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I recoil inwardly, yet a thread binds the prince and me—not our bargain alone, but our past. “I’ll meet him; I owe him this much.”

“You owe him nothing.”

I raise my chin. “That is for me to decide.”

“He’s plotting something,” Jin warns. “Meeting him would play into his hands.”

“I won’t be tricked by him.”

“He is dangerous. I studied him in the Palace of Nine Hills. He’ll sacrifice anything and anyone, for the sake of ambition. Now he’s safe, his thoughts have turned to what he’s lost. He wants his throne back and he’ll use you to get it.” Jin sighs. “You are cleverer than him. But with your past, you are vulnerable—”

The boy who gave me the handkerchief. “He saved me once. But that debt is repaid, there is no further obligation between us.”

“I don’t want you to see him,” Jin says flatly.

“He is my prisoner, Lord Jin-Yong,” I remind him stonily. “I’m here as payment for your service of protecting him.”

“Very well, Miss Yining.” Jin mimics my formality. “I will obey your command.”

We don’t speak the rest of the way to his home. By the sprawling cluster of buildings, we dismount, soldiers taking the reins from us. As we walk through the entrance, I’m eager for a glimpse of Jin’s childhood, who he was then—who he is now.

Vines twist around the pillars masking the cracks in the stone, dandelions speckling the grounds, lanterns swinging from the wooden beams. Gray stone slabs form the pathway, ornamented with painted tiles of birds, many worn to shadows. A vast courtyard is flanked by porcelains urns filled with lotuses, a small stream cutting through with an ornamental bridge. Unlike the cold elegance of the Palace of Nine Hills and the manicured beauty of the duke’s residence in the Amber Forest—flowers bloom in wild profusion, trees towering in ancient majesty.

“Ahead is the main hall.” Jin points out the wide building. “To the right is the herb garden. You might be interested in some of the plants there.”

A troop of soldiers heads left, through an arched gateway. More are stationed outside the closed doors of a room. “Why is that so heavily guarded?” I ask.

“It’s the study that my uncle and I use. The guards are to deter spies.”

“From the Iron Mountains? Do they penetrate this deep into Thorn Valley?” When he doesn’t reply, it dawns on me. “You mean spies from Mist Island?” My home.

“Just as they suspect us of having spies there,” he replies.

“Do you?”

“Not on the island itself. But we hear things, they trickle down to us, plucked from the right sources.”

A stark reminder of the division between our lands, one I must learn to navigate. Jin leads me into the hall furnished with rosewood chairs and tables. They seem plain at first glance but are exquisitely crafted. The ceiling looms high, the night air wafting in from the latticed windows, uncluttered by incense or perfume. While no paintings adorn the walls, more flowers bloom from pots set alongside them.

A man in a purple robe hobbles through the doorway at the end, his beard neatly trimmed—Jin’s uncle.

I clasp my hands in greeting. “You look well, Lord Chao. Is your leg healed?” I ask, recalling his injury.

“It still hurts, but I can walk with this,” he replies gruffly, tapping his staff. “I owe the Prince of the Iron Mountains repayment—though Jin won’t allow me near him.”

“For good reason, Uncle,” Jin replies. “I know your temper well.”

“All I want is an apology from the coward.” Lord Chao raps his staff on the ground with such force, the passing attendants glance our way. He peers closely at me. “It’s about time you came to visit us. Did you know my nephew spent a long while looking for you, before he knew who you were? Whenever we ventured to the Iron Mountains, he would search the towns and villages for the missing daughter of Mist Island, even after everyone believed you were dead.”

It stings. But my sister didn’t forget me—nor did Jin, though I was a stranger to him then.

“Jin has risked a lot for you, rescuing you from the palace. Despite the disguises, the Queen of the Iron Mountains suspects Thorn Valley’s role in helping you escape. More enemy soldiers now guard our borders, straining our forces.” Lord Chao’s tone grows calculating as he adds, “How will you repay him?”

As Jin swings to his uncle, I draw myself up. “Lord Chao, you should have more faith in your nephew’s cunning. I am here now, repaying my debt.”

“Well done, Jin,” he says approvingly, his nephew’s face growing thunderous. “I’ve told him many times to bring you here, that you would help us if you could—”

“Enough, Uncle.” Jin’s voice is dangerously sharp. “This matter is between Yining and me, alone. Queen Chunlei might suspect but she has no proof; our soldiers were masked that day. She’s trying to unsettle us, to make us fall in line. Regardless, the Iron Mountains will invade here, it’s only a question of when.”