Edan was not smiling when he woke me. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he sat on the edge of my bed. The change in him was subtle, but I noticed it right away.
His shoulders looked lighter, as if a terrible weight had been lifted. His hair was lighter, too, closer to the black of poppy seeds than the black of night, the bridge of his nose slightly more crooked, and for the first time, I noticed small imperfections on his face—a thin scar above his eye that hadn’t been there before, a small mole on his cheek. My heart swelled to see them.
He spoke, sounding strained. “You summoned Amana.”
It wasn’t a question, but I nodded. I sat up. “Last night. When I put on the dress, I went to the Great Temple, and she came to me. She granted me a wish.”
He cursed. “Maia, of all the impulsive, foolish—”
“What else would I wish for?” I said softly. “I love you.”
Sunlight touched Edan’s face, casting upon him a ruby glow as his anger dissipated. The sorrow in his eyes spoke a thousand words. “I should have made you drink.”
“Drink?”
“That potion for your father and brother—there is enough in it for you, too. You would have forgotten me. You would have been happy.”
Now I remembered what he meant. My answer hadn’t changed. “How could I ever be happy without you?” The words choked me, and I realized how true they were. I’d been happy for a fleeting moment this morning, when I’d freed Edan from his oath. But I couldn’t be happy forever. Though I’d refused to acknowledge the truth, deep down I’d known that, in setting him free, I’d ensured that Edan and I would never be together.
“Don’t you realize what you’ve done?” he said. “Bandur will come foryounow.”
“It would have devastated me if you became like…like him.”
Edan shook me by the shoulders. “It will devastatemeif Bandur takes you. Do you not care about that?”
My heart wrenched. I’d never seen Edan look so vulnerable, so sad. I wanted to be with him. My soul burst with it.
You will have to pay the price for his broken oath, Amana had said. But Bandur had not come for me. Not yet, anyway.
“Bandur won’t take me.” My voice shook. “He can’t.”
“I don’t understand, Maia.” Edan’s eyes, so clear and blue I no longer remembered them being any other color, wavered. “What do you mean?”
“You said these dresses are not of this world,” I replied, slowly formulating my lie. “They freed me as well.”
Edan’s gaze was piercing. He didn’t believe me.
“Look,” I said, pushing aside my hair to show him my neck. “There is no mark.”
“There hasn’t been a mark since Bandur transferred his curse to me.”
“And now that curse is broken,” I said. “You’re free—of your oath and of Bandur.” My tongue grew heavy; it pained me to lie to him, yet it was easier than it should have been. A strange, cold feeling washed over me. “We both are.”
A muscle in Edan’s jaw ticked as he searched my eyes. I numbed my emotions, startled by how easy it was to feel nothing—to make Edan find nothing. He had no more magic, no more spells to detect my lie. “You swear it?”
The seams holding me together threatened to burst. I clung to the coldness; I needed it to help me protect Edan. “I do,” I said calmly.
His features softened then. He believed me. “If you and I are truly free, then why do I feel as if we still cannot be together? That the little shophouse by the ocean you dream of is still so far away?”
Drums began to pound, taking away my chance to answer.
“The shansen will arrive soon,” I said. “You need to go. It won’t be long before Emperor Khanujin realizes you are no longer bound to him. He’ll…he’ll change.”
Edan didn’t budge. “Come with me.”
Oh, how I wanted to. But even if I hadn’t been lying about Bandur, I couldn’t. I couldn’t risk what would happen to my family if Emperor Khanujin found outI’dbroken Edan’s oath.
I shook my head sadly. “Go. The longer you stay, the more danger you are in.” I could tell that wasn’t enough to convince him, so I added, “And me.”
