Jasmine peeked through an open window, spying on the pink elixir she was determined to . . . borrow. It was sitting on a counter, on the other side of the shop. Smoked nay—with its red leaves, white flowers, and spicy aroma—lined the counter just above the elixir. Even from where she crouched, Jasmine couldn’t help but blink tears from her eyes. This particular herb was the meanest plant around, but its spiritual benefits were unmatched. Eating it raw was one way to scorch your insides, which is why distilling it into a crystal flask made it an invaluable resource.

Wuin Ro, the herbalist manning the shop, hummed as she swept the floor, cleaning up for the night. Her navy blue robe was embroidered with flaming butterflies, her long dark hair swaying as she swept left, then swept right, dancing to her tune.

It was unusual for a woman in the Frozenflame sect to own an herb shop, but she obviously wasn’t a native. The pink flowers and green vines interweaving through her hair were proof enough of that. She was on the Path of the Blooming Lotus—a wife to a Frozenflame man who must have started the shop because of her.

The women of Tianhai couldn’t so much as breathe without a man’s approval, so this one was lucky. Her husband must have bent over backwards to get this place up and running.

She crouched and eyed a wilting plant, brushing hair away from her face. “Tsk.” She held a hand over the pitiful thing, waving a circle in the air. The veins in her arm grew bright green as verdant life-maqi—like beads of sweat—squeezed from her palm. They dropped, hovering toward the stalk of the plant. It absorbed the droplets, rising tall and proud, trailing bright green mist.

Jasmine was leaning through the window, eyes wide as saucers. She blinked rapidly, looking down at herself. What am I doing! She quickly pulled back, ducking so the woman couldn’t see her. Her heart rapped against her chest as she peeked over the sill, watching the newly refreshed plant, her stomach sickening with jealousy. Wuin Ro looked to be in her twenties, had probably received her Path as a young girl, and was no doubt at the Silver rank.

At sixteen, Jasmine had none of that.

Which is why I need that elixir.

Flickering candlelight reflected off the crystal flask, making it glisten like a precious diamond. If she had the money to buy it, she would. But as a Kaithist nun, Jasmine had no way of earning an income. And even if she could make money, Wuin Ro wouldn’t allow her to purchase the elixir.

Nuns weren’t allowed to cultivate.

They couldn’t.

At least, that’s what everyone believed.

Jasmine hoped to prove them wrong.

A knock came at the door near the counter. Wuin Ro shot up, brushing loose strands from her face. “Just a minute!” She shuffled over to the door, swinging it open. Mon-Erika stood outside in her forest green monastic robe. Her sanghati was draped over one shoulder, and as she bowed at the waist, it dragged against the floor.

“Wuin Ro,” Mon-Erika said, her bald head glistening in the candlelight. “Forgive me for bothering you, but may we speak?”

Wuin Ro hesitated, then cast a glance over her shoulder. Jasmine remained hidden, peeking with one eye over the sill.

“Can you make it quick?” Wuin Ro said. “We need to close up shop and go home so . . .” As she exited, she shut the door behind her.

Jasmine smiled.

She lifted herself up and sat on the windowsill, swinging her legs over the edge and into the shop. She dropped to the floor, landing in a crouch. Without wasting a breath, she crept forward, toward the prized elixir. Her own robes were so tight, they restricted the movement of her legs. Her sanghati, wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl, dragged against the floorboards. She adjusted the headwrap keeping her raven-black hair in place.

She stepped on a pile of cool dirt, and some of it stuck to her sole. She left footprints on her way to the counter, her emerald eyes fixed on the crystal prize. The smoked nay, dangling from the shelf just above the elixir, seemed to radiate heat. Tears streamed down Jasmine’s cheeks, and she rubbed her stinging eyes.

Her heart slammed against the inside of her ribcage, threatening to burst from her chest. She could hear Wuin Ro’s muffled conversation with Mon-Erika through the front entrance.

Jasmine’s fingers curled around the faceted flask, the liquid from within radiating warmth. She couldn’t help but bask in the moment.

Finally.

After months of failing, here she was, clutching the cure to her spiritual deficiency. She could almost taste the spicy tonic as it settled in her mouth, burning up her tongue like the juices of a—

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

A door to the right of the counter swung open.

Jasmine’s heart leapt into her throat.

“Wuin,” a man said, looking down at the papers of a ledger. Long whiskers hung from his upper lip, and he wore the navy blue robes of the Frozenflame sect. “I was going through our receipts and I can’t seem to find—” As he looked up and spotted Jasmine, he gasped and stumbled back.

