Page 73 of Never Ever After

“Your kin, your family. Your sister.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

M y mind recoils instinctively. The witch—Dian—turned those warriors into statues, she’s been hateful and harsh, she would have killed me if she could. We look nothing alike: she’s taller, fairer, the brilliant hue of her eyes so different from my dark ones. Yet there are traces in their upturned shape, the curve of her chin… and something that goes deeper, without name or reason, an inexplicable, irrevocable sense of knowing.

“You said your family was dead.” My tone is almost accusing as I grasp at threads, still trying to understand.

“They said you’d died with Mother in the Palace of Nine Hills, except your body was never found. I didn’t believe it… because if you were dead, I’d know it here.” As she touches her chest, tears prick my eyes that I blink away.

“Are you sure, Dian?” Jin shakes his head, voicing my question aloud. “There was no sign of her anywhere. I’ve looked in the towns and villages—”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything. Moreover, my herbs would not have yielded their properties to her if they didn’t sense a connection.” She asks me, “Where have you been all this while? How did you get out of the palace?”

“I grew up in a village, a remote one. As for the palace, I don’t recall anything of it, or how I got out…” My voice trails off as I recall the unease I sometimes felt within its walls. Was it an echo of memory, of times I wanted to forget?

“You were probably too young to remember,” Dian says.

“How did you escape detection when you entered the palace for the ball, when you used their iron?” Jin asks.

A chill glazes my skin. If the guards had caught me, I wouldn’t be here—I’d be buried in the bowels of the Shadow Wing. Fortunately, the iron remained unchanged beneath my touch… though the realization jars. I both want and dread this, the desire for power warring with my fear of the unknown.

“Living in the Iron Mountains must have suppressed your magic, all trace of who you are,” Dian says.

“This must be why I couldn’t sense you,” Jin says. “Even when you were right before me.”

“I thought you were clever, Lord Jin-Yong,” Dian scoffs.

“You tried to kill her,” he retorts cuttingly.

As Dian’s face falls, I find myself saying, “It doesn’t matter. Of course, you didn’t know me; we’re strangers, grown up in different worlds.” I say this to comfort her, yet it stings because it’s true.

Jin gestures at Dian’s ring. “The deal we struck… was it for that ring?”

“I was warned that if I lost it, I’d die.” I glance at Dian, willing this to be false.

She nods slowly. “Once we’re bonded with our rings, we can’t be parted from them for long. You don’t die right away but you… wither.”

Jin mutters a curse. “I didn’t know.” As he touches my arm, I step away, remembering the harsh things we said, my anger diminished but not forgotten.

Dian’s tongue clicks impatiently. “You don’t know this, Lord Jin-Yong, because who among my people would remove our rings? The pain is unimaginable; they are part of us.”

“What symptoms do you have?” she asks me intently.

I’m not used to her speaking to me this way, without suspicion or threat. “The mark hurts more, along with the pain in my head. I’ve been taking corydalis root to numb it, but it’s no longer working as well. I tire more easily and feel dizzy at times.” My insides constrict as I force out the question, “How long do I have?”

Dian lifts my hand again to examine the mark. “Two weeks, maybe a little less,” she says at last.

“Two weeks,” I repeat, dazed, weighted down by terror.

“If you’d bonded with your ring longer before it was taken, you’d be suffering worse—your deterioration far quicker, a matter of days. We still have time,” she assures me, yet lines form between her brows. “It was a good idea to use the corydalis. I have more potent medicine you can take to dull the symptoms.”

But none that can cure me.

“How was it that you bonded with your ring so late?” she asks.

“I always had the ring, but it was just a band of wood back then. Weeks ago, a carp brought the flower to me, transforming my ring. It told me this was a gift from my mother.”

“Our mother,” Dian says in a low voice, thick with grief.