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Wenzhi.

I would not see him; I would ignore him as I had done all the times before. He came more often now, disrupting the wards with careless abandon when he could have unraveled them with ease—just as he had done with those of the Celestial Kingdom. Perhaps it amused him to have them clang through my mind like a gong newly struck. Perhaps it saved him the trouble of rousing me himself. He never ventured to my chamber; maybe he did not know where it was, though I preferred to think he did not dare to. After the initial disturbance, silence would ensue. Yet his presence on the balcony of my home irked me relentlessly like dust in my eyes. Wenzhi was ever patient, only leaving with the approach of dawn.

From the beginning, I resisted the urge to chase him from our grounds. Ignoring him would be the best recourse, denting his iron pride. And I did not like the bitterness and rage his presence roused in me, the memories that seared. Those were sleepless nights as I tossed until the silken coverlet was twisted around my body, my only solace imagining his own futile wait.

The lilting strains of a zither drifted into my room. Beautiful and haunting, yet played so softly I would not have noticed had I not been awake. Each drawn-out note melded into the next, reverberating with restrained passion. The melody stirred an ache within me, an image sliding into my mind of the last time I had heard it—of Wenzhi plucking the strings of his qin just before I had drugged him to make my escape. Rage seared me. How dare he come here? How dare he play this now?

Scrambling off the bed, I pulled on a robe, fastening it with a length of silk tied into a clumsy knot. Snatching my bow from the table, I slung it onto my back, tucking a couple of daggers through my sash for good measure. I moved swiftly but quietly, to avoid awakening anyone—making my way along the corridor, up the flight of stairs. At the top, I pushed the doors apart, stepping onto the balcony.

Wenzhi sat cross-legged on the ground with his red-lacquered qin laid across his lap, his black robes pooling over the stone floor. His long hair was partly drawn into a jade ring, the rest spilling down his back. I could not see his face, bent down, as his hands slid across the instrument’s strings deftly. His fingers stilled—halting the music—as his gaze swept up to mine. My insides twisted at the sight of his eyes, their silvery hue a jolting reminder of his betrayal.

I struck first, channeling coils of air that spiraled toward him. As he leapt to his feet, his body swerved gracefully in evasion. Without a pause, I lunged at him, a dagger in my hand—but he caught my wrist in midair, in an iron grip. I snatched the second dagger from my sash and slammed its tip against his chest just as a shield glimmered over him. It sparked against the blade, a shock coursing through my arm. As my fingers jerked apart, the dagger fell, striking the floor with a clatter. We stood there, locked in place, unsated rage swelling in my chest until I could barely breathe.

“This is a better reception than I anticipated.” He grinned unrepentantly. “If you really wanted to kill me, you would have used your bow.”

“A dagger would hurt more.” Gritting my teeth, I drove my knee into his gut. As he flinched, I wrenched free of his hold—stepping back, out of reach. At once I cast a shield over myself, gleaming as it settled over me.

He tilted his head to one side. “Did you like my playing?”

“As little as I did the last time.” My fingers curled by my side. “Leave. Don’t come back.”

“After all these months of hiding away, of avoiding me, did you come here just to tell me that?”

“I was not hiding; I have no wish to ever see you again.”

His expression was inscrutable. “You seem angrier than the last time we met here.”

“What do you mean? Was it not a dream?” I demanded.

He paused. “Yes and no.”

“An infuriating answer,” I said scornfully. “What despicable magic did you use?”

“I would not do such a thing to you,” he said tightly. “I did not toy with your mind, just your surroundings.”

I did not want to ponder his words nor the meaning in them. “A needless effort.”

“I disagree.” He spoke with an infuriating assurance. “You would not have come otherwise.”

My eyes narrowed as I recalled the silver pin, lying in the drawer I had tossed it into. “Why the pin?”

A small smile formed upon his lips. “I thought you might appreciate the memento. You almost ripped my throat out with it.”

“It was a shame I missed.”

“You did not miss. I stopped you.”

“How brave you were, restraining a helpless captive,” I taunted.

“You are anything but helpless.” His smile widened. “Call it self-preservation on my part. I liked my throat where it was, intact.”

As he moved toward me, I unslung my bow. “Another step, and you’ll get that arrow you so richly deserve. Why are you here? You must know I want nothing to do with you.”

He tensed, almost imperceptibly. “To offer my congratulations. When is the wedding?”

“There is no wedding,” I replied unthinkingly, regretting the words once they were out.

Light flared in his eyes, startlingly bright. “Did he not propose or have you not accepted? According to the rumors, few could conceive of you refusing, though nothing would delight me more.”