Page 69 of Never Ever After

“Didn’t you want to leave? Didn’t you ask me to bring you away?” he reminds me.

“To the Amber Forest or the Pearl Ocean, someplace in the Three Kingdoms. I never said I wanted to go to the Land Beyond. My life is here, not wherever you decide is best for me.” Anger burns, a seething coal in my chest. “When I made that deal with you, I didn’t expect to exchange one cage for another. If you tell me I must go with you, that I can’t leave, you’re making me your prisoner.”

The witch fingers one of her knives. “You’re coming, willing or not. If it were up to me, I’d toss you in the swamp, preferably with your throat slit—but Lord Jin-Yong seems to have a problem with that.”

“Don’t threaten her. She has a right to be angry.” Jin doesn’t look away from me, his tone gentling. “I didn’t realize the starfire would be here. Believe me when I say this is important, the most important thing in the world. When we’re safe, away from here, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

It would be too late. Once they take the starfire to the Land Beyond, it will be impossible for me to retrieve it. Already, my symptoms are worsening: the pain, the bouts of dizziness, the creeping fatigue. While I can still disguise these for now, push them to the back of my mind—how much longer do I have? I must regain my ring, though I’ll have to tread carefully in dealing with Prince Zixin, hiding the starfire someplace safe till I’ve secured my own safety—far from Mist Island and from the Palace of Nine Hills.

The sun hangs low in the sky when we are ready to leave. While Lady Ruilin and the witch packed their possessions, I’d headed to the kitchens, then the rooftop garden, gathering any spice or plant that might be of use.

The witch leads us to a stable tucked behind the tower. Our mounts are there, well cared for, though restless and impatient to leave. Jin saddles my horse, then helps me upon it. I let him to avoid rousing suspicion—though after tonight, he’ll never help me again. His hands on my waist sear, stirring memories of the fierce hunger of his touch. But it was just an illusion; I won’t regret what was never real.

In the courtyard, the witch halts her mount. The bronze burners are scattered around the courtyard among the statues, gleaming like mounds of gold. She raises her hands, light gliding from her fingertips, falling upon the braziers. Smoke rises from them, the sweetness of the incense laced with a sharp tang. The air quivers as it warms, the vines shuddering along the wall, loosening around the soldier trapped in their coils. Already, a little color is returning to the statues, though they remain glassy and unmoving. Jin strides toward the figure of Captain Hong, tucking a note into his frozen hand. He bends to take one of the captain’s swords, slinging it across his back with ease.

“Let’s go,” the witch says in that brusque way of hers. “It will take at least a full day for them to thaw completely.”

“Should we wait to be sure?” Jin asks.

She shrugs. “Stay here and find out if you wish. Ruilin and I will go ahead.”

“Afraid they’ll be out for your blood after what you did to them?”

“No.” She tosses her head back. “I just don’t like killing unnecessarily.”

She looks at me when she says this, a shiver gliding across my back. When I take the starfire from her, it will be a theft I’ll savor.

As Lady Ruilin’s eyes linger on the tower behind us, the witch leans across to squeeze her hand. “We’ll find another home. One with a garden twice as large.”

“It won’t be the same,” she says gravely. “But it won’t matter as long as you’re there.”

I catch the smile they share—for a moment, wanting what they have. A distraction I can’t afford. As we ride from the tower, dusk creeps over us, strewn with the first glimmers of stars. In the darkening light, the bamboo trees gleam ash and white, the curves of the hills veiled in shadow.

The witch leads us along a different path from where we came, one that avoids the treacherous slopes and craters, our horses moving swiftly without hesitation. As we approach the chasm, a vast forest looms on the other side.

“How do we cross over?” I ask Jin. “There’s no bridge here.”

He nods at the witch—already dismounted, walking toward an old oak by the edge. As she touches its bark, her lips move like she’s whispering to it. The tree shivers, its leaves rustling as—slowly—it bends to arch over the gorge, its roots pulled from the earth, scattering soil like rain.

My eyes widen as I repress a burst of terror. After everything I’ve seen her do, she still finds ways to surprise and frighten me.

As sweat breaks out across the witch’s face, Lady Ruilin hands her a handkerchief. “Dian, don’t exert yourself too much. We could have gone the other way.”

“Your father’s soldiers are guarding the bridge there. I know you don’t want to hurt them.”

“I wondered why you hadn’t already murdered those soldiers,” Jin remarks.

Her mouth curls. “Those fools thought they had us trapped. I was resting, until they sent those irksome warriors along.” She guides her horse over the makeshift bridge. “We must hurry. If we delay too long, we’ll harm the tree.”

We follow her lead, Jin riding ahead of me. I stare at the oak, thinking of the vines the witch summoned to attack us, the statues in the courtyard. “How did she do it? What magic is this?”

“The people of Mist Island possess a powerful influence over nature. Their magic comes from the elixirs and incense they craft, the secrets the herbs share with them, hidden from others. The strongest among them can summon or coax plants and trees to do their bidding.”

Just as the witch. I observe her pallor and how her shoulders slump. “She seems tired.”

“Magic takes great effort. Sometimes it’s easier to do things without it—except it brings the impossible within reach,” Jin replies.

“How do you know this? I thought your people don’t have any magic?” I ask.