Jade Fire Gold(37)

No other thing in this world is more important to me.





14


Ahn


The last days of summer are relentless. The afternoon sun is so hot and the air so humid that my hair has fallen flat today, plastering itself to my forehead. I wipe my brow with my sleeve and grimace when I see the smear of powder Linxi had so carefully brushed onto my face earlier.

Leiye stands a short distance away, observing my every move. “Again.”

Sighing, I breathe deep and focus. The blue-and-white vase of chrysanthemums on the table in front of me has remained the same all day. Bright, cheerful, and alive.

My father says the only way I can find the White Jade Sword is to master my magic. Only then, will I be able to sense the artifact’s presence. So far, my training has been futile. Sure, I’ve learned the basics of cultivation, how to manipulate my breath, how to control my qì. I can even freeze water at will and move small objects a short distance away.

But the only affinity that matters is the one that killed the two men back in Shahmo.

Every time I tap into that different well of magic, every time I think of it, I shut down. Dread descends, pulling me into shadow. Images fly like jagged stone, shredding my concentration: the pale green glow coming from the two men, their shriveling bodies, the terrible choking sounds they made.

In death, the two men from Shahmo are more present than ever.

I don’t tell Leiye or my father this. Neither do I tell them about the strange dreams and the stranger voice that haunt my sleep.

There’s magic inside you. Reach for it. My father’s voice is firm and comforting in my head.

I weight my stance and raise my hands. Qì flows from my fingertips, like a gradual release of warming air. Magic. But not the one I need. Leiye doesn’t want me to freeze those flowers or draw the water out from the vase.

He wants me to take their life essence.

The pale yellow petals glow in the sun, seeming to exclaim, Alive! Alive! And why shouldn’t they be? How can an affinity like mine—one that steals life—be the only thing that can save the Empire?

Whatever magic I summoned vanishes.

My fingers curl, fighting the urge to throw the vase. I’ve learned quickly to control my temper. We’re in the secluded nook of the western wing, but I’m on guard. The flurry of attendants elsewhere in the palace compound has trained me. They appear and disappear like mayflies, always swarming to help or usher me around. One wrong move from me could end up in either malicious gossip, or worse—I could hurt someone with my magic.

Leiye clears his throat loudly, unperturbed by the heat despite having stood here as long as I have. His white robes are pristine, his hair perfect, that white streak shining softly in the sun. Unlike me, he looks like nobility. He looks like he belongs here. I bet he doesn’t even sweat.

“Try again,” he says, infuriatingly calm.

“Can we take a break?”

He remains stone-faced.

I roll my eyes, masking my fear as petulance. It’s easier that way. “Come on, it’s so hot and I’m hungry.”

“Only if you best me in three moves. No magic.”

“That’s impossible.” Even though he has taught me the basic skills of wielding a sword, I’m no swordswoman.

“Mind over matter. If you think of defeat even before you try, how will you ever win?”

I make a strangled noise, curse words barely held down.

“Fine,” I say. I want this ordeal to be over. There’s no way I can beat him. But I could feign an injury. Maybe that’ll get him into trouble with my father and teach him a lesson. “Three moves.”

He tosses me a sword and I manage to catch it. “I’ll give you an advantage. I won’t draw my weapon.”

He beckons me to attack with a carelessness that grates on my bones. Like all the other swords I’ve tried from the armory, the sword in my hand feels imbalanced and unwieldly. This is a waste of time. But something in Leiye’s expression, that look between disdain and boredom, it wakes a seed of anger—of jealousy—in me.

He has proven himself to my father.

I lunge.

He dodges my first two strikes easily. I retreat, sweat rolling down my back. He beckons again, mocking. I want to slap that smirk off him. But strength and skill are useless here. I have to use my brain. A slight breeze picks up, rustling the dead leaves on the ground. My mind cools. I swipe a strand of hair out of my eyes, a vague plan forming in my head.

I feint the way Leiye taught me a few days back. As expected, he sees through it and sidesteps, swatting me off like I’m a gadfly. I pretend to spin away. At the last moment before my foot lands, I pivot. Thrust my sword. Strike his shoulder.

But there’s no resistance. Only air.

Off-balance, I trip and fall.

I brace for impact but Leiye catches me before I hit the ground. He steadies me back on my feet, strong hands gripping my waist. He doesn’t let go. We’re close. Close enough for me to catch the scent of sandalwood incense on his clothes. To see how his dark lashes line those lovely slate-gray eyes. To feel his heat. To wonder how soft his cheek would feel if I touched it.

A smile ghosts his lips like he knows what I’m thinking.

Ten Hells, Ahn. He burned a man alive.

I shove him back and flick my wrist up. Metal meets skin.

“Three moves,” I declare, ignoring the flush creeping up my neck.