A Magic Steeped in Poison (The Book of Tea #1) (11)

“Is this true?” The guard shakes the boy again, demanding a response. I tighten my grip and dig my nails in as well, until the boy is forced to meet my eyes.

Follow my lead, I try to say with only my gaze.

He nods in terror, tears spilling from his eyes now.

“Oh, come off him!” one of the more sympathetic men in the crowd calls out. “He’s just a child.” Other market-goers nod in agreement. The mood of the audience turns from savoring the spectacle to pity for the sobbing boy, and they start throwing coppers at the fruit seller in disgust.

I can’t help but smile as the merchant’s face turns bright red, but he’s not embarrassed enough to counter his greed for the shining coins. He waves the guard off while his fingers reach eagerly for the gleam of coppers in the dirt.

I pull the young boy aside and speak to him quietly, pressing a few of my own coppers into his hand. “Leave the market as fast as you can and don’t get into any more trouble.” He nods and wipes the tears and snot off his face with his sleeve before running away.

I remind myself I should listen to my own advice and leave here before I make another mistake. As I move to leave the marketplace, I catch another boy—this one older, about my age—smirking at me. He looks wealthy, from the trim on his cloak—a merchant’s son, perhaps, or even someone who is noble-born. He smiles at me knowingly, like we are in on the same joke. I feel a twinge of annoyance and turn away. We couldn’t be any more different, he and I, yet he pretends like he understands.

The hour gong rings, time slipping away too fast for my liking. I ask one of the vendors for directions to the teahouse district and he points me down a quiet side alley, assuring me it’s a shortcut.

The alley has only a handful of shops, then shuttered doorways. I hurry down the street, intent on my destination, until a skittering noise above distracts me. I slow down and look up, squinting past the curve of the high rooftops. But all I notice is the glare of the sun behind the tiles.

A shadow passes over me briefly.

Only a trick of the light, I try to assure myself.

I look up again. Still nothing. But the memory of the tussle with the masked thief flashes in my mind.

It’s not until I’m nearly at the end of the alley that I notice a figure watching me from behind a vendor.

Movement. A swath of black.

I take off running, hoping to catch a better glimpse. It’s not the thief. It can’t be.

When I run into the next street, it takes only a moment, then I catch sight of them again: the back of their head, moving quickly through the crowd. I slip between the passersby, but the figure keeps a few steps ahead of me, until I’ve forgotten the number of turns I’ve taken.

The figure is nowhere to be found.

And I’m completely and utterly lost.

Panic drums in my chest again. I shouldn’t have let my curiosity interfere. Quickly, I beg another person for new directions, committing them to memory. But as I turn the corner, a shadow falls over me again.

Don’t let the Banished Prince catch you in the dark.

I take a step back, retreating into a solid body … and an arm that encircles me from behind.





CHAPTER SIX


I react on instinct, stomping my heel onto my captor’s toes. The grip of my tunic is released, and I dart forward, suddenly free.

“Wait!” a voice calls out behind me. “Just a moment!”

I turn and see the young man from earlier—the rich boy who smiled at me in the marketplace—hopping on one foot.

“Please don’t make me run after you,” he says with a wincing laugh.

I take him in—his tousled dark hair brushing his shoulders, the golden warmth of his skin complementing the angles of his face, the glimmer in his eyes, that quirk of a grin. My mother would say he was yù shù lín fēng. The confidence of jade trees in the wind. Someone who takes your breath away.

“I doubt it’s broken,” I retort, not able to offer false sympathy. “Why are you following me?”

He sets his foot down gently and grimaces as he tests his weight. “I was trying to get your attention, but you were in your own world.”

“Where I come from, it’s customary not to grab girls in back alleys,” I tell him.

“Yes, I’m sorry for that.” He brushes the hair out of his eyes, looking contrite. “I … I saw what you did for the boy.”

I gauge his expression. He looks sincere. He looks … handsome. Like one of the boys Shu would flirt with in the village. But as I’ve learned, pretty faces cannot always be trusted, and the pain is his own fault entirely. “What do you want from me?”

“You lied on the boy’s behalf,” he says, stepping closer, his expression turning earnest. “It was … brave. Unexpected. You’re not from around here?”

“How can you tell?”

“You talk in the way of someone from the southern provinces, the words coming from the back of your throat. Somewhere upriver, perhaps? But also, the people of Jia don’t usually go out of their way to stand up for thieves. Too jaded for acts of kindness. You must be a new arrival. And, well … you seem lost. You’ve been wandering about for quite a while.”

Of course I look like a traveler, like I don’t belong. Are all the inhabitants in the city so eager to point out those who do not fit in?