Night Shine

by Tessa Gratton

  A shadow flattened his eyes, but Kirin shook it off. “I will be the true Heir to the Moon—you’ll both be there to witness it. Once the Moon has accepted me, we can be together, Sky.”

  Sky pressed his mouth together. “We need a good story to cover up why she took you. Not even your mother and father can know you traveled as a girl. And that I did not tell them.”

  “Even if they discover it, I will keep you safe,” Kirin said, flippant.

  Nothing scowled. “You did it for the Moon, Sky. You kept his secrets because you are devoted, because you serve the Heir to the Moon. They can’t fault you for keeping him safe.”

  Kirin studied his bodyguard thoughtfully. “That isn’t what he’s worried about.”

  Sky pinned Kirin with a glare. “They could guess what else we’ve done. It was difficult enough to keep my feelings tucked away before. And difficult enough when I had you for only moments or secret, stolen afternoons. Now that I’ve had you for so many days, mine constantly, free to be yours, how can I tuck my longing away again? They’ll see it in my eyes, hear it in my voice. I am not built for lies. I should not return with you. They will see what I am to you, what I want from you. What I’ve taken from you, Kirin. It will muddy the inheritance. It—”

  The bodyguard cut himself off abruptly, as if so many words tumbling from his mouth were his entire allotment for the next year.

  Kirin said gently, but firmly, “You have to endure for only a few weeks, until the stars are right again and the ritual can be arranged and completed, Sky. You can do that. You can hide from my mother and father, from the priests. You must.”

  “The great demon will see I’ve ruined your purity.”

  Kirin stood. He towered over his sitting lover. “Sky,” the prince said, voice low, “The Day the Sky Opened.” He put his foot on Sky’s thigh and nudged roughly. Sky held his ground. Kirin moved behind him, leaning down with his hands on Sky’s shoulders. He put his cheek to Sky’s cheek. “When you touch me, you make me more myself. I am pure because of you, not in spite of you.”

  Sky’s chin fell as if in defeat. His shoulders slumped.

  “Do you hear me?” Kirin pushed, hands sliding down over Sky’s shoulders onto his chest, and Kirin pressed his whole body against Sky.

  “I do,” Sky murmured.

  “I need you. You make me worthy of the Moon,” Kirin said, and Sky twisted to grab Kirin and was kissing him like he was drowning.

  For a moment Nothing stared. She felt… hungry. Her mind and heart were missing a piece she’d never known she needed.

  The sorceress had kissed her, but not like that. Nothing pressed her hand over her brand, digging her fingers in hard enough to bruise. The sorceress’s kiss had been… Nothing closed her eyes, trying to remember. It was like a story she’d heard about a kiss. Details, tender caresses, but from a distance.

  The missing half of her heart had never felt so heavy.

  Nothing left. She went to the prow of the barge, ignoring their noises. She bent over to touch the water. It was cool and crystal clear. She saw tiny fish darting away and round river rocks wavering at the bottom. “Selegan,” she whispered. Behind her Sky grunted and one of them moaned breathlessly.

  “Selegan,” Nothing said more sharply. “I need to swim with you, please.”

  The river spirit splashed her, and Nothing gasped; then the droplets of water drew out into long feathery fingers. They slid down her neck and arm and twined around her hand, tugging at her. She quickly removed her boots and wrap jacket, then slipped over the rail and lowered herself into the cold water. She clung to the barge, and then a strong scaly neck lifted her bare feet, propping her up in the water. She laughed, throwing out one arm for balance.

  With one hand on the barge, she stood, grinning into the spraying wind, as the Selegan drew her along. It was like flying. Water tore at her shirt and trousers, dragging hard. She leaned her head back, eyes closed, and held on.

  Then suddenly, Nothing let go.

  She fell away, sucked into the river. Currents pulled at her, and she felt scales slip under her palms, claws tangle gently in her hair, then release. She held her breath, feeling only water, like swift-moving blood, roaring around her. She did not swim or fight, but let the river take her.

