FORTY-ONE
It was as though time stood still, ready to repeat itself. Yi stood in this courtyard, fighting the woman in white, yet at the same time, he stood in the dust outside Dean, expecting to beat Mao, only to find himself defeated. He lunged, leaving himself open to whatever rapid defence Mao had used on him that first time. Now he would know for sure whether this woman was Mao or someone else entirely.
Her eyes met his, as if she could read his thoughts. She twisted, just as Mao had done, but instead of throwing him to the ground, the girl slipped and landed flat on her back. Defeated, as Yi brought the tip of his sword to her throat.
Her gaze was as tranquil as one of the mountain lakes he'd passed to reach her home. "Victory is yours, my prince," she murmured.
His heart sank
