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The next floor is divided into two bedrooms, both empty. Carpets are thrown across the floor, the curtains slung over the wooden bedposts. With every discovery, the tower seems less a place of torment but a home—an almost beautiful one.

On the highest floor, a garden sprawls before us, one tended by talented hands. The air is warmer here, the grass so soft it feels like walking on a cloud. Flowers and plants bloom alongside herbs and vegetables, many that I’ve never seen before. Thick hedges divide the garden, flowers peeking from the dark leaves.

A light sneeze snaps the quiet. A girl sits on a bench in a corner, reading a book—oblivious to our presence. Wind teases the hem of her apricot robe, cut in the style of the Amber Forest. It’s her, the duke’s daughter, with her brown hair and wide black eyes, just as I dreamed. I brace for a swell of emotion—except there is nothing, just a sinking hollow in my gut… that perhaps I imagined it all. But I cage my disappointment. What matters more than any imagined connection is she’s the key to the starfire, to getting back my ring.

As we approach, the girl leaps to her feet, the book falling to the ground. Her mouth parts to scream, but I move forward, raising my palms.

“Don’t be afraid. We’re here to help you,” I tell her.

“Lady Ruilin, your father sent us,” Jin says in hushed tones. “I’m relieved to find you well.”

She looks better than well; she is radiant. “Father sent you?” Her voice emerges too loud amid the quiet.

“Lower your voice, Lady Ruilin,” Jin warns. “Your captor might hear you.”

As she claps a hand to her mouth and nods, I tug her sleeve. “Come with us. We must hurry.”

“Where is the magic-wielder?” Jin asks, searching the garden. Fortunately, no one else seems to be here.

Lady Ruilin makes a face. “She’s in the courtyard below, watering the statues so they don’t dry out. The spell doesn’t actually turn them to stone but hardens their flesh. The winds are harsh here. If they get too brittle, they crack. They… die.”

My stomach churns, even as it surprises me that the witch would care.

“Do you know how to restore the statues?” Jin asks urgently, thinking of his soldiers.

Lady Ruilin nods. “I heard her mention a flower with black petals.” She walks ahead of us, quickening her pace as she calls out, “I’ll show you where they grow.”

“Speak more quietly,” I remind her as we follow her. Even if the witch is away, we can’t take any chances.

She stumbles over a root then, crying out. I grit my teeth, my patience worn thin. As we round a grove of jujube trees—someone steps forth. The witch, her hood pushed all the way back from her face. Jin draws a slow breath. Her hair is cropped just above her shoulders, her eyes the brilliant green of an ancient forest. She isn’t beautiful in the extravagant way of a peony but sleek and elegant like a tulip. And though she bears no weapon, only a fool would think she needs one.

She raises a finger at the duke’s daughter. “Let her go.”

“You’re the one who kidnapped her,” I fling back.

“She didn’t kidnap me.”

As Lady Ruilin darts toward the witch, I catch her arm. “Are you under a spell?”

“No.” Jin’s tone hardens, his face angled away. “She is doing this because she wants to.”

Anger simmers beneath my fear. “We risked our lives to help you—as did everyone trapped in the courtyard. All this while, you’re in alliance with the witch? Do you enjoy making people suffer?”

Her lip trembles. “No. It’s not like that.”

The witch stalks toward Lady Ruilin. “None of these people came to help you. They’re doing it for themselves, for the prize your father offered.”

“Your father is worried—”

“He’s only worried about his betrothal contract, the one he arranged without asking me,” Lady Ruilin retorts. “I’ve never even met this proposed groom.”

“Maybe you should meet him; you might like him. If not, you could speak to your father again.” I’m trying to persuade her because I need her to return with us—selfish, when I wouldn’t want to be married off either.

“I won’t like him,” she says adamantly, glancing at the witch. “Nor will I let my life be decided for me.”

Her resolve, her clarity of mind—it strikes me then: “There’s someone else.”

She smiles, not denying it. “So what if there is?”