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Hurrying onward, I trail the old woman as she pushes the cart of fruit. I brush against her, slipping the silver back into her pouch. As I mumble my apologies, she smiles and then leaves. I don’t know why I did this, just that her despair touches a part of me I thought had turned to stone.

A shadow falls over me. Jin stands there—alone, without the soldiers—his eyebrows arched in a silent question. As he steps closer, the warmth from his body flares across mine.

“You’re the worst thief I’ve ever seen,” he tells me.

“Fortunately, I don’t care what you think.”

As I move aside, he catches my arm. “I know you’re angry with me, Yining. I’m angry with myself for failing you. I will get your ring back.”

“How?” I want more than empty promises.

“We’re working to secure a guard in His Highness’s courtyard—someone new. It’s a delicate situation, so we can’t move too quickly. If we’re careless, it will spoil our chances.”

“Why should I believe you? I’ve seen you lie—”

“Not when it matters.”

Our eyes meet, a current sparking between us. Time stills in this flicker of silence. But then the mark on my finger throbs, a vital reminder to guard myself. I look away from him, pretending to study the market. All around, merchants are hawking their wares: bolts of silks and brocade, combs of polished wood, silver, and jade. The fragrance of perfume and tea twines with the smoky smell of roasted chestnuts. Vendors call out, offering paper cones of candied nuts, sticks of spun-sugar figurines, and steamed buns piled in bamboo baskets. A few sell boxes of small cakes drizzled with honey and chopped nuts. I stare at them, wondering what they’d taste like. While there is silver in my pouch, I’m not accustomed to spending it.

There are other things being sold, rare ones that I’ve never seen before: flowers crafted of precious stones, wind chimes that play wondrous melodies, rabbits with blue eyes, and birds that can repeat our words. These draw the largest crowds, people pushing their way forward to stare at them.

“Come, walk with me through the market,” Jin says persuasively. “These merchants come from all over the realm to trade their wares. We might learn something of use. And I’ll buy you a gift, anything you like.”

A gift. One I get to choose for myself. I imagine strolling the streets with him, examining the wares, trying the different foods—an acceptance hovering on my lips. But then I remember I’m angry with him, that I might have to betray him over the starfire… and I’d be stupid to open my heart any further.

“Keep your gift,” I say stiffly. “I can buy my own.”

“Don’t like owing anyone anything?” he asks perceptively.

“All I need is what you owe me.”

His face shutters as he walks to a vendor, the one with the honeyed cakes that I was tempted by earlier. As he gives her a few coins, she passes him a box. He strides back to me, then places it into my hands without a word. Our fingers graze, kindling a warmth within.

“Not everything is a trade,” he says, his gaze holding mine. Before I can thank him, he walks away.

It’s better this way. Jin and I are safe now, where we are—standing still. I don’t dare want more.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

N ight is spent in restless slumber, trapped between dreams. A girl appears in a field of flowers. She has a small mouth and pointed chin, her hair in two braids. The warmth in my chest when I look at her is the same as when I saw the young woman in my dream, the one running—a wholeness that reaches beyond time, memory, and sense, to fill this nameless void in my heart. Maybe they are the same, this girl a younger manifestation? As she tilts her head up, one of her braids slips down, revealing a scatter of moles on her neck. The skies above her darken, something soaring above, the size of a large bird. My chest spears with sudden anguish. I cry out, bolting upright in bed, my palms damp, my head pounding—my emotions seized in a vise.

Someone raps against my door. “Yining, are you all right?”

Jin’s voice. I dart out of bed, pulling on the clothes I tossed off last night—just as the door is pushed apart. Jin stalks in, but at the sight of me half-dressed, my hair disheveled, he swings around, the back of his neck reddening.

An unexpected urge to laugh grips me, dousing any embarrassment. “Why are you here, Jin? Why are you flushed?” I needle him.

“I heard you cry out… I was worried.”

Unlike his usual calm, these words fragment, his breathing uneven. A lightness rushes through me as I dress slowly, taking the opportunity to study his back, the tautness of his shoulders, how the ends of his hair curl along his nape.

“How did you hear me?” I ask.

“Your room is next to mine.” He turns to me, nodding at the wall. “These are thin, poorly constructed like the rest of this inn.”

His hair is rumpled, as are his clothes, like he pulled them on in a hurry. An image flashes through my mind of him sleeping, his eyes closed, his head thrown back. I clear my throat, my mouth gone dry. “What would you do if there was a trespasser?”

“Wake you?” he says with a grin, himself once more. “You’re skilled enough with a dagger.” His gaze falls on the one left on the table, the gold scabbard gleaming. “A rare weapon. Where did you get this?”