Linh’s lips quirked. “Is it working?”

“Gladly. But first, another kiss.”

“Then write a vow for me.” From the shadows materialized Ma Thiên Linh . He was terrifyingly beautiful: long black hair like spilled ink, skin pale as jade, eyes crimson as blood-soaked peonies. A crown of bone and thorns rested on his head.

“Then you write a better one, ghost king.”

The candles flickered.