sworn to protect—he’d trampled them beneath his feet, all to build his own power. For years, I’d ducked my head, keeping my eyes on my work and my family. But I could no longer ignore the injustice before me. I couldn’t stand aside and be the passive priestess Baba had always taught me to be. Instead, I’d force the eldest prince—and the Sian monarchy itself—to pay for their crimes.
I left a note by Lilan’s bedside with instructions for the caregiver and the name of another priest in town. Then I grabbed my staff and a shovel, and headed out again. Shadows accompanied me as I hiked down the slope, crossed through the sleeping streets, and walked the road south of Baimu to reach the grave of traitors.
Without wasting time wavering at the perimeter, I marchedinto the center of the abandoned meadow, my boots squelching in the mud. The rain had finally weakened into a drizzle, enough to see the ground lit by the glow of my lantern. My instincts shuddered to be so close to the resting place of these wronged men. Echoes of battle cries and sobs whispered past my ears. Though I detected no physical apparition, I could feel their anger and hurt as intensely as if they were chains around my body.
But their rage couldn’t harm me. Not when it mirrored mine.
Shaking off my unease, I set down my lantern and grabbed the spade with both hands, ignoring the dull pain in my wrist. Then I slammed its tip into the earth.
“Jie!”
I jolted, grip slipping from the handle. My head snapped up to see Lilan standing on the edge of the field, her face illuminated by the lantern in her hand. Even from a distance, I could gauge the distress in her deer-wide eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded when she started toward me.
“I followed you,” she said, scowling at the mud that sucked at her soles. “I was worried.”
