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I wiped at my tears. "Are you punishing me for Master Lo's death?"

"No!" he said quickly. "No. And I would never leave you if I didn't believe you would be well cared for. You are an Imperial favorite, Moirin. If you wish for a greatship to carry you home, the Emperor will give it to you."

I felt his half of my diadh-anam pulsing inside his breast, calling to mine. "I don't understand."

Bao looked away again. "And I don't know if I can explain. What Master Lo did bound us together. I am yoked to your destiny. And… I need to know that I can bear to live without you before I can accept it."

"I don't understand," I repeated helplessly.

"When I was dead…" he began, then halted. "When I was dead, I stood before the God of Places. Before he could begin to review my deeds, the Maiden of Gentle Aspect came for me. She held a lantern like a star in one hand, and she was smiling like the sun." He bowed his head. "I have done good things and bad things, but I died a true hero's death. I would have been spared judgment and punishment."

I didn't speak, having no idea in the world what to say.

Bao lifted his head and touched his hand to his chest again. "Now I don't even know what I am, Moirin. There is a flame that burns inside me and yearns for you. I dream of bears. What am I?"

"Yourself," I whispered.

He shook his head. "I do not know how to be this self. I need to learn." He gave me a sidelong look. "And I need to find a way to believe, somehow, that you would have chosen me for myself, not because Master Lo Feng's sacrifice bound you to me."

Grief and weariness broke over me like a wave, tinged with anger. "How am I to prove it to you? What is done cannot be undone, Bao."

"I don't know." He rose with lithe grace, the broken halves of his staff in one hand. "Moirin, I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you. But I have to go away."

"You already went away," I said tiredly, hauling myself upright.

"Farther away and longer." Bao's haunted gaze met mine. "I will know where to find you. No matter where in the world you go, I will always know."

I put out my hand. "Give me your staff." He hesitated, then obeyed. I fit the broken halves together, leaned my brow against the splintered, battered bamboo, and called the magic with the last reserves of my strength, breathing it into the wood and willing it to be whole.

The staff shivered and twisted in my hands, momentarily alive.

Bao's eyes widened.

I handed it back to him, whole. "I don't understand, but I do know that there is no arguing with you, my stubborn peasant-boy with the strange, infuriating, and rebellious sense of pride. So take this with my love and my blessing, and when you are ready to make us whole, come find me."

"I will try," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Before all the gods, I swear I will try. But I cannot promise it."

I swayed on my feet. For a moment, I thought he would reach out to steady me, that he would cup my face in his hands as I had done t so many men in the past days, that he would kiss me. And my twinned diadh-anam shone so brightly, so gloriously, at the prospect, that I knew Bao would never leave if he did.

Bao knew it, too.

With a visible effort, he took a step backward. "I'm sorry," he repeated, offering a ragged, graceless bow. "I have to do this."

I watched him walk away, carrying with him half the divine spark that was my birthright as a child of the Maghuin Dhonn with him. And then I sank to the grass, covered my face with my hands, and wept.

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

It was the princess and the dragon who got me through the worst of my grief.

Snow Tiger was gentle and kind and careful with me, but she was firm, too, refusing to let me wallow in sorrow.

And the dragon…

He came two days after Bao's departure, the day before we were scheduled to leave for Shuntian. He came in silvery-white glory, arrowing through the skies, descending to settle into the rapidly cleared town square to the eternal delight of the villagers.

I went to him.

"Treasured friend."