“Perhaps,” I said stiffly, unwilling to let go of my anger even as it unraveled with his words.
“In the Eternal Spring Forest, in that wretched cave . . . I rejoiced to see you, yet was terrified that you might die.” He spoke slowly as though the memory pained him. “I owe you my life. Thank you for saving it.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” I said. “It was my choice. My decision.”
“You could have saved yourself, yet you stayed. While in return, I . . . I almost killed you—” His words cut off, his chest heaving. “I will never forget the look on your face when I struck the first blow. It will haunt me for the rest of my days.”
A part of me—a faithless part—wanted to pull him close. To let us comfort each other until we had ripped away those vile remembrances of his sword spilling my blood. My magic, draining his life.
My chest burned like it was crammed with hot coals, but all I said was “I know it wasn’t you. I know you didn’t mean to.”
He fell silent then, even as his eyes held mine fast. “Did you mean what you said in the cave? That you loved me?” He spoke so softly it was almost a whisper.
“Yes.” I inhaled deeply, trying to quash the twinge in my heart. Perhaps it would always be there; I was learning that love could not be extinguished at will. “But I meant what I said after, too, that I will always cherish what we had. And I wish you joy in your life, though I will no longer be a part of it.”
His nails dug into his palm, a drop of blood falling upon a heron’s golden wing. “I thought if we survived Lady Hualing, we still had a chance to find our way back to each other. But I was mistaken, arrogant beyond belief in thinking your path led only to me.”
I started at his words. Was it possible . . . did he think I might have asked for him, as the reward for the talisman?
He continued, his voice laden with regret. “I wish you every happiness. Though he does not deserve you. Though I cannot help wishing things were different between us.”
“Thank you.” The words were awkward on my tongue. Chilled, despite the sun, I crossed my arms in front of me. “Do you still hate me for not telling you?”
“I could never hate you. And it was I who was stupid, refusing to let go when I had no right to hold on.” His throat worked as though he had more to say. “You leave tomorrow?” he finally asked.
I nodded.
“I’ll come with you.”
“Why?”
He shrugged, his tone reverting to the polite detachment which hurt more than I cared to admit. “For the same reason you came with me to the forest. You are entwined in my life, whether we are together or not. I’ll help you because I want to, not because I must. And there is no need for any accounting; what you owe to me, what I owe to you, such debts are meaningless between us.”
Long after he had left, I remained on the marble stool. A gust of wind swept the willow trees down, their branches rippling the lake. The leaves rustled as though whispering the secrets I had just spilled to the world. This had seemed an impossible dream, that I would reclaim my identity and liberate myself from the pretenses of the past. And now, I was one step closer to freeing my mother, to returning home. I had believed this opportunity would bring me unmitigated joy, yet I found it was laced with an incomprehensible bitterness.
29
Round, red lanterns fringed in yellow silk were strung above the stone-paved streets. Trees rustled, throwing their shadows over the pale building walls, the diamond latticework on the doors and windows worn to muted shades of red and green. Gray roof tiles blended into the darkness, a practical choice against the temperamental weather of the mortal world. This village might have appeared dreary in the night, but the luminous lanterns lent it an enchanted glow.
A hundred aromas wafted in the air of foods, perfumes, and mortals. People thronged the streets, most dressed in plain cotton robes, while the more prosperous few were attired in gleaming brocade or silk. Ornaments hung from their waists, some adorned with jade beads or discs of precious metal. Loud popping noises startled me, as bright sparks, shreds of red paper, and thick smoke burst into the air. Firecrackers. Was there a festival tonight? The faces of the villagers were alight with excitement, just as when I had watched them from afar in the moon.
Liwei and Wenzhi stopped outside a large building. A sturdy black plaque hung over its entrance with the characters painted in white:
西湖客栈
West Lake Inn
Gourd-shaped lanterns cascaded on each side of the red wooden doors. Its windows were flung open to the cool night air, music and laughter spilling onto the street. A lively establishment, though my head began to throb from the incessant noise.