She woke to a whiff of iron and salt. She cracked an eye. Her hunger was a low-pitched scream; she felt she could swallow an elephant and still be famished.

“Gluh?”

By the bed, piled high, a plate of bloodied raw steaks. There was a note.

“From Mother, with love.”

Mother knew her so well.

Halfway through the pile, she could think again. Her hands were bloodied. She’d gotten blood all over her robes, the silk blankets, her face was smeared with it and she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Sis?”

“Bluh?”

The door cracked open. Jin was a dark outline against the warm gold light. He stepped in and pressed a tiny button on the wall, switching on the qi light. She hissed at the sudden glare.

He was still pale, drenched in the cloying sticky scent of herbal medicines, but he mustered up the strength to smile at her. “Hey, sis.”

“You’re alive,” she gasped.

“Yes.”

“You’re alive!”

“….Yeah—oof!”

She tackled him in a hug. He choked. “Careful! Still—tender—”

“How dare you,” said Ruyi.

“Excuse me?” he said, looking all dumb and baffled.

“Don’t you go dying on me again!” She poked him in the chest. “From now on you’re not allowed to get poisoned. Ever. Do you hear me?”

“Ah,” said Jin. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Good,” she sniffed. “I did not r—”

She almost said, ‘run myself half to death,’ then remembered she was meant to be frail and weak. Well, more than she already was.

“I did not steal a stallion and ride for half a day just for you to go and get yourself whacked again!”

“You did what?”

“Never mind that,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “How are you feeling?”

“…Good,” said Jin, flabberghasted. “Doctor Hu says with a week of rest and healing elixirs, I’ll be fine. Ah—he also said to offer you his sincerest apologies.”

“The fatty?”

“…He was my attending doctor, yes—”

“As he should,” said Ruyi, turning up her nose.

“I was going to ask if you were feeling alright,” sighed Jin. “But I think that’s fairly clear. It’s lovely seeing you again, Rue. Please wash up and join us for dinner. The cook’s made oyster-onion soup.”

He clapped her on the back, turned to leave—

“Hold on!”

“What?”

“Aren’t you going to say something?” she said, quirking a brow. “Thank you, perhaps?”

“Oh,” he said. “Uh…right. Thank you.”

They stared at each other.

“What?” said Jin warily. He knew her too well.

“Don’t I deserve some kind of reward?”

Jin blinked. “Name it.”

“I saved your life. So you’re mine now. Pledge yourself to my service, forever.”

“…I am not going to do that.”

“I saved your life, didn’t I? That’s how it works in the stories.”

“Oh, Heavens,” he groaned. “How long do you mean to hold this over me?”

“Servant Jin,” she said, “Carry me to dinner. I command it.”

She held out her arms.

They stared at each other for another breath. Then, grumbling, “…Just this once.”

***

Mother wasn’t there. Jin said she’d gone after Ling.

Ruyi paced before the door, waiting. Jin was healed, but this wasn’t done. There was a knot in her heart.

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She wanted Ling to hurt. Hurt worse than Jin did.

When Mother returned it was nearing midnight, and her sleeves were soaked with red. She had a sword at her waist, sheathed. Ruyi had a feeling she knew what color it was beneath.

“What happened?”

“Rue!” said Mother, unslinging her sheath. “You’re awake!”

“Where were you?”

“Visiting a friend.” Mother stepped closer, raising her arms as though to hug her, but Ruyi stepped back.

“Your sleeves…”

“Ah,” said Mother. Then, with a weak smile, “Oops. I really should get changed. Would you check on Jin for me, dear? I—”

“You weren’t visiting a friend.”

“…No,” she sighed.

“You went after Ling. Jin told me.”

Mother sighed, but not in shame. It was same look on her face when she’d seen crows pecking at her carefully tended petunia garden.

“I did,” she said. “And she told me she was a servant of the Lord of Demons! Can you believe? How frightening!”Ruyi didn’t believe Mother was frightened, not for a second.

“I’ve informed the Imperial Guard. Come now.” She yanked up her sleeves, but Ruyi could still see the red. “What do you say we talk this over some tea? I’ve been so meaning to try the Eldertwist—”

“We’re talking now. Is she being held in Fort Irondale?” Ruyi didn’t know why, but she felt a sudden urge to see the girl. To question her. About why she’d done it, but also about the Demon King. So much was missing. “Can I talk to her?”

Mother hesitated. “There’s nothing more to be learned, dear. Ah—how was your trip, by the way? I want to hear all about it! Was that Zhilei—”

“She isn’t in Fort Irondale, is she.”

Mother hugged herself, squirming a little. “Ruyi, I really must wash up. It’s been such a long day—”

“She isn’t alive, is she?” The thought was horrifying and satisfying at once.

“Ruyi Yang!” gasped Mother. “That’s enough.”

“Mother, did she tell you, or did she confess?”

“Rue—”

“What did you do to her?”

“Oh, what does it matter?” said Mother. Annoyance flashed across her face. “Why must you concern yourself with such trifles? She was a serving-girl, Ruyi. A traitor. She poisoned your brother.”

“I’m not asking for her sake,” said Ruyi. She wasn’t sure why she was asking at all. “I don’t care about Ling—I wanted her punished!”

