The last touch of burned bouquet fades into a fragrant cloud of spicy lemon and verbena. White sunlight drenches my skin. Cream splashes on pink and purple—the magnolia trees lining the temple garden are in full bloom.
“Good prayer?” Lanying swings her legs over the lacquered bench.
“Good prayer,” I say, and it was. I guided my intentions the best I could, expecting nothing in return.
“Let’s go.” She waves, and a guard shoots out of the shade. “Something tells me our brothers are waiting, eager for your return.” Her rush of silk pushes me on.
A muggy whiff lingers in the market. The heat drowns the empty teacups stacked in a shallow basin. People loiter along the stalls with their shadows on the verge of lengthening. Heads doze off under caps. Birds squish in bamboo cages, and a
