“But only if you tell me your names,” I said, surfacing for air. “One for each day.”
He groaned. “I’m going to have to court you for a thousand days?”
“Is that too long?”
“I was hoping for a hundred at most.”
“And?” I held my breath. I didn’t know what courtship had been like in Edan’s home country, but he’d been in A’landi long enough to know that a man didn’t court a woman without serious intentions.
“It would be no fun for me if I told you all my plans for us.”
“Edan!”
He smiled mysteriously. I had no idea what he was thinking, but the happiness on his face was contagious. I smiled too, warmed.
“It would be easier if you didn’t have to pretend to be a boy,” Edan admitted, “and if I weren’t under oath to serve the emperor. But we’ll figure it out, day by day. I promise.”
“I already know four of your names,” I whispered, placing my hand over his. “And Edan. So it’d be nine hundred and ninety-five days. Tell me your first name.”
“My first name was Gen,” he said. “It’s the most ordinary of names; it meansboy.”
“Boy!” I exclaimed. “That’s hardly a name at all.”
“It isn’t,” he agreed. “My father had seven sons, and by the time I was born, he had run out of names. So that was what he called me. I had no other name until I was much older.”
I opened his hand and traced the lines of his palm. They were long and smooth, seemingly without end. “And what does Edan mean?”
He smiled, his lips parting slightly before they covered mine. “It meanshawk.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Autumn was coming. The summer heat mellowed, and I could feel a chill in the wind; it made the hairs on the back of my neck tingle and my fingers dance past each stitch a beat slower and stiffer than I was used to. In the forest the edges of the leaves were gilded amber, and the verdant landscape bloomed with reds, oranges, and even purples.
We left the Dhoya Forest behind us and made our way back to the Great Spice Road. On the way to Lake Paduan, we passed through a town or two, where I posted letters to Baba and Keton, but we never stopped for long, and always made camp some miles out. Now that we knew the shansen was searching for Edan, we needed to be careful.
Every day I woke at dawn to rekindle the campfire and greet my enchanter when he returned to me, hungry for my touch. Our mornings and days were dedicated to kissing—whether on foot or on horseback. It had to be an enchantment that our horses knew where to go, for Edan and I paid little attention unless they veered off the Road.
The nights grew longer and darker the closer we drew to Lake Paduan, and my sleep grew deeper. One morning I arose late and was just stirring the fire when I spied Edan’s hawk form gliding down toward me.
He landed behind the flaming hearth, transforming into a man. An intense, now-familiar heat rippled through me.
Edan’s eyes were still yellow, and sweat beaded on his temples. He looked tired.
I knelt beside him as he sat against a poplar tree by the campfire. His shirt was misbuttoned, and I fought the urge to fix it for him. “How can we lift your curse?”
“It isn’t a curse; it’s an oath.”
“An oath you can’t break. What’s the difference?”
“There’s no easy answer,” he said grimly. “Khanujin isn’t going to free me unless he is compelled to.”
“Not even after the wedding, when there’s finally peace?”
“I wouldn’t depend on that.”
I lay on the ground next to him, taking in the grove of poplars around us, most of the trees so tall they obstructed my view of the sunrise. I didn’t mind. There was something beautiful about these woods, and I was content simply watching the trees sway, like feathers ruffled by the wind.
“I think about Lady Sarnai sometimes,” I murmured. “Her heart is with Lord Xina. Do you think she’ll ever love Emperor Khanujin?”
