The Whispering Caves

Over the next month, the Whispering Caves became their sanctuary.

It was a secluded network of caverns behind the waterfall, damp and filled with luminescent moss. Jing liked it because rare mushrooms grew there. Xiulan liked it because it was a defensible choke point where she could hoard him.

"Hold still," Xiulan murmured.

Jing sat on a mossy rock, his legs dangling. Xiulan stood behind him, her fingers weaving through his messy brown hair. She was braiding it.

Her hands, usually gripping a sword capable of severing steel, were incredibly gentle. She treated his hair like spun silk.

"You're very good at this," Jing said, closing his eyes. "Did you braid your sisters' hair?"

"I have no sisters," Xiulan said. "I killed my cohort in the selection trials."

Jing paused. "That's... a very intense metaphor for academic competition."

Xiulan paused. "Yes. Metaphor."

She finished the braid and tied it with a silk ribbon she had torn from her own sash. She walked around to face him, tilting his chin up.

"Perfect," she whispered. Her eyes roamed over his face, cataloging every freckle. "You look like a prince."

"I look like a gardener with a fancy haircut," Jing laughed. He reached into his basket. "Here. I found a Sun-Heart Fruit. It's sweet."

He held the fruit to her lips.

Xiulan opened her mouth and took a bite, her eyes never leaving his. A drop of juice ran down her chin. Jing instinctively reached out and wiped it away with his thumb.

Xiulan caught his hand. She pressed her cheek into his palm, closing her eyes. She let out a shuddering breath.

"Jing," she said. "Stay here."

"In the cave?" Jing asked. "I can't. I have shifts at the garden."

"No," Xiulan opened her eyes. The violet light in them was swirling. "Stay with me. Forever. I can build a house here. I can bring you soil. You never have to leave. You never have to see them."

"See who?"

"Everyone," Xiulan hissed. "They are dirty. They are loud. They will hurt you."

Jing softened. He placed his other hand on her shoulder. "Xiulan, you worry too much. The sect is safe. And besides, I like people. Well, some people. Mostly you."

At the words *mostly you*, Xiulan’s pupil dilated. The darkness in her heart purred.

"Mostly me," she repeated.

"But we can't hide in a cave," Jing said gently. "The Grand Tournament is next week. The Elders said attendance is mandatory for all disciples this year."

Xiulan stiffened. "No. You are not going."

"I have to," Jing said, scratching his nose. "If I don't, I lose my scholarship. And... I kind of want to try. I've been practicing that breathing technique you gave me."

"It is dangerous," Xiulan said, her voice rising. "They use blades. They use poison. You are soft, Jing. You break easily."

"I'm tougher than I look!" Jing flexed a nonexistent bicep. "And I have you to cheer for me, right?"

Xiulan stared at him. A vision filled her mind—Jing bleeding on the arena floor, Jing crying, Jing broken.

"Yes," she said slowly. "I will be there."

* To kill anyone who looks at you wrong,* she added silently.