The woman standing before her in blood-soaked clothing was not the sunny woman who took her peach-picking on the weekends. This was someone else, some other person who shared Mother’s body, a second face that peeked out every so often, and it bothered her that she didn’t know who this was. It bothered her that Mother felt she couldn’t be trusted to know.

A thought struck her. “Mother… how often have you killed people like her? People who’ve come to do us harm?”

“Rue…” Mother shook her head. “Let me worry about these things. You worry about being your clever little self, alright?” She reached over to ruffle Ruyi’s hair, but Ruyi stepped away from her.

“In the mountains,” she said. “I met a man who called himself Zhilei Zhen. He also went by another name. Marcus.”

Mother’s face went blank.

“Marcus,” she said.

“The Lord of Demons, he called himself. When he transformed, he was nine feet tall, with spikes all down his back and these big cords of muscle.”

“He demonformed. In your presence.” Mother’s lips trembled.

“He did,” said Ruyi. “He said you’d fought before… he fought Sen, and knocked her unconscious. He said… he said he just wanted to give us pointers. Then he left.”

At first Ruyi thought it was fear that trembled Mother’s lips, that sent her eyes fluttering.

Then she realized it was poorly disguised fury.

Mother tried to hide it but her feelings showed plain on her face. A smile, blandly kept, but where it trembled at the edges the anger leaked out. It was in the hard shining light in her eyes.

“He should know better than that,” said Mother. Every muscle in her jaw was tight.

“I’m old now, nearly sixteen, Mother,” Ruyi forged on, meeting her eyes, suppressing the urge to flinch. “You don’t need to protect me—no, you shouldn’t protect me. I deserve to know.”

“What did he ask of you?” said Mother, grasping Ruyi by the shoulders so hard she gasped.

“What happened to Ling?” she bit back.

“What happens to wood after the fire’s gone through?” snapped Mother. She gestured vaguely at the air. “Honestly, Rue. Stop speaking of it! Now we will sit down and you will tell me exactly what happened in those mountains. Do you understand?”

***

As Ruyi spoke, Mother kept quiet, but unlike Father she could never keep the fire in long. Her face started to grow red, her hands fists resting on her thighs. Ruyi had to stop halfway through—“Mother!”

“Yes?”

Only then did Mother realize how much aura she’d unleashed. The air felt drawn tight, filled with invisible knives; Ruyi didn’t dare so much as swallow lest she cut herself on accident.

“Ah!” said Mother, pulling back, running a harried hand through her locks. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry.” It was like she’d been shocked back to reality; her eyes fluttered. The hardnesses in her face melted; The knives in the air melted too. “We, ah, have a history.”

“Yeah,” said Ruyi, swallowing. “He mentioned that.”

“Thank you, Rue. For telling me of this.” Mother reached out and grasped her hand; it was meant to be kind but she flinched at the coolness of the grip. “I’ll let the Emperor know immediately. You were very brave.”

“Sen was very brave,” said Ruyi thickly. “She was the one that got hurt. It should’ve been… it should’ve been me.”

“It wasn’t.”

Ruyi’s head snapped up. “Heh?”

“It wasn’t you. It was Sen. There was nothing you could have done. If you had acted, you would’ve done nothing but put yourself in harm’s way.” Mother’s smile was bland. “There’s no use blaming yourself, dear. It is done, and you did the right thing. Like you said, you’re old enough to know.”

It was something Father might have said, but it seemed kinder with Mother’s words.

Still Ruyi hunched in. “I… maybe. I don’t know. I still feel like—I don’t know. I should’ve—I—” She cut herself off, frustrated. “I keep thinking—I should’ve been… stronger? Isn’t that dumb?”

“Oh, Rue…” Mother scooted over and wrapped a big warm arm around Ruyi’s shoulders.

“You have to keep a…” She paused, like she was trying to find the words. “…A healthy distance between war and life. The things you do or do not do in war… you cannot let them in. You’ll drive yourself mad. What’s done is done. The past is dead; let dead things rest.”

Somehow Ruyi got the sense Mother was speaking to her, but also not. Her eyes had this faraway look to them.

“Is that what you did to Ling?”

For a while Mother was silent, hesitant, like she was worried about what she was about to say. Or worried whether Ruyi was ready to hear it.

“Tell me,” urged Ruyi.

“I find,” she said slowly. “In battle you should think of the enemy less as a person, and more as a puzzle. There has to be a distance there. It’s very hard for me to hurt people. But it’s very easy for me to solve puzzles. It’s best not to think of it after it’s done, for your own sake. I try not to. Once you give a puzzle a name, and a face, and a smile…” She smiled without humor. “It can stay with you a very long time.”

“How do you do that?”

“Hm?”

“Separate war and life, I mean…” Ruyi wished she could put on a second face like Mother. She wished she could switch off the guilt, the self-hatred, just like that.

“Well,” said Mother. Her laugh was unconvincing. “Your Father’s better at it than I. If you can believe it, he’s even more of a General with his troops! I…” Mother glanced away, sighing. “I try. But I still have some growing to do.”

***

That evening Ruyi wrote Sen a letter. She apologized for leaving so fast. She said it was an emergency. She closed it with an invitation to tea that she wrote, crossed out, and rephrased it three different times. She sent it with a happy sigh.

It was then that she realized she hadn’t thought about—and cried over—Tingting in over a day.

It still made her throat tight to think of her.

But she felt she was getting better. She really did.