Page 6
His face darkened. “Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head, holding the seed out to him—smaller than my thumbnail, something opaque swirling within like a wisp of cloud. “This fell from the laurel. There is some magic here that I cannot identify.”
He lifted it up, examining it intently. “Cold. Its energy is strong but unfamiliar. Let’s test it.”
As he raised his other palm, the seed floated into the air. Crimson flames engulfed it with a crackle, leaping high then dying out abruptly, leaving the seed charred like a fragment of coal. Relief swept through me that this was no great treasure after all, no mysterious power. Certainly not worth the efforts Master Gang had taken.
“Xingyin, look.”
The urgency in Liwei’s tone startled me. The seed was shining once more like it had shed its outer skin, just a trace dimmer than before. For it to have survived Liwei’s fire intact meant its power was strong.
My magic flowed in a shimmering stream, binding the seed in layers of air, clenching harder until thin fractures webbed the surface. I tensed, channeling more of my energy, intent on crushing it to prove it was of no consequence—but a brightness flared from the seed’s depths, sealing the cracks.
Liwei’s eyes narrowed as he raised a hand to the tree, more flames erupting in thick waves to consume it. As they swept over the silvery leaves and bark, I recoiled, biting back my instinctive protest—I had loved the laurel since my childhood, playing in its shade, entranced by its beauty. As Liwei’s fingers closed into a fist, the fire surged hotter, the bark darkening in patches … yet the flames shuddered and stilled before going out in a hiss of smoke. The gleaming sap spilled forth once again, sliding down the bark in rivulets. A luminous radiance suffused the laurel, the scorch marks fading, leaving the wood unblemished.
“Regeneration. Except I have never encountered anything as powerful,” Liwei remarked, staring at the tree.
I recalled the ease with which my magic had flowed, a far cry from when I had sacrificed my lifeforce to free the dragons. I had recovered here quicker than anyone believed possible. And now I knew why.
“It healed me too. When I first returned I could barely manage the wards, and now … I am almost as strong as before.” Tangled with my relief was a sinking dread.
“I am glad for it.” Liwei tilted his head to me, “But why do you look so worried?”
“What else can this be used to do? What does Master Gang want with it? Who is he? For he is no harmless musician or petty thief.”
“We will find out,” he assured me. “Have you managed to pluck more of the seeds?”
“No. Weapons didn’t work, whether swords or daggers. None of them made a scratch, the marks vanishing as soon as they appeared—just as with your fire. I do not know how Master Gang did it.”
“Maybe his axe was enchanted? Do you recall anything else from last night?” Liwei asked.
I paused, sifting through the blur of my thoughts. “He was strong and quick, surprisingly so. His weapon was able to carve the laurel’s bark, unlike ours, but I sensed no magic around it.”
Something caught my eye then, a cloud descending from the skies, toward the guest wing. Who had summoned it? Trailing the cloud’s path, we made our way swiftly to Master Haoran’s courtyard. Magnolia trees shaded the grounds, their roots rippling over the grass, their branches weaving above a round stone table.
As I rapped upon the latticed door, a muffled oath filtered through, followed by the urgent tread of feet. Liwei shoved the doors apart, the panels flying open. It was dark inside, cloth draped over the windows. Light poured in through the entrance that we stalked through. A heady sweetness clung to the air from the crushed blooms piled into silk bags—some tied shut and others left gaping wide, petals strewn across the floor.
Master Haoran leapt up from where he had been huddled, stacking jars of wine sealed with red fabric into a wooden box. He blinked, a hand thrown up to shield his face from the glare. “Be careful, the light will harm the petals!”
With a surge of my power, the coverings were ripped from the windows, the sunlight streaming in. “Stop the pretense. You’re not here for flowers.”
“What do you mean?” He stared at me blankly. “Why are you here?”
“We might ask you the same question,” Liwei replied coldly. “Why are you leaving so soon, without bidding your hostess farewell?”
“A pressing matter has arisen. Family affairs.” His words fell out awkwardly, strung in haste.
Caught unaware, Master Haoran was as bad a liar as I had been, before my own tongue was gilded with deceit. My mind worked quickly, fragments falling into place: his arrival with Master Gang, his eagerness to ply us with wine, his haste to leave. “Why did you come here? Why did you lie to us?” I demanded.
Master Haoran stiffened, then bolted toward the door. Fiery coils erupted from Liwei’s hand, winding around him like a snake.
“Stop! Spare me! I’ll tell you all I know.” He struggled amid the writhing flames. Yet no stench of burning flesh tainted the air; the fire did not sear but merely held him in place.
I spoke more gently. “The truth is the best chance for you to leave here unharmed.” However, if he had schemed to hurt us, he would find little mercy.
He nodded jerkily. “Queen Fengjin is not my patron. My wines are the best in the kingdom, but those arrogant palace stewards refuse to give me a chance. Her Majesty enjoys osmanthus wines and I … I wanted to win her favor. Master Gang visited my shop and told me of the osmanthus trees on the moon, each flower in perfect bloom. In return, all he wanted was a small favor. It seemed harmless enough, and it was customary to bring one’s hostess a gift.”
“The wine.” I chided myself for drinking it. Master Gang must have added something to it, to put us all to sleep. If I had drunk it last night, I would have slumbered through, ignorant of all that had transpired.
