“Maia,” he said. “Calm yourself.”
“I will not calm down!” I shouted. “I was attacked by wolves, and where were you? You came back with a gash on your arm and never explained how you got it. And every time I ask for an explanation, you—”
“I’ll tell you,” he interrupted. He held my hands, but I didn’t remember him taking them. I tried to pull away, but he held on tightly. “I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
I was still upset. “Then why didn’t you?”
“I wanted to protect you,” Edan said, letting go of my hands. “And myself. I didn’t want you to see me for what I am.”
All traces of his usual arrogance were gone. I crossed my arms, not wanting him to know that he’d mollified me so quickly.
“You’re right,” Edan continued. “You should know. It would be good to keep traveling at night, and you’ll need to know the limits of my magic.”
He removed his outer robe and pulled up his sleeve; then he pointed to the gold cuff on his wrist. The one I’d noticed before.
“This is a symbol of my oath,” he said, holding out his arm. “My oath to serve the one who holds my sigil—the amulet you so perceptively noticed the emperor wearing.”
Edan rolled down his sleeve. I swallowed. “So…you didn’t choose to serve him?”
“Whoever owns the amulet is my master.”
“Your master,” I repeated. “Emperor Khanujin.”
“He doesn’t like it when I call him master,” Edan said dryly. “But yes, that’s what he is.”
“But—why?” I whispered. I’d thought enchanters were like mercenaries, free to serve whoever could afford their exorbitant fees.
He shrugged. “It is the price we pay for our power. All enchanters must swear an oath—it prevents us from becoming too powerful, or greedy. Magic is…addictive, you see. And over time, it can corrupt.”
I did see. I remembered how my scissors hummed to me, how good it felt to sew with them. They filled me with such irresistible power, my hands tingled and throbbed even after I used them.
“Can you be free?” I asked softly.
“That’s a challenging question,” Edan said. He lifted my chin and took my hand gently. “Khanujin’s been good to me. It isn’t as bad as it must sound.”
I shivered from the intimacy of his touch. My heart—my rebellious heart—began to race. “And…what if you leave him?”
Edan let go of my chin. “Then I would be trapped in my spirit form forever.”
His spirit form…
“A hawk,” I breathed.
“Clever girl,” he whispered, letting go of my hand.
“But you’re only…only a hawk at night.”
He nodded. “When I’m near my master, I can change at will. It’s useful for spying on people—during the war it was especially helpful. But as I go farther away from him, my nights are stolen from me and I must spend them in my spirit form. My magic grows weaker the longer I am away from my master, until I can no longer transform back into a man.”
A cold knot of fear twisted inside me. “How much time before…”
“Out here?” He kicked the dirt, then sat cross-legged on the ground. “Long enough for us to get back to the palace. Don’t worry about me.”
But I did worry about him. Now I understood the fatigue written on his brow, the hiding and evasive answers.
He brought his forehead to mine. “Cheer up,” he said, his voice husky. “It isn’t so bad being a hawk. I can travel more quickly than I do in my human form, and I don’t need as much food.”
An ache rose in my throat. “Your skin is getting burned.” I’d noticed this days ago, but only now did I bring it up. “You said you didn’t feel the heat or the cold.”
“As I said, the farther I go and the longer I stay away from my master, the less attuned to magic I become.”
“You said that magic was scarce in the desert.”
“That is true. But being away from Khanujin is the real problem. My spirit form instinctively tries to fly back to him every night; narrowing the distance—even for a short while—helps. But we’ve been too far from the palace for quite some time.”
I felt a surge of compassion for Edan, and I knelt beside him. “So your oath…it is for eternity?”
He shook his head. “All enchanters become free eventually. Once we have served a thousand years, our magic leaves us, and we live out the rest of our days as mortals.”
Hope glimmered in me. “How many years have you served?”
“I’m a little more than halfway through my term.”
“Oh.” I swallowed painfully. Edan was over five hundred years old! I could hardly believe it. He didn’t look older than twenty. “Can’t you ask Emperor Khanujin to free you?”
Edan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I used to think so,” he said finally, “but not anymore. His father promised to free me after he unified A’landi. I waited years, but he was always afraid the shansen would rise against him. When at last he resolved to fulfill his promise, he died. And his fears about the shansen came to fruition.”
“But the truce—”
“Tensions with the shansen are still high. The wedding may hold things together for a while, but Khanujin is worried the shansen will betray the truce.”
“That would be dishonorable.”
“Perhaps,” Edan allowed, “but so long as he remains a threat, Khanujin will never free me. Especially since the shansen knows that Khanujin is weak without me.”
“What do you mean?”
Edan’s gaze was piercing. “Khanujin draws upon my magic to make himself stronger, more powerful…more charming. It’s how he wins everyone over. Even you.”
Even me. I flushed, but I couldn’t deny it. The magnetism of being near Emperor Khanujin was hard to ignore. I pursed my lips. “But not Lady Sarnai.”
“I don’t know how she resists. She has no magical ability herself.”