  It lifted her, tossing her into the air.

  Nothing laughed breathlessly. She fell beneath the surface with a hard splash. The Selegan embraced her in tails of water, kissing her cheeks with feather fingers and sharp pinches.

  She learned the song of splashing and holding her breath, of giant gasps for air, the current in her fingers and combing through her hair. She tasted the river, loved the flow of it against her body.

  Eventually, later, she was too tired to balance air and water, and the Selegan lifted her high enough she grasped the rail and dragged herself over it, collapsing on the deck.

  She rolled onto her back, panting and drained but happy. Sun prickled her cheeks as it dried her. Her trousers and shirt stuck to her skin as she melted.

  “Good swim?” Sky asked.

  Nothing opened her eyes to the glare of sunlight. She winced up at him: he leaned on the rail near her in only his trousers. His hair was wet too, flaring blue-black in the wind at the prow. The sun found blue and purple in all the glinting copper of his skin, but his eyes were warm brown and human.

  “Yes,” she answered, stretching her arms up, arching her back. She felt good.

  “I’m cooking!” called Kirin, and Nothing rolled her head to see the prince kneeling primly beside the iron stove, wrapped in a pretty robe, his hair caught up in a messy topknot. He held a spoon like a wand and smiled very sweetly at her. Then his gaze shifted to Sky and he licked his lips, glancing demurely down.

  It was such an affectation, Nothing laughed.

  Kirin’s expression darkened, and she laughed harder.

  “Never mind her,” Sky said reassuringly. “I appreciate it.”

  The prince narrowed his eyes at Nothing, then painted sweetness back onto his face and fluttered his lashes at Sky. “You can eat, then.”

  Nothing kept her smile on as she stood and stripped off her clothes. Kirin’s eyes widened and she just shrugged. She hung the shirt and trousers on the pavilion to dry.

  “Demon,” Kirin accused as she passed him, walking to the rear of the barge to spread herself out in the sun.

  A while later Kirin dropped a robe on her. “Food,” he said.

  Having been lightly asleep, Nothing rubbed her eyes. Her skin felt hot and maybe slightly burned. She grimaced, practicing wild, scary faces that bared her teeth and widened her eyes into saucers. Then she wrapped herself in the robe and joined Kirin and Sky at the stove.

  They lounged on pillows, eating lentils Kirin had cooked with dried meat and peas. The sun dragged down, pulling clouds with it in long orange streaks. At one point Kirin stood and went to the rail to offer lentils to the Selegan. The sight warmed Nothing’s heart. Though it had been a long day, it had been a good one, and she wanted to remain on the river forever.

  When Kirin rejoined them, his shoulder leaning against Sky’s, Nothing said, “Kirin you should make Sky your First Consort.”

  Sky stilled, and Kirin frowned, carefully not looking at his bodyguard.

  Nothing said, “He deserves to be First. What does it matter your heirs would come from a Second Consort? If you can’t do it, you should let him go.”

  “Nothing,” Sky said in a warning rumble.

  “Make Sky your First,” she challenged. “It is a better offer than Second. He deserves it.”

  “And would you be my Second?” Kirin sneered.

  “Kirin, don’t.” Sky made it a command.

  Both Kirin and Nothing stared at him, shocked.

  Sky gritted his teeth and leveled Nothing with a brief, meaningful look. Then he faced Kirin. “If you ask, she’ll say yes. She always does what you ask.”

  “We are going to free her,” Kirin said, and it was tinged with just enough r
egret to infuriate Nothing.

  She tucked her knees to her chest and planted her chin there.

  “Does that matter?” Sky sounded almost tender now. “You never owned my name, and still I do as you wish.”

  “Because you want to,” Kirin argued. “Because I’m right.”

  “And you’re the Heir to the Moon.”

  Kirin shrugged one shoulder, haughty and cool.

  Nothing snorted. “How do we even love you?”

  A triumphant smile spread slowly across his wicked mouth. “A heart has many petals.”

