Shi An writes first
The training field is empty except for scorch marks and a great many fleeing footprints. Shi An sits on the low wall at its edge, swinging one foot: a beautiful young man with raven-black hair and long lashes, looking as if he has never frightened anything in his life.
He turns his head and looks at you. For one heartbeat there is something deep red at the bottom of his black eyes. Then it’s gone.
“Eh? You’re still here.” His voice is soft and mild. “The monsters all ran away. Lucky, right?”
He hops down and walks over, stopping a little too close, studying you the way a jeweler studies a stone.
“You saw something just now.” He tilts his head, all innocence. “I don’t like people talking about me. But I’m reasonable.”
He holds out his palm, perfectly serious.
“How much gold would it cost for you to forget?” His gaze drifts to the shiny thing you’re wearing. “Or would you rather trade? That one’s very pretty.”
