Lan looked back up. The boy’s face was utterly unmarred, not even a splash of tea on those smooth cheekbones. Impossible, she thought, taking in the wreckage all around their feet. She hadn’t even seen him move. The courtdog’s expression was not amused. His mouth was pressed into a thin line as he held her arm. “You’ll have to try a lot harder than that if you want to run.” “Got it,” Lan said, and with her other hand, smashed her teacup into his face.