Jasmine stared into the man’s large eyes.

She heard nothing but the pounding of her heart.

He looked at the elixir she was grasping, and his eyes bulged.

“This is not what it looks like,” Jasmine whispered, clenching the flask. “Wuin is just outside, talking with one of my sisters. She left me behind to—“

“I recognize you,” the man said, narrowing his eyes. “Yes . . .” He nodded. “Mon-Jasmine, is it?” Merchants were a tight-knit group. Those she’d failed to rob would have warned their fellows. Infamy spread like wildfire, especially in a territory as small as Tianhai. “Drop the elixir,” he ordered. “If you leave now, we’ll pretend I never saw— Hey!”

Jasmine sprinted for the window, holding the elixir close to her chest. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw the man shaking his head while forming navy blue fire from an upturned hand. Frost spread across his palm, wrapping around his fingers. He wound up, preparing a throw.

Jasmine dove through the window. A force exploded against her left calf. She yelped as she hit the earth, rolling across a patch of snow.

She blinked back a moment of dizziness, then sat up. Blue flames spread across her leg, crawling along her robe, freezing anything it touched.

She screamed, slapping at the wicked flames. Ice crystals spread across her palm, biting her skin. She cursed, shaking her hand as she rose to her feet. The lower half of her robe was freezing over, restricting her movement.

“You’ve lost, Mon-Jasmine,” the man said. He leaned against the windowsill, holding another frozenflame. It danced wildly, its very presence freezing the window frame. “But you are a nun, and I wish you no harm. Drop the elixir, and I’ll call off the fire.”

Wuin Ro rounded the herb shop, raising her brows. When she spotted Jasmine, her breath caught and she took a half step back. “What is this?”

Mon-Erika stood beside her, bald head reflecting moonlight. She stared Jasmine in the eye, shaking her head, face expressionless. She was trying to hide how she felt, but the squinting of her eyes and the scrunching of her brows showed the pain of betrayal.

She’d been set up, her honest conversation with Wuin Ro providing the perfect distraction for Jasmine’s master plan.

“Drop the elixir,” the man repeated, holding up his flaming hand. It was covered in ice.

Jasmine’s hold on the flask tightened. I should drink it now! That would only earn her a fireball to the face. Instead, she focused on the maqi trickling through her wispy meridians. There was almost nothing.

But it was something.

The navy flames were climbing up her torso, leaving her to chatter as frost bit her skin. Reaching out, she opened her hand and dropped the elixir. The man lifted an eyebrow, looking from Jasmine’s face to the flask on the ground with a questioning expression.

She raised her hands in front of her, palms facing each other. Maqi pulsed through her incorporeal veins as she took a deep breath and cycled the energy to her hands. Frowning, gritting her chattering teeth, she forced the essence through her palms. An amorphous, hazy sphere formed in front of her. A bead of sweat slid into her right eye.

The man smirked.

“Oh?” Jasmine said, blinking stars from her vision. “You think this is a joke?” She was powerless, but her mist might just provide the distraction she needed.

He snapped his fingers. The ice gripping her robes shattered, dissolving to dark blue mist. “I almost feel sorry for you, Mon-Jas—”

Jasmine threw the mist ball. It hit the man’s face as she dropped to the ground, lying with her back to the man. She grabbed the flask, pulling the cork to unstop it.

The man cursed Jasmine’s name as a fireball hit her back, the icy chill making her shiver. Her trembling fingers made it difficult to pop off the cork, but when she did, her heart soared.

Wuin Ro dropped next to Jasmine, landing on her knees. She was a small woman, but Silvers were admonished to cultivate their bodies before breaking through to Gold Core, so when she clutched Jasmine’s wrist, there was no fighting back.

Jasmine struggled anyway, kneeing the woman in the gut. She might as well have kicked a brick wall. Her kneecap cracked, sending a lightning strike of pain up her leg.

She screamed, thrashing to break free of Wuin’s grasp.

Mon-Erika stood behind the woman, her hands folded before her, face solemn. Wuin Ro turned her head and said something to the nun, who then grabbed one of the pink flowers in Wuin’s hair.

When she knelt, she crushed the flower, then sprinkled the dust over Jasmine’s face. Jasmine tried turning her head, but the anguish throbbing in her leg made it difficult to think, or to care. The dust drifted into her eyes. She blinked rapidly as tears trailed down the sides of her face. When she took a deep breath, floral-scented dust soared through her nose.

Her mind buzzed.

A couple of blinks later, she remembered no more.