acrid scent of burning flesh and wood with it.
“Hurry, catch the wind and go!” Peng shouted, racingacross the deck. “If one ember so much as touches us!”
Without warning, her knees buckled, and she slumped to the ground. Chen Yong caught her from behind and held her. Horrified shrieks filled the air, and the choking fumes of smoke and fire grew thicker.
Chen Yong picked her up, and only the feel of his strong arms kept Ai Ling conscious, grounded in reality. She clutched his tunic with tight fists, breathing him in: cotton and sweat and the faint scent of lemon. He somehow maneuvered down the steps, holding her still and gently seated her on a stool in the empty galley.
“You did that, didn’t you?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Unable to answer him, she rested her head in her arms. She was trembling so hard it was difficult to stay on the stool. He brought her water, and she made herself sip it slowly.
“That entire crew will die,” she finally whispered.
“They probably planned the same fate for us.” He sat beside her and held her elbow, his concern a dark swelling around them.
“But you weren’t the one who sent them to their deaths.”
His fingers tightened a fraction. “No. But I would have killed them to stay alive. You did what you had to.”
She wiped the heat from her eyes. “I’m tired of it, doing what I have to.”
He paused, then said quietly, “Your dream of Li Rong was right. You saved our lives.”
She doubled over, hugging herself, unable to look at him.
“Did your necklace glow?” he asked.
Ai Ling snorted, but it came out as a rasp, like a gulp for one last breath. She gripped her clouded pendant and shoved it in his face. “The gods have abandoned me. Abandoned and used me like they did Li Rong.” She yanked on the gold chain so hard it snapped, and the pendant fell.
He caught it in one hand, the motion lightning quick.
She wanted to cry. For Li Rong. For herself. But her eyes remained dry. Her face burned. Her neck. Her chest. “Throw it into the sea,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Ai Ling.” Chen Yong’s voice was rough. He closed a cool hand over her open palm, leaned forward, and cupped her cheek.
Peng bounded in, and Chen Yong jerked back.
“Here’s our heroine!” Peng proclaimed. “Ai Ling, you warned us about the attack. And the fates blew their own flames back at them. It’s a fortuitous sign indeed. The gods smiled down upon us.”
Perfect. She wanted to cackle.
“I’ve asked Lao Lu to sacrifice a chicken. We must givethanks and celebrate. You’ll be the guest of honor.”
At that moment her belt slipped from her waist, and her dagger clattered to the floor. Ai Ling stared at it, perplexed.
Chen Yong bent down and retrieved it for her. “Why is the blade black?”
“I don’t know,” she lied.
Peng drew closer, his brow creased. “Bring it to me. I may be able to clean it.” He studied it for a moment longer before stepping back. “I’ll see you both at dinner. My gratitude, Ai Ling.” He nodded and left.
It took all her strength to hold her head up. She was burning, blazing so hot she was certain that her skin crisped, fell in piles of ash from her bones.
Chen Yong pulled her into his steady coolness, lifted her in his arms, and she rested her head against his shoulder.
She was asleep before he made it to their cabin.
Mei Gui was expecting. Zhong Ye wanted to jump and holler when Silver Phoenix shared the good news. Instead, he grinned widely as if he had drunk too much wine. “Wonderful,” he said.
Silver Phoenix lifted her chin. There was not afraction of handmaid in her. She was too self-assured, too smart…too beautiful.
“That’s the first genuine smile I’ve ever seen from you, Master Zhong.”
His eyes widened. “You share good news.”
“You should smile more,” she said. “You always look so serious.”
She smelled of jasmine and spring. Zhong Ye wanted to pluck the pins from her thick hair
“Hurry, catch the wind and go!” Peng shouted, racingacross the deck. “If one ember so much as touches us!”
Without warning, her knees buckled, and she slumped to the ground. Chen Yong caught her from behind and held her. Horrified shrieks filled the air, and the choking fumes of smoke and fire grew thicker.
Chen Yong picked her up, and only the feel of his strong arms kept Ai Ling conscious, grounded in reality. She clutched his tunic with tight fists, breathing him in: cotton and sweat and the faint scent of lemon. He somehow maneuvered down the steps, holding her still and gently seated her on a stool in the empty galley.
“You did that, didn’t you?” he asked in a quiet voice.
Unable to answer him, she rested her head in her arms. She was trembling so hard it was difficult to stay on the stool. He brought her water, and she made herself sip it slowly.
“That entire crew will die,” she finally whispered.
“They probably planned the same fate for us.” He sat beside her and held her elbow, his concern a dark swelling around them.
“But you weren’t the one who sent them to their deaths.”
His fingers tightened a fraction. “No. But I would have killed them to stay alive. You did what you had to.”
She wiped the heat from her eyes. “I’m tired of it, doing what I have to.”
He paused, then said quietly, “Your dream of Li Rong was right. You saved our lives.”
She doubled over, hugging herself, unable to look at him.
“Did your necklace glow?” he asked.
Ai Ling snorted, but it came out as a rasp, like a gulp for one last breath. She gripped her clouded pendant and shoved it in his face. “The gods have abandoned me. Abandoned and used me like they did Li Rong.” She yanked on the gold chain so hard it snapped, and the pendant fell.
He caught it in one hand, the motion lightning quick.
She wanted to cry. For Li Rong. For herself. But her eyes remained dry. Her face burned. Her neck. Her chest. “Throw it into the sea,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Ai Ling.” Chen Yong’s voice was rough. He closed a cool hand over her open palm, leaned forward, and cupped her cheek.
Peng bounded in, and Chen Yong jerked back.
“Here’s our heroine!” Peng proclaimed. “Ai Ling, you warned us about the attack. And the fates blew their own flames back at them. It’s a fortuitous sign indeed. The gods smiled down upon us.”
Perfect. She wanted to cackle.
“I’ve asked Lao Lu to sacrifice a chicken. We must givethanks and celebrate. You’ll be the guest of honor.”
At that moment her belt slipped from her waist, and her dagger clattered to the floor. Ai Ling stared at it, perplexed.
Chen Yong bent down and retrieved it for her. “Why is the blade black?”
“I don’t know,” she lied.
Peng drew closer, his brow creased. “Bring it to me. I may be able to clean it.” He studied it for a moment longer before stepping back. “I’ll see you both at dinner. My gratitude, Ai Ling.” He nodded and left.
It took all her strength to hold her head up. She was burning, blazing so hot she was certain that her skin crisped, fell in piles of ash from her bones.
Chen Yong pulled her into his steady coolness, lifted her in his arms, and she rested her head against his shoulder.
She was asleep before he made it to their cabin.
Mei Gui was expecting. Zhong Ye wanted to jump and holler when Silver Phoenix shared the good news. Instead, he grinned widely as if he had drunk too much wine. “Wonderful,” he said.
Silver Phoenix lifted her chin. There was not afraction of handmaid in her. She was too self-assured, too smart…too beautiful.
“That’s the first genuine smile I’ve ever seen from you, Master Zhong.”
His eyes widened. “You share good news.”
“You should smile more,” she said. “You always look so serious.”
She smelled of jasmine and spring. Zhong Ye wanted to pluck the pins from her thick hair
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