The Oathbreaker's Shadow by Amy McCulloch

acidity in her voice, the disappointment in her eyes. ‘I thought you were the Prince . . . never mind.’
    ‘Not this time, Erdene.’ But he was too happy to see her to be upset. ‘Well done with your duel, by the way.’
    To his relief, she smiled. ‘You too. I hate all this garb,’ she said, irritated as her veil blew back into her thick eyelashes.
    While she was distracted, he tried to stow the Absolute Vow knot away in his tunic until he had time to make itinto something wearable. She noticed, and darted forward, grabbing his right hand and opening his palm so the whole newly formed knot, with the shock of royal colour twisting through it, was visible in all its glory. Raim blushed a deep crimson, a mixture of pride and apprehension as the magnitude of his promise became more and more apparent.
    Erdene gasped. ‘Khareh chose you already? I knew you two were close, I knew you were the most likely candidate but . . .’
    ‘But I’m not even officially Yun yet? But he’s not even the Khan?’ he finished. ‘I know. Keep it quiet until tomorrow, please?’ He attempted once again to cover it, but she held his arm firm. He shivered as her fingers traced the knot in his palm.
    ‘It’s beautiful,’ she whispered. ‘And it suits you.’
    Raim suddenly felt dizzy. The places where she was touching him burned like fire, his mouth went dry and his eyes refused to blink.
    For a moment, Erdene’s eyes opened wide, and her pupils grew to islands in a milky white sea.
    ‘You will be Chief Yun.’
    He nodded. She caught him in the upward motion, pressing her lips against his. Her mouth was full, wet and salty, tasting of olives and cinnamon.
    He felt like he was suspended, like the only things stopping him from tumbling over the edge of a precipice were her lips. When she reached her hands around hisneck, he put his own on her waist, struggling to get a grip on the silky material.
    Her fingers fumbled with the ties that held together his tunic. She kissed the corner of his mouth, continued down the side of his neck. He was out of himself, out of his body, ecstatic.
    There was a hesitation, then a sharp intake of breath that expelled itself as a scream. Raim came crashing down to earth. He looked down.
    The sleeve of his left arm was on fire and the flames had caught hold of the hem of Erdene’s tunic. She jumped back and slapped at the flames and they went out quickly.
    Raim fell with his arm against the wall, trying to quench the fire. But it wouldn’t go out. It wouldn’t go out and soon his whole arm was consumed with flames. And yet he could feel no pain. The flames travelled up his arm to his shoulder before fizzling out in a curved wisp of grey smoke.
    But the fire had left its mark. There, seared into his left wrist, was the mark of a broken promise, blood-red and hideous. Staring at Erdene’s appalled face, her mouth twisted in disgust, he could see the horror of the taboo as clearly as if it were inked on her forehead.
    But there was no shadow. They boI’m so sorrybl knowingdth stood in paralysed silence, waiting for the shadow to appear. But it did not come. He was not fully Chauk yet. Maybe there was still time. His sleeve was ash on the ground so he grabbed Dharma’s scarf from his neck and threw it over his wrist.
    Erdene didn’t know, couldn’t know, that he was ignorant of the promise’s origin. She only saw the evidence of the greatest Darhanian taboo. She stared at his wrist as if the mark was still right in front of her eyes instead of hidden beneath the scarf.
    He stepped forward, but she recoiled.
    ‘Erdene . . .’
    ‘What . . . what was that?’ She was backing away.
    He grabbed her wrist. ‘Please, tell no one! There’s no shadow, that means . . .’
    She wasn’t listening to him. ‘It was red . . . a scar . . . I saw it.’ She looked up at him, ‘What does that mean? I must . . . I have to go.’ She tried to wrench away from his grip.
    Raim was desperate now. He could tell Erdene