So many things made sense to me now. This was the secret Lady Sarnai had been trying to discover. A secret her own father, the shansen, had kept from her. It was all about Edan. “So that’s why the emperor won’t leave his rooms—because you’re away from him. That’s why he wouldn’t let you go with me.”
“I left his side because a wedding between Lady Sarnai and the emperor is the best option for peace, and I promised Khanujin’s father I would do everything in my power to bring peace to A’landi.”
“You helped Emperor Khanujin win the war.”
“Yes,” Edan admitted, “but at great cost to your people.”
I plucked a handful of grass, then let the wind carry it from my hand. It was blasphemy to speak my thoughts aloud, but I couldn’t help it. “Would you be free if he died?”
Edan turned to watch the horses. They were so happy, munching on a patch of grass. “No, the oath does not work that way. The amulet would return to the sands or the sea, and the first man to find it would become my new master.”
“And during that time—”
“I’d spend it as a hawk,” he said. “During my years between masters, I’ve seen much of the world this way.” A faint grin. “So I’m not really as old as you think.”
His attempt at humor was lost on me. My lip trembled. “What if I steal the amulet?”
“You’d become my master, yes, but also the target of every assassin in A’landi. Maia, it isn’t that easy. Owning the amulet always makes my masters…change. I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.” He became wistful. “I used to be passionate about magic before my oath. I used to believe in the good of magic. In the good of people.” The wind flattened his hair, emphasizing his boyishness as he turned his gaze at me. “You make me remember a part of myself I’d forgotten.”
“Sounds like I’d have liked the old Edan more,” I
said quietly.
“Probably,” he admitted. “He was less proud. More earnest, but also more reckless. More boy than man.”
I gave him half a smile. “You’re still a boy. No man would name his horse Valiant Grace.”
Chuckling, he reached out to touch my cheek. “I wish we’d met in different circumstances, Maia.” He pulled his hand back. “But I came with you to help you. Gods know you need it.”
His closeness made my stomach flutter.
“Which reminds me,” Edan said, as if reading my mind. “No more pretending to be a boy. If people are looking for the Lord Enchanter and the imperial tailor traveling together, it’s better if you’re a girl.”
I brushed back a lock of hair, feeling it curl around my shoulder. It was long enough to braid now, but I missed the way it used to hang down my back.
“Besides,” he added, “I like your hair long.”
My stomach fluttered again, and a blush crept up my cheeks.
“You can pretend to be my cousin again.”
Not your wife? I almost dared to ask. “That didn’t work so well last time. Besides, how can we be family? We’ve been traveling together for weeks, and I don’t even know where you’re from!”
“I don’t know much about you, either,” he pointed out.
The realization took me aback. “You know more about me than I know about you! You spied on me while I was in the Summer Palace.”
Edan’s shoulders shook as he laughed. “Khanujin asked me to keep an eye on Lady Sarnai, who was in charge of the trial. I had no choice but to spy on you all.”
“You spied on me the most,” I said stubbornly.
“Only because you were a girl pretending to be a boy. It was interesting. The others were not so interesting. Or pretty.”
I hid a smile. “So what did you learn about me?”
“You have a weakness for sweets,” he said slowly, “and steamed buns, especially ones with coconut or lotus paste. You’re a talented artist, though your choice of subject is questionable at times.” I blushed, remembering my drawings of Emperor Khanujin. “And your favorite color is blue. Like the ocean.”
And your eyes, I couldn’t help thinking. They were sapphire now, almost, like the depths of the sea. I cleared my throat, certain I was red enough to pass for a tomato.
“But I don’t know what makes you laugh and what makes you cry.” Edan leaned forward, stopping before he drew too close. “Only that you miss your family and your home. Most girls your age are married. Maybe you have some boy in Port Kamalan pining after you.”
Edan’s light tone belied the intensity of his gaze.
I averted my eyes. “The baker’s son asked me to marry him.” I grimaced. “I wasn’t interested.”
“Well, I’m glad. He wouldn’t have deserved you.” He cleared his throat, a tinge of red creeping up his own neck. “I’d love to meet your father and your brother one day.” His lips bent into a grin. “As your husband, it’s scandalous that I haven’t yet.”
“I thought you were my cousin.”
“You were right, that didn’t go so well last time.” His eyes twinkled. “Maybe we should keep pretending to be married.”
“I didn’t say we should be married.”
“And now you’re annoyed with me,” Edan observed. “You twist your lips whenever you’re irritated. It happens often when you’re with me.”
I quickly untwisted my lips. “You enjoy teasing me, don’t you?”
“Being near you is the only thing that makes this enjoyable for me.”
This. Being away from the emperor. Spending each night as a hawk.
“Now that you’re too far to fly back to him,” I began, “where do you go once you change?”
Edan gave a dark smile. “Hunting.”
To my credit, I didn’t cringe. I swallowed hard. “Edan…I’m sorry.”
“It isn’t so bad,” he said. That weary look passed over him again—exhausted, almost haunted. “Not yet. But it will get worse.”
I waited for him to explain.
