I lean over, allowing my weight to settle on the sword. Pain tightens his face. “What am I to do with you? Do I kill you?”

“Sirscha,” a voice hisses. I don’t turn, but I hear Saengo sliding along the roof behind me.

His eyes close; his mouth pinches tight. The resignation there surprises me. I don’t actually intend to kill him. I only want answers before I hand him to Ronin. Tears seep from beneath his lashes, sliding down his temples into his pale hair.

I startle back, confused by the anguish carving lines around his eyes. In a flash, he rips the blade from his shoulder and springs to his feet.

Saengo makes a strangled sound of warning. I curse and raise the sword to defend against an attack. Instead, he flees and launches himself over the troll bones.

“Wait,” I say, but he’s already scrabbling to get beneath the white drape that separates Spinner’s End from the trees. My heart hammers in my chest. “Wait!”

I gape, jaw hanging loose, as he vanishes into the dark. Should I go after him? What was the fool thinking? I wouldn’t have killed him, but the trees certainly will.

I look up at Saengo. She stares dumbstruck at the place where the shadowblessed had vanished.

“Damn it,” I whisper fiercely, stabbing the sword into the dirt. I approach the palisade, fingers gripping the troll bones. My stomach churns at the idea of entering the trees, especially now in the dead of night, but can I just leave him to die?

“Don’t,” Saengo calls, her voice high and frantic. Her fear rises inside me, even with the barrier between us.

“Damn it,” I repeat, just as the trees groan. I freeze, chills racing down my arms despite that I’m still warm from the fight. I swallow thickly, perfectly still, listening.

Something almost like a scream pierces the night before it’s abruptly cut off. I release the bones, backing away as I slap a hand over my mouth, panting against my damp palm. My heart races; my legs tremble. The trees shift again.

Grabbing the sword, I spin and vault up the wall to where Saengo waits for me. We don’t stop until we’re slipping back through the window into the gloom of the library.

THIRTEEN

The next morning, Saengo and I go over the details at breakfast. Our maid sets for us a meal of spongy rice cakes, bright fruits shaped into whimsical beasts, and a steaming pot of chrysanthemum tea scattered with petals. It’s a bit surreal, like if I rub my eyes, the bounty before us will ripple and vanish.