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“I hate feeling helpless.” A moment of vulnerability to share something real. Death was not something I took lightly, especially after escaping its merciless clutches. I wanted to fight for my own life rather leaving it in another’s hands.

“There are other things that I could teach you.” He touched the hilt of my sword. “There is strength in this, too.”

“Then teach me,” I told him. “I want to learn.”

He slanted his head back, studying me. “I can’t instruct you if you question everything I say. Will you listen to me?”

“Yes, but only as far as the lesson,” I agreed.

“Will your betrothed object?” he asked, a taut smile on his face.

“He lets me decide for myself. He doesn’t dictate what I should do. He respects my wishes.”

“He sounds as docile as the silk rug beneath your feet.” Zhangwei spoke with equal parts venom and anger as he headed to the door. “We begin tomorrow.”

21

Someone was knocking on my door. Was it Yifei? It was still dark, too early to rise. My mind was fogged with sleep, drifting off once more—but then the doors were pulled apart as someone entered my room. My eyes flew open, staring into Zhangwei’s, as black as midnight.

I scrambled up, glaring at him. “Why are you here?”

“You asked me to train you.” He pulled a robe from my wardrobe, tossing it onto my bed. “Get dressed.”

My fingers crumpled the silk, resisting the childish urge to fling it back at him. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Today, all day, I will be telling you exactly what to do.” He leaned against the wooden bedframe, a slow smile spreading across his face. “If you prefer not to get dressed, I have no objection, though you might scandalize your court.”

As his eyes flicked toward me, then traveled down my robe—I grabbed the covers, yanking them to my neck. All I had on was a thin garment, as I’d slept with the windows closed.

“Vile wretch,” I swore.

He cocked his head, adjusting his sleeve. “Is this how you greet your teacher? Shouldn’t you call me Master?”

“Never,” I flung back. “Now, get out so I can dress.”

He stalked to the end of the room, turning his back as he looked out the window. Quickly, I thrust my arms through the dark-blue robe, knotting a sash around my waist. I cleaned my face and teeth, then combed my hair and tied it back with a ribbon.

“Is there a place we can train around here?” he asked. “Somewhere secluded?”

I bent to slip on my shoes. “One of the old practice grounds for the guards. It’s not been well tended; we’ll have to make do with the weeds. But it’s outside the palace, so we won’t be disturbed—yet close enough, so we’ll be safe. Some of the guards will follow us too.” An almost foolish consideration when I was with him.

He shook his head. “Leave your guards here. This will be pointless if you keep crying out for help.”

I picked up my sword from the table, the black jade scabbard cool to the touch. It felt right in my hand somehow, like it fit. “I will not cry,” I told him.

“Then you’re not trying hard enough.”

* * *

Yellowing bamboo trees ringed the abandoned grounds, their stalks sloping at the top. A wide river ran along the edge, the rush of water a soothing murmur. I’d heard the soldiers used to swim there after a grueling day, the waters deep enough. A red-roofed pavilion had been built in the middle of the field, where the instructors would stand to observe those training. After years of neglect, the wood had weathered, paint peeling from the columns.

Zhangwei examined the place, hands clasped behind his back. Raising his arm, sparks scattered from his fingertips like a drizzle of rain—a whisper of magic compared to the surge I’d sensed from him before. As the lights faded, so did all sound beyond: the rustle of leaves, the thrum of the river.

“This way no one will hear us,” he explained.

“Can your shield be sensed?” I didn’t want to draw any monsters to my home.

“If enemies are close enough to detect this, then it’s already too late.”