I drop my eyes, bunching my hands at my sides. “It wasn’t enough. Not that night.”
Even though Wren has made it clear she’s willing to listen, I still haven’t spoken to her about what happened in the King’s chambers. I’d been close a few times, lying in her arms in one of our rooms, wrapped safely in the velvet darkness. But my thoughts never seemed to form into a language I could share. The only time we touched on it was the first time I was to see the King after that night, at a dinner a week later. She’d asked me how I felt; if maybe I wanted to feign sickness to try to get out of it. That she’d help me do the same if he called for me again. But somehow I know he won’t.
At least, not for a while.
The King likes to prove his power, yes. But he’s shown me his insecurities enough times for me to know that he also wants to be adored and admired. And he knows that those are two things he can never force from me.
Wren twines her fingers through mine, my numb skin tingling at their warmth. “You’re stronger now,” she says. “You’re prepared. And you’re not in this alone.” She squeezes my hand. “Do you remember the day of the Unveiling Ceremony? Our maids got us ready together, and afterward you asked me—”
“How I looked,” I interrupt dully. “I remember.”
She loosens a long exhale, wrapping us in a cloud of hazy white. “I’m sorry for what I said then. I was so adamant when I first got here to not let any of you in. To not let any of you want to.” She pulls me closer. “But when I saw you later in your dress, I couldn’t help it. I had to tell you what I thought, because I understood then.”
My brow furrows. “Understood what?”
Wren smiles. “You. The dresses were made to represent us based on the results of our assessments,” she explains. “Mine was everything I’ve been trained to be. Strong, without compromise. Unforgiving. I knew what yours meant the minute I saw you. Your dress showed me that you had strength, but softness, too. A sense of loyalty, but not without fairness. Fight, and mercy. Things I wasn’t allowed to feel. Things I didn’t know how badly I needed.” She brings her fingertips to my cheeks, lacing them through the tangles of my hair. “I knew from that moment that I would fall in love with you. And for a long time, I did everything I could to resist it. But you made it impossible.”
With a sigh, I tuck my chin, nestling into her. Her heart thuds strong and steady against my cheek.
“Lei,” she says softly into my hair, “we can do this another night if you’re not up to it.…”
“No,” I say, drawing back. “Now.”
Gathering a long inhale, I picture all the memories associated with that night with the King turning into little knives in my veins.
Fire in, fear out.
My hands bunch into fists. “All right—come at me.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when she leaps back. With a spin, she slices the side of her hand toward my middle. This time, I’m a little better prepared. I manage to jolt out of the way, though she comes for me again a beat later and has to hold back, her open palm seconds away from cuffing my shoulder.
“Give me a chance!” I say, panting, but Wren moves again, this time lashing out for me with her leg.
She arcs it in a low sweep along the floor, catching my feet, and I fall back, letting out a puff of air as I land heavily on the mossy ground.
She rolls on top of me.
“I thought you weren’t going to hurt me!” I groan.
She flashes a smile. “I only did that so I could do this.”
Her mouth lowers to mine. A familiar heat fizzes along my veins as we kiss, tongue to tongue, lips to lips, our arms laced around each other. I slowly forget about the frozen ground beneath me, the eerie sounds of the forest replaced by the rustle of our clothes and bodies as we cling to each other, our kiss deepening.
Though flashes of that night still come to me every time Wren and I have touched since, and she’s been careful to only take it further when I’ve made it clear that’s what I want, there’s something slightly different about our intimacy now. Still, each time it gets a little easier to stay in the moment, and right now I allow myself to let go. To lose myself in lips and sensation and heat and love.
We’re both panting when we finally draw apart.
“Does every shifu do this with their students?” I say, breathless. “If so, then sign me up.”
Wren gets to her feet, holding out a hand to help me up. “I can give you as many lessons as you like when we’re out of here. But for now, we need to concentrate. I did that to get you fired up. To remind you how naturally you can move your body. You need to home in on that same passion when fighting.” Then she’s lashing at me again, spinning round with a high arc of her leg.
I flail back a split-second before impact. “Aiyah! At least go easy on me.”
She doesn’t smile. “I am.”
Forty minutes later—though it feels like hundreds—I’m doubled over, gasping for air, a stitch winding up one side. I’ve just managed to counter one of Wren’s attacks properly for the first time, ducking out of the way of her right leg as it kicked high toward my head, and knocking into her with my shoulder. It barely shifts her, and she lands easily. But still. It’s a hit.
“That was great!” she says. “Really good!”
“Thanks,” I mutter between gulps of air.
Wren closes the gap between us. She tugs my face up, smiling. “I mean it, Lei. You’re so much stronger than I could ever be.”
I roll my eyes. “What are you talking about? You’re the warrior.”
“Only because it’s all I’ve known. I’ve grown up learning this, how to fight and be brave. You’ve had to find it within yourself, all on your own. That’s real courage.” She looks away, her voice growing quiet. “You know, it’s not too late to back out. I’d understand.”
I slide my arms around her waist. “Well, I wouldn’t. I’m in this now, Wren. I’m all in.”
Her eyes flick back to me, widening—warming—with the double meaning behind my words. I love you. The phrase hovers on my lips then, three words, three simple trips of the tongue. But ever since that night when we first admitted how we felt, I still haven’t spoken them to her. However brave Wren believes me to be, I’m not yet brave enough for that. So instead I press my mouth against hers, hoping she can sense the words in my kiss and know that I mean them, that I love her and need her, and that I’m terrified for these weeks to end because our lives are about to change forever. And some part of me can’t shake the premonition that it’s not going to be in the way we’re hoping.
THIRTY-TWO
PREPARATIONS FOR THE NEW YEAR begin the day before the Moon Ball.
As soon as we wake, we’re herded into carriages and taken to a bathhouse in Royal Court. It’s an impressive four stories, a large central room divided into various areas, the upper tiers circled with balconies decorated with colored silks. I pick up familiar scents in the clouds of steam—calendula, mulberry, passionflower. Homesickness tugs so firmly on my soul that it actually hurts. I could close my eyes and I’d be back there, working in the shop with Baba and Tien, Bao barking and the mixing pots bubbling away.