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Shiro cleared his throat, lifting an eyebrow in warning as he glanced at Wei and Xifeng. “We should be happy the war between our lands has ended.”

“But for how long?” Hideki asked. “This peace is but a breath withheld. Soon enough, the games will begin again.”

Isao of the elegant mustache grunted. “I’m sick to death of lords and kings and emperors. What do they do but play games and let their people pay the price in blood?Wehave no quarrel with each other,” he added, gesturing between himself and Wei. “Only kings are arrogant enough to believe the world too small to hold other men.”

Wei leaned forward, drinking in their words. “But it must be an honor to fight for king and country. The Emperor’s men came two yearsago to find recruits. I would have lied about my age to enlist, but my parents...” He trailed off. Xifeng remembered how, at seventeen, he had burned to join the war between Kamatsu and the Great Forest, when two Kamatsu nobles had gone against their king’s word, mustering an army against the Emperor in a violent bid for their kingdom’s independence from the empire.

“Enough. The treaty of friendship will be signed, and we must be content.” Shiro turned his handsome face to Xifeng. “Have you and your companion traveled far, miss?”

“Our town is a few hours’ ride from here.” She noticed he did not refer to Wei as her husband. The soldiers all turned to her as she spoke, and she sensed the monks listening as well. “We’re on our way to the Imperial City.”

Ken’s face brightened. “We’ll be traveling companions.”

“You’re going by way of the trading post as well?” Wei asked, moving even closer to Xifeng. “My horse can’t swim the river, as yours likely can, and that is the quicker path.” He looked at the fine black stallions grazing nearby. Even in the dark, they gleamed like living coals, their haunches exuding strength and vitality.

“They were bred in the fields and mountains of Dagovad, so we must take the long road as well,” Shiro said.

Wei’s eyes widened. “Those are Dagovadian horses?” He got up to stroke one of them, his hands running over the mane as though he touched the purest silk. The horse blinked its large, liquid eyes at Xifeng with an almost human expression.

While Hideki spoke to Wei about the horses and Shiro and Isao talked quietly, Ken took the opportunity to sit by Xifeng.

“I heard much about the Great Forest growing up, but I find myself intimidated by how vast it truly is,” he told her. “My grandmothertold me stories of people getting lost in the woods. She said the trunks would move and confuse them, and they would perish from hunger.”

His eyes twinkled, but Xifeng couldn’t help shivering. Even here, on the woodland’s outer edge, she sensed an unsleeping vigilance, as though the trees watched them. “I’ve read a poem about light in the forest tricking the eyes,” she said. “It might make a man suppose a stream faces him when in truth, a rushing flood lies in wait instead.”

“And there are thetengaru,the demon guardians of the forest, who take the form of a horned horse with burning eyes.”

They looked at each other for a moment, then burst into laughter.

“I’ve heard tales of your land, too,” Xifeng said. “Of how the sea has a temperamental nature: gentle one moment, violent the next.”

Ken winked. “It’s said that our king has the power to control the ocean. He ordains storms on purpose so that when ships arrive, Kamatsu is the loveliest sight the weary, weather-beaten passengers have ever seen. I’d love to show it to you.” He reddened when he realized the implication of his words. “How long have you been married?”

“If you asked Wei, he would say eight years.”

“But you can’t be much older than eighteen,” he said, astonished.

Xifeng laughed. “He asked me to marry him when I was ten.”

She remembered how she had kissed Wei that day—their first kiss, and her only answer to his proposal. It had remained her only answer for years, each time he alluded to marriage. Wei as a man still wanted what Wei as a child had wished for, but Xifeng’s heart stayed silent.

Wei turned in their direction, arms crossed, so Ken moved away to sit beside Shiro.

Xifeng closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of the fire on her face. Guma would have lit the candles at home by now, circles of light pushing back the dark. And despite all Guma had done to her, she couldn’thelp praying that her aunt would forgive her. She thought she could hear her whispering, if she listened hard enough.

You’ll never be free of me.

Her eyes flew open.

One of the monks had turned to face her, but in the shadows she couldn’t make out his face—only two eyes. They shone as they caught the fire, beady and lidless, like black jewels.

She gasped, startling a drowsy Wei beside her, and realized then that she had been asleep, possibly for hours. The monks lay motionless on the ground, and the soldiers lay wrapped in rugs and cloaks. She saw Shiro’s diminutive form, a dark lump beside the dying fire. “I was dreaming,” she said. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“For a good long while.” Wei pulled her close to him. “Close your eyes again now.”

Safe within the nest of his arms, Xifeng slept again.

And if she saw more unblinking eyes and smoking incense in the dreams that followed, they had vanished with the moon by the time she opened her eyes again.