“And you thought that meant coming with me to Istera to see if there were any spells that could help you?”

“Was it too wishful a thought?” The poor asha sounded so dejected.

“No. I wished you’d told me earlier, Likh. Is that why you chose to come on this journey? To help protect me? I can’t ask that of you, Likh. You’re a new asha, and you have a good career waiting for you in Ankyo. Zoya and Shadi will help you find better clients, make your own—”

Likh hiccupped with laughter. “I wish that were the only reason I’m here. No, I don’t have much of a choice anymore. I had to come. Otherwise, I’d probably be dead.”

“What?”

“Delve me.”

Even before I’d finished the spell, I could see the glowing red creeping up his shoulders. My thoughts turned to ice. Now I understood the odd silence cloaking Likh. Runic wards were suppressing him from using magic—and from having magic used against him. “No. Oh no. Oh, Likh.”

“I’ve been blighted,” Likh said. His smile was both sad and beautiful. “I’m sorry, Tea. I’m not cut out to be an asha after all.”

• • •

The hasty flight from Kion had not been kind to my complexion. Languishing in dungeons for days tended to do that to a person. Khalad told us that the Yadoshans would be waiting for us once we entered Thanh territory, and I’d asked for time to bathe and make myself presentable. The Ashi river, named for the Great Hero herself and very unlike her namesake, was a wide, mellow stream perfect for that purpose.

I held my breath and dunked my head underneath the icy-cold waters. For a brief moment, I was tempted to let go, to drift until I reached the faster currents, to disappear for good. My death, I thought, would solve so many problems. Khalad would get away with aiding my escape by virtue of his position, and Kalen would likely be pardoned for letting his heart overrule his head. Likh would be spared for simply obeying his superiors. If I was being framed for the blight epidemic, then there was no one else to blame. And under closer watch, the Blight spell on Likh would dissipate.

But a new thought entered my head, unannounced and unapologetic for its trespass. It was Fox, sitting in the very dungeons where I had been imprisoned. His expression was relaxed, head tilted toward the little sunlight that slipped through the bars. The Veiling was down, possibly because the Willows warded the prison despite Fox’s lack of magic, though he was oblivious to my presence. I retreated, closing my mind quietly and sealing it shut. He’d been imprisoned in my stead, no doubt accused of helping me flee. That snapped me out of my misery. I came up for air, sputtering.