Jade Fire Gold(58)

I grab the ring from her. “Is this real jade?”

She nods, eyes never leaving it.

“This should be enough for our small detour, plus a little extra left over for me. Getting you on that ship is the only way I’ll get full payment from Leiye. Do we have a deal?”

“Where is this safe house?”

I grab a stick and sketch a rough map on the dusty ground. “We have to go south past this canyon to this town.” I draw a circle. “That’s the safe house. It’s a detour from the seaport and we will lose time. But if you insist—”

“I do insist.”

“Fine. We’ll go to Heshi. Once you see that your grandmother is safe, we head back east to Cuihai Port where a captain and crew will be waiting. Deal?”

She bites her lip. “Deal. Are you coming on the ship, too?”

“Of course.”

“How about Leiye?”

Why does she keep asking about him? He gave no indication that they were close or even friends. I hide my irritation and swipe the ground with my foot, erasing the map.

“He has his own plans,” I say.

Finally, she nods. I make a show of looking for the town’s pawn shop. She doesn’t follow me inside. I walk back out with her ring safe inside the pouch in my robes, shaking a money bag so that the coins inside tinkle.

Something flickers across Ahn’s face when she sees me. And it makes me wish I never started this ruse.

I set a brutal pace for the next few days, eager to put more distance between us and the capital. We travel mostly in silence, both too tired and too wary of each other to make any real conversation. Sometimes, I catch Ahn staring at me. People often do because of my scars and eye patch, curiosity overcoming courtesy.

But her glances are different. Less uncomfortable, somehow. Perhaps it’s because she’s used to people staring at her own scar.

She wakes me up three nights in a row, whimpering in her sleep, repeating a question over and over again: Who are you? Each time I think about going to her, waking her so she won’t be stuck in that bad dream. Each time, I don’t move, watching until she falls back asleep.

On the fourth night, I bolt up, dagger in one hand, flames coming out of the other. The lumpy dark shape near me hisses and I touch my fire to the small pile of kindle on the ground.

The light reveals Ahn’s frightened face.

“What the—I could have hurt you,” I say, upset.

She pulls her shawl tighter around her shoulders and retreats from me. “I was hungry. I didn’t want to wake you.”

I grab the rucksack of food next to me and toss it to her. An apple rolls out. She lunges for it immediately and I catch a peep of happiness as she rubs it on her sleeve.

“It’s only an apple. Why don’t you eat the meat if you’re that hungry?” I ask.

“Fresh fruit was hard to come by in Shahmo, thanks to the stupid desert. And I wasn’t born in the palace. I remember what it’s like to have nothing.”

She holds the apple like a child hoarding candy, and it tugs at my chest like a distant memory of my younger self. Relishing each juicy bite, she eats the fruit slowly, stripping it methodically to the core.

She no longer wears her hair in braids like the first time I met her, nor in the sophisticated way that I assume she had to abide by when she was living in the palace. Instead, she has tied it up in a simple high ponytail, loose strands at the sides framing her oval-shaped face. In the rosy firelight, the scar on her cheek loses its severity. The raised silver-white mark reminds me of my own scars, though some of mine are more easily hidden. I wonder how she got hers and if the reason is as unpleasant as mine.

I don’t intend to be friends with the Life Stealer. No matter what Linxi says, I don’t trust Ahn. But I could afford to appear friendlier and gain her trust.

“Tell me about yourself,” I say in what I hope is an encouraging manner.

Her nose wrinkles. “Why?”

I fight the urge to scowl. “We’ve been traveling together for a week and I know nothing about you. Seems like an appropriate question.”

“I like apples.” She takes another bite and chews loudly. I wonder if she’s trying to annoy me.

“What else do you like?”

“Fruit.”

This is more difficult than I thought. Our walls are built high, and I must find the cracks in hers first.

“How about mooncakes?” I say randomly.

“What about them?”

“When we were children, my sister and I convinced our parents to get us several boxes of our favorite mooncakes one Mid-Autumn Festival. Double-yolks with lotus seed paste—the kind with the chewy skin, not the flaky ones. We had an ill-conceived eating competition and stuffed our faces as fast as we could. My sister threw up into the koi pond and I was sick for two days. The fish were fine though.”

Ahn lets out a short laugh before knitting her brows. “That’s a waste of food.”

“We were children, we didn’t know any better.”

“Then your parents should have stopped you. Have you seen how my people live outside of the capital? Most of us barely get by.”

Your people are mine, too. I break a twig in two and throw it into the fire.

Ahn finishes her apple and pushes the core into the sandy soil. Then, pointing her fingers to the ground, she exhales lightly. A tiny crescent-shaped dip appears and transforms into a circle, widening slowly. It suddenly stops and she makes a small sound of disappointment before trying again. She twirls a finger. The soil floats up into the air, bits of sand mixed in. I thought water was her other affinity. But it makes sense that the Life Stealer can control more than one element.