  Sky glowered, but it was shadowed with amusement.

  They were helpless for the prince, Nothing knew, and she lay back, hands folded against her chest. She went to sleep listening to her prince and her friend quietly bicker and tease, until Kirin finally whispered, “Would you say yes?” and Sky whispered back, “If you ask.”

  THIRTY-TWO

  NOTHING WAITED THREE MORE days before taking another taste of the pear. Partly because she didn’t think to earlier. When she remembered it, she was stunned at her own forgetfulness.

  It was just before dawn, before either of the boys woke, before villagers put their small fishing boats out onto the river, and she nibbled at the edge of her previous bite: surprisingly none of the pear had browned or bruised, despite her keeping it in her pocket.

  She opened her eyes in the sorceress’s bedroom. One entire wall was comprised of mirrors in many shapes and sizes. The sorceress knelt before a rectangular mirror that leaned against the wall. A rainbow of paint pots was arrayed around her. She leaned in and drew a curving feather of bright blue down her cheek with a thin brush.

  Nothing did not speak, but met the sorceress’s eyes in the mirror.

  “Hello,” the sorceress said. She flicked her brush against her chin, completing the delicate feather, and set the brush down on a scrap of cloth.

  Still Nothing remained quiet. She’d thought, lying awake in the first light over the barge, as the stars diminished, that maybe the sorceress watched the morning arrive too. It had made her feel cold and lonely. So she’d come.

  “Nothing,” the sorceress said in a light singsong. Coaxing Nothing to speak.

  “Do you think I can do magic away from the mountain?” Nothing asked in a rush.

  “Yes.”

  Nothing sat down abruptly. “Just as easy as that?”

  “You can speak with spirits and demons, you can hear the aether and see it, can’t you? So you can do magic.” She picked a new brush and dipped it into a pot of vivid gold. With it, she dotted tiny sparkles along the feather on her cheek, as though it shed glittery sunshine.

  “How?”

  “Ask a witch. Ask the great demon of the palace. Ask someone who is with you.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “Come home and I’ll teach you more.”

  Nothing scooted closer. “Paint my face?”

  The sorceress turned and patted a pillow beside her. Nothing situated herself upon it, facing the sorceress. “Be still,” the sorceress said.

  Nothing closed her eyes. The first touch of the brush surprised her, and she jerked from the cold paint.

  “Nothing,” the sorceress chided.

  “Sorry,” she answered with a grimace before relaxing her expression.

  It became soothing: the stroke of paint, the tickle as it dried, the absence and soft tap-tap of a brush to the rim of a pot. Nothing tried at first to track the shape of the strokes as they covered her left cheek and curled around her mouth, as they fluttered over her left eyelid and just barely lined her right eye. She breathed slowly and evenly, finding great calm in merely sitting and holding still. It was easy, she realized: just existing in the sorceress’s presence. She liked it.

  “Do you remember the first dinner we shared?” the sorceress asked. “You arrived with your face painted like a furious green demon, with red eyes and a scowl.”

  “I was angry. I wanted to be scary.” Nothing opened her eyes. “I didn’t know how it would make you feel.”

  The sorceress wore a soft smile. “How did it make me feel?” she asked tenderly.

  “Like you were right about me.”

  “You surprised me, and I am not used to being surprised.” The sorceress leaned in. “I liked it. I like you, Nothing. I like what you are now.”

  “I like you, too, except…” Nothing stopped. She licked her lips and tasted paint. As she started to turn to look in the mirror, the sorceress flattened her hand against the frame and it blackened. Nothing scowled for real now. “What?”

  “What don’t you like?” the sorceress asked.

  Nothing had to think about what she’d been saying. Then she answered, “You take hearts.”

  “Bargain. It is always a bargain.”

  “That doesn’t make it less cruel, less…” Nothing fluttered her hands. “Less inhuman.”

  “Some girls are very willing to give up their hearts, and their lives.”

  “You take advantage.”

  The sorceress shrugged. “Sometimes, maybe.”

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “Why should it?”

