Jade Fire Gold(84)

Her eyes widen with concern. “Does it hurt?”

“No. It’s strange, that’s all.” I start to comb her hair again.

“I’m going on that ship with you,” she announces.

“You’re staying here where it’s safe,” I say with a sigh. I knew she would bring this up eventually.

“Neither you nor Altan get to decide—my life, my choice.”

“Finding the sword is my responsibility, not yours. I’m the only one who should get on that ship.” I haven’t spoken to Altan—or whatever his real name is—since we arrived here.

Tang Wei waves me off. “You’re not my mother, Ahn. And my mother couldn’t stop me from doing what I wanted anyway.”

“It’s too dangerous. And you’re hurt.”

“I’m not letting you do this alone. I’ll be fine. I can rest on the ship. Don’t try to change my mind because you won’t be able to. Besides, I know the captain. I can get him to stow me away no matter what you do.” Tang Wei smiles and squeezes my hand. “Now, please, make me look presentable.”

I muster a smile back, wondering if she knows that deep down inside, I do want her to come with me. It’s a selfish desire, I know. But I’ve no idea what the sea voyage will bring, and her presence is comforting.

“Have you spoken to Altan?” she asks.

I pretend not to hear her. She sticks her face right in mine so I can’t ignore her.

“Still angry at him?”

I shrug.

“He had his reasons.”

“I knew you’d defend him.” I drop the comb and get one leg off the bed before Tang Wei pulls me back.

“I’m not defending him. I just think you should try to understand what he’s been going through. Wait, hear me out—”

She blocks my repeated attempts to escape. Even when wounded, she’s determined. I make an exasperated noise and sit back down.

“I do think he was wrong to hide his identity from you. But if it helps, he isn’t pretending to be someone else when he’s with you. I’ve seen how he behaves. His lets his guard down around you. The Altan you know—it’s him.”

“Oh, so that annoying, obnoxious, and self-important liar is the real Altan? Good to know.”

“It’s been hard for him to trust anyone,” says Tang Wei, calmly ignoring my childish outburst. “I don’t pretend to understand how he feels, but you are the Life Stealer and the last one was his great-grandfather, the man who did all those terrible things.”

Her unvarnished honesty isn’t something I want to hear. But it makes me think of what happened in the bamboo forest. How that ethereal light shimmered around Altan. Bright and dazzling. How it drew me to it.

How I tried to take it.

It was obvious he couldn’t see that light. Not in the forest, and not earlier in the canyon when my magic first attacked him. The heat of shame scorches my throat. He was the one who stopped me from hurting Tang Wei. He knows what I’m capable of.

Maybe he was right to fear me. Maybe he was right to distrust me.

I school my expression, looking at Tang Wei coolly. “We’re done talking about this.”

She sighs. “Fine. I’m sorry I brought it up. Will you at least let him get on that ship with you? I know he wants to, and it’s not because of the sword.”

Not because of the sword? I refuse to take the bait and ask for an explanation. Refuse to read into what she meant. I get off the bed. This time, Tang Wei doesn’t stop me.

“You must be hungry,” I say, keeping my tone light. “I’ll go get some food from the kitchen for you.”

I leave the room only to walk straight into a skulking Altan in the narrow corridor outside. He’s holding a tray with a bowl of hot soup. He must’ve come here to give it to Tang Wei.

I’ve managed to avoid him for the past few days. But now I’m trapped with nowhere to run except back into Tang Wei’s room. If I do that, she’ll be certain to corner us both and force us to speak to each other through sheer willpower. I could squeeze past. But that would mean having to touch him.

“We need to talk.”

His voice is gravel, the hurt in it plain. His usual cloak of confidence is nowhere in sight. That haughty swagger gone. Just a boy who cares about what I think of him. My resolve wavers, but I keep my gaze cold and my mouth shut.

“I’m sorry,” he tries again.

I stay silent, fiddling with the hem of my sleeve.

“Don’t shut me out,” he pleads. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

The look on his face pushes me to speak. “I’m thinking about how satisfying it would feel to throw that hot soup in your face.”

His shoulders sag. “Go ahead. I deserve it. I’m surprised you haven’t already.”

I reach out to do just that, but my rage is gone. In its place, a deeper, crueler pain remains. I wish it were anger I felt. Anger I can deal with. Anger, I understand. But this caustic taste of betrayal is hard to stomach.

All the things he shared—that we shared. All those late nights on the road, lying awake, talking about nothing and everything until one of us fell asleep. I thought they meant something.

I was wrong.

My hand falls to my side. “Get out of my way.”