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“There’s no one here but—” I look at the witch. She looks back at me, her eyes like those of a viperous snake. “Her?” A question, and yet the answer unveils itself in the intimate way they speak, how they gaze at each other. This tower, set up like their home.

“She didn’t steal you away; she was helping you.”

I turn to the magic-wielder—she is staring at Jin, no longer wearing his hat as he raises his chin. Her face twists in fury as she points a finger at him. “You.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

T he certainty in the witch’s voice pierces me. “You know her?” I demand, glaring at Jin.

“I suspected, when I discovered the incense in the room and the wind chime,” he replies. “I only knew once I saw her face uncovered.”

“What secrets have you been keeping from your companion?” the witch sneers. “We go a long way back, don’t we, Lord Jin-Yong?”

“Lord Jin-Yong?” I spit the name, confusion turning to anger. “Who are you? I risked my life because of your promises; I need to know they have worth.”

He doesn’t flinch or look away. “I will keep my word to you.”

“Why should I believe you when you lie so easily,” I say bitterly, though I’m guilty of no less.

“I don’t lie when it matters.” His voice begins harsh, then gentles. “This changes nothing. Once we bring Lady Ruilin home—”

The witch’s eyes shimmer, a fragrance drifting in the air—like spring rain. Her palm crackles with light, a vine leaping into her grasp from a nearby tree. Without pause, she flings it at us. I duck to the ground, Jin dipping back to evade the strike—the witch wrenching her arm back to lash him once more. I rush to him, but Jin catches the vine, wrapping it around his fist to yank it apart.

As the witch’s fingers weave through the air, the ground shudders, thick roots erupting from the earth, shredding the once immaculate lawn. They spring up to coil around Jin, binding his waist, one of his arms. I draw my dagger, lunging forward to cut them. I’m still angry at him, I might even enjoy watching the witch thrash him a bit—but I don’t want him dead.

Jin unsheathes a dagger concealed at his side, slashing at the roots again and again, his arm a blur, until all that remains are their fleshy stems on the ravaged ground.

My eyes narrow. “You didn’t seem afraid of heights when we traveled here, and you can fight. Why didn’t you challenge General Xilu on the tower?”

“I couldn’t,” he says, his jaw clenching.

“More lies?” I ask scathingly.

Lady Ruilin sinks upon the grass, trying to flatten the loose soil with her hands. “My garden… you’ve ruined it, Dian.”

“I’ll plant you another—after I’ve gotten rid of our uninvited guests.” Her gentle tone is in stark contrast to the violence she is capable of.

She reaches into her sleeve, something gleaming in her hand that she hurls toward us. Metal whistles—Jin’s body colliding with mine, pushing me to safety—as the witch’s knife plunges past my ear. A second one swiftly follows, grazing Jin’s arm.

He shakes his head like it’s fogged. The wound in his arm appears shallow yet his blood flows freely, a yellowish paste forming over the flesh. “What poison did you taint your knives with?” he demands.

The witch’s mouth curves in a malicious smile. “Does it matter when you’ll be dead soon, Lord Jin-Yong?”

“Give me the antidote. You don’t want to kill me; we’re on the same side.”

My ears prick up. But then the witch laughs, a sharp sound. “You’re wrong. Back home, I’d be constrained by family and politics. But here, no one cares what becomes of you—no one will ever know.”

“Stop making threats you don’t mean.” Yet the color fades from Jin’s face.

“I mean every word,” she tells him icily. “At least you’ll make a pretty corpse when you die smiling.”

Those chopped roots in the kitchen, their yellow edge… she’s poisoned the blades, one of which is tucked by my waist. My throat constricts as a dangerous idea forms. But if I hesitate, Jin will die, and I’ll end up another statue entombed in the witch’s courtyard.

As she circles Jin—I draw the knife I stole, then grab Lady Ruilin. She struggles with surprising strength, yet I tighten my hold, bringing the point of the blade to her neck. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, hoping she doesn’t notice how my hand shakes. “We have to stop them.” Maybe she catches my meaning because her struggles cease, though her breathing is shallow.

The witch’s gaze is riveted on my knife. “Hurt her, and I’ll flay the skin off your bones.”

My insides clench but I angle closer to Lady Ruilin, using her as a shield. “Whether I hurt her or not depends on you. Give him the antidote.”