  Nothing opened her mouth, but she didn’t know what to say.

  The sorceress reached out and put a finger against Nothing’s chest. “Why does it bother you?”

  Nothing shook her head. She knew the answer but didn’t want to say it.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s supposed to.”

  The sorceress’s brows lifted in perfect black arcs.

  Nothing crossed her arms stubbornly. “It’s wrong to hurt other people.”

  “You helped me kill Skybreaker.”

  “He attacked you. I was protecting you, and the mountain, and—and Kirin.”

  “So sometimes hurting another is acceptable.”

  “Not for selfishness.”

  “Was it not selfish to save me? You protect Kirin because you care about him. I take hearts to keep myself alive—to save me. And to find my demon, the other half of my heart. Is that a less noble cause?”

  “They didn’t do anything to deserve it. He did.”

  “Oh, they were innocent, you mean. Nobody is innocent, tender heart.”

  Nothing frowned. “If they were, would you care?”

  “Not if it meant finding you again. I would destroy a thousand hearts to find you, again and again.”

  At that, it was difficult for Nothing to breathe.

  She was excited by the sorceress’s passion—and maybe a little bit afraid. But she wanted more.

  The sorceress’s bare cheek flushed, and the wing upon her other cheek flashed with speckles of gold. Her eyes bored into Nothing. She said, “I fell in love with a great demon. Why do you expect me to care for the innocent, the noble, the good? There is no such thing: the world is made of shadows and luck, not good or evil, night and day. Humans pretend. They seek contrast and rules. But the forest knows. The mountains know. The sky knows. Those hearts transformed; they became what they were meant to be. They brought a mountain to life.”

  Nothing leaned away, her breath heaving. “No,” she whispered. “Good exists. Evil exists. Maybe—maybe they aren’t opposite, not like day and night, but they’re real. Good and evil are both shadows.”

  The sorceress smiled hungrily. “I like that. We’re both shadows, too.”

  “The Fifth Mountain should not consume human hearts. I don’t want that. It’s wrong.”

  “But you do want it. You keep coming back to me.”

  Nothing thrust herself away, shaking her head, dizzy. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I am—”

  And suddenly she opened her eyes to sunlight and Sky’s worried face. “Nothing,” he said, his hand on her jaw, pressing to wake her. “Nothing.”

  “I’m—” she tried to say around his strong hand.

  He let go. “Your eyes were open, but you weren’t… aware. And for a…”

  Nothing shut her eyes, listeni
ng to the echo of the sorceress’s voice. You keep coming back to me.

  “You had scales,” Sky said. “Silver-green scales on the left side of your face.”

  Her eyes flew open. She stood up, ran to the rail and lifted the pear. Her pulse throbbed in her skull and she was dizzy.

  But she did not throw it away. Her arm slowly fell, and her heaving shoulders drooped. She could not do it. Instead, Nothing tucked the pear back into her pocket.

  THIRTY-THREE

  NOTHING TOLD KIRIN AND Sky about the pear.

  The prince was surprisingly quiet on the subject. He merely said, “A better gift than you’d imagined, then,” and started cooking breakfast. Sky, though, studied Nothing with concern.

  “What are you doing?” he asked quietly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “With the sorceress. Is she not your enemy?”

  Nothing hugged herself. She didn’t know. She felt weird, unbalanced when she thought of the sorceress. Like she just couldn’t quite grasp something—but she knew what the shape of it was.

  “She is the Sorceress Who Eats Girls. She kidnapped the Heir to the Moon.” Sky’s voice remained calm, but Nothing heard an urgency hidden within it.

  “I know what she is.”

  Sky was silent. He stared at her, unblinking, hard.

  Nothing tightened her hold on herself. “I do,” she said weakly.

  “Be careful.”

  “I’m careful.”

  “Nothing.” Sky put his hands on his hips, eyes narrowing as he continued to peer at her. “I do not want you to be hurt. You are a—friend. But Kirin was hurt by her. The empire was. You can’t be on her side.”