I dropped my gaze, folding away these wistful recollections. “Let us get through today before we think of tomorrow. We must keep our minds on what lies ahead.”

His hand touched my chin, lifting my face to his. “I wish I could tell you not to do this.”

“I am glad that you do not.”

Wordlessly, I rested my head upon his chest, sliding my arms around him, stealing his warmth for a moment of comfort. As he clasped me tighter, my fingers glided lower to his waist, brushing the smooth orb of the Sky Drop Tassel. A faint flicker of my power, almost imperceptible, and my energy was leeched from the stone—our link severed. As I pulled away, breaking the embrace, regret yanked at my heart until I thought it would break.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he confessed in a low voice. “I am sick with fear.”

There was so much more I wanted to say to him—tender assurances, words of promise, yet they stuck in my throat. For in truth … I was sick with fear too.

SLEEP ELUDED ME THAT night. From the deep stillness it was far from midnight, closer to the edge of dawn. Rising, I crossed the room to throw the windows open. As the cool air rushed in, the rustling of unfamiliar trees teased my ears, my skin prickling with unease. I felt like a child again, afraid of the monsters lurking in the shadows. Even then, I had wanted to drag them out into the open, to look them full in the face—as nothing could have been more terrifying than the nightmares in my mind.

Not this time.

Someone knocked softly upon my door, unexpected at this hour. Light streaked from my palm, illuminating a lantern, as I hastily pulled on a yellow robe and tied a sash around my waist. My hair, unbound, fell over my shoulders.

“Come in.” I grabbed my bow from the table, more a force of habit than from expecting any real danger.

The doors slid open, Wenzhi standing in the entrance. I lowered the bow at once.

“Are you sure, Xingyin?” He asked gravely. “Not too long ago, you wanted to shoot me.”

“Not too long ago, you deserved it and worse.”

“What about now?”

That inflection in his tone, the light in his gaze stirred something in me. “Why are you here, Wenzhi? Don’t you have other things to do this late at night—petitions to read, court officials to terrify? Sleep, perhaps?”

Concubines to bed. The unwelcome thought seared, and I discarded it at once.

“Undoubtedly,” he agreed, leaning against the doorframe. “There are many other places I should be, which would be far more welcoming than your cold reception.”

“Perhaps you should seek them out,” I said icily, closing the door, but his hand shot out to grip the wooden panel.