Page 57
“It doesn’t matter how close we are to it,” Captain Hong says a little brusquely. “No one can find Mist Island or enter it, nor do we wish to.”
Jin appears then, a black overcoat slung over his arm. He takes the only seat left, beside me, his eyes flicking across my dress before he greets the others.
“Shall I order for you, Sir?” Captain Hong asks him with a note of deference.
Jin glances at the food on the table and shakes his head. “Just tea.”
“Our Honored Advisor is particular, despite claiming he didn’t mind the room and hard bed,” Deng says with a grin.
“I don’t care what I lie on, but I do care what I put into my stomach,” Jin replies.
“What you lie on—or who?” Deng winks at me as he pulls his stool closer to the table. “The Honored Advisor was seen leaving another’s room this morning—”
“Don’t spread unfounded gossip,” Captain Hong reprimands him.
My face burns but I tilt away so they don’t see it. Jin replies curtly, “I heard a cry and thought Miss Yining needed help.”
He speaks so formally, his manner stilted—a sudden desire gripping me to embarrass him. I press my elbows to the table and lean toward him. “The Honored Advisor was most attentive, barging into my room when I was half-dressed.”
“That’s not… it’s not…” Jin scowls, but he can’t deny it—and I’m relishing the rare chance to watch him flounder.
As Deng’s mouth falls open, the prudish Captain Hong choking on his tea—my smile widens. This is far better than shrinking away and trying to hide.
Deng laughs. “Honored Advisor, I didn’t know you had this side to you.” As Jin glares at him, Deng adds in an exaggerated whisper, “Don’t worry, Sir. I won’t tell Shiji.”
An awkward silence falls. “Who is Shiji?” How normal my voice sounds, not at all like my jaw is clenched.
“A friend,” Jin replies.
I shove a bite of porridge into my mouth, tasting nothing, ignoring the cold that slithers through me. The serving girl returns, carrying a plate of limp bean sprouts. It’s the start of the day, and she already looks exhausted, beaten down. But at the sight of Jin, her eyes widen—and when he smiles at her, she smiles back.
“Do you need a bowl of porridge, Noble Sir?” she asks eagerly.
When he shakes his head, the girl bites her lip, glancing at the surly innkeeper. A hard job, serving an endless succession of unhappy strangers, working for a harsh mistress who takes no pride in the establishment.
“He’ll have the same as us, and he’ll pay upfront too,” I tell her.
Jin offers the girl two pieces of silver with his usual indifference to money. But she doesn’t take it. “That’s far too much.”
“What’s your name?” I ask her.
“Mei,” she replies hesitantly, like she’s unused to the question.
I take the silver from Jin and tuck them into her hand. “Keep the rest.”
She doesn’t thank us, but her eyes glisten. “Is there anything else you need?”
It strikes me she must have a wealth of news, listening to the guests. “They say the duke’s daughter was taken by a magic-wielder. Do you know anything more?”
The girl shudders. “I remember when he came to the city, the night of a storm. A cloth was wrapped around the lower half of his face and he wore a straw cloak.”
I set down my cup, exchanging a look with Jin as the soldiers around us stiffen. “The magic-wielder stayed here?”
Mei glances around the run-down room. “Those who don’t plan their travels in advance usually end up here—but they rarely return.”
“How did you know he was a magic-wielder?” Jin asks.
Her forehead puckers like she’s thinking. “Something about the way he carried himself. The air felt different when he approached, just as when he left.”