“The oath knows that I am straying. It will compel me to go back to my master, and punish me if I don’t. There are other dangers as well—the emperor and I have many enemies. If they can’t steal his amulet, they’ll come for me. Especially if they know I am away from him.”
Could Edan be killed? I shuddered, not sure I wanted to know the answer. “Will the shansen send his men after us?” I asked with trepidation.
“It’s likely,” said Edan in a tight voice. “Men first. Then perhaps others.”
A chill swept over me. “Demons?”
“They would be a last resort. Demons are bound in a fashion similar to the way that enchanters are, but to a place—not a master. That makes them harder to control, and often they require a dear price for their services.”
I thought of what Lady Sarnai had said about her father’s dealings with demons, and Yindi’s warnings. “Have you met one?”
“One of my teachers became a demon. Long ago.” Edan saw my fear and said, “Don’t worry yourself over this, or over the shansen. I chose to come with you, and I will stay with you.”
“Except at night,” I said quietly.
“Yes,” he said. “When I am a hawk, you cannot depend on me to help you, but I will if I am able.”
Thinking of Vachir and the other enemies we might encounter on the rest of our journey, I said resolutely, “Show me how to use the dagger.”
Edan had it on him. It was the one I’d seen in his room and in his trunk, with the silvery scabbard and thin red cord.
“The dagger’s blade has a double edge because it is two weapons,” he explained. “One side is best used against man. The other side is made of meteorite and is best used against…creatures I hope we won’t encounter. To unsheathe it, you must grasp the hilt and say my name.”
“Grasp the hilt and say Edan,” I repeated. “That’s simple enough.”
He shook his head. “Enchanters have many names, sometimes thousands. Edan is only one of my names.”
“Emperor Khanujin has a thousand names.”
“He has titles. And a thousand is an exaggeration. It’s more like fifty-two, and they’re all variations on the same thing.”
I crossed my arms, skeptical. “But you, almighty Lord Enchanter, you have a thousand names.”
“Close to a thousand,” he admitted.
“I’ll believe it when I hear them.”
“I wouldn’t want you to hear all of them,” he said, amused. “Some are quite insulting. And untrue.”
“Oh?”
“Sorcerer Who Feasts on Eyes of Children—Enlai’naden. Hateful Master of the Wicked—Kylofeldal. It goes on and on.”
“And the one that unlocks the dagger?”
He waited a beat before answering. “Jinn,” he said. “One of my first names.”
“Jinn,” I repeated.
“Carry it with you always.” He passed the dagger to me, still sheathed. “If someone attacks you, the quickest way is to slice his throat.” Edan pointed at his own throat, drawing a line. “Aim the blade where the pulse beats, then cut across.”
Finlei had tried teaching me to fight when we were children. When will I ever need to fight someone? I’d asked him then.
If only I’d known. I copied Edan’s movement.
“Or you can stab his chest. Here.” Edan wrapped his hand over mine so that we held the dagger together. He raised the blade to his chest, pulling me closer to him. “Aim between the ribs for the lungs, then thrust up for the heart.”
Again I copied the movement, but Edan didn’t let go of my hand. His heart beat against my palm as it landed on his chest. His pulse raced, almost as fast as mine.
Edan’s other arm found my hip; then he leaned forward until he was so
close I felt the warmth of his breath on my nose.
His breath touched my mouth, the softest brush of his lips over mine. I closed my eyes. I couldn’t hear anything, not the symphony of the forest, not our horses snuffling impatiently behind us.
A beat. Two beats. My heart squeezed with anticipation.
Then…Edan let go of my hand.
My eyes flew open, and all the breath I’d been holding in was expelled from me in one quick burst. “What—”
“It’s getting late,” Edan said abruptly, lowering the dagger so that it no longer came between us. “That was a good start, but no more for today.”
I closed my mouth, feeling cheated and dejected. I could have sworn he’d been about to kiss me. I could feel that he wanted to.
“I know you want to bathe. Come on, I’ll find you a better place.”
I followed mutely, kicking at a pile of dirt when he wasn’t looking.
What a confusing, confusing man.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Great Spice Road continued around the Mountains of the Moon, a narrow and winding path through the thick forests hemming in the range. A chill clung to the air as we traveled deeper into the woods, and when I looked up, I saw snow on some of the mountaintops.
I took out the shoes, humming to myself as Opal trotted toward the mountains, and I checked my work from the night before. Only after a while did I realize I was humming the little tune Edan often whistled.
Of course, his enchanter’s ears had heard me. Chuckling, he brought his horse closer to mine so that we rode side by side. “It’s a good song. Quite catchy, if I may say so.”
I wasn’t ready to talk to him. Ever since he’d almost kissed me, the air between us was heavy. Different.
I gave Opal a kick so she’d break from Rook’s side and ride ahead.
“Don’t ride in the sun,” Edan called after me. “Your freckles are multiplying.”
I glared at him, shouting, “You know exactly what a girl wants to hear!”
But I did guide Opal into the shade, cursing Edan under my breath—and my hammering heart. How his teasing got under my skin! How it made my heart pound and set my cheeks aflame. My brothers’ jokes had never done that to me.
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