by Evelyn Skye
Sora nodded. Then she piled stacks of ryuu uniforms over him and shut the lid. There were slits in the rattan weave of the trunk to allow Daemon to breathe.
Soon afterward, she found a cart filled with drums of fruit and crates of vegetables. Sora curled up in a barrel that was partially full of oranges. At least it smells good in here, she thought.
She had hardly settled herself in when voices approached.
“You’re in charge of transporting the food to the ship,” a ryuu said. Her voice still had the reedy quality of youth, but there was also a corrosive bossiness to it that made it clear she was in charge despite her age. It sounded like the same ryuu from before, the one in the cloak with Prince Gin. “Can you handle the responsibility?” she asked.
“Yes, Virtuoso,” a recruit said.
Virtuoso. Sora made note of the name. She wouldn’t make the same mistake as the report on Takish Gorge, when she didn’t have enough specific information to share with the commander.
“Recite the steps I taught you,” Virtuoso ordered the recruit.
“Look for the green particles of magic, coax them to form small hands, and command those hands to lift and carry the crates and drums to the ship.”
“I’ll watch you cast the first spell,” Virtuoso said. “Transport this one.” She thumped hard on the top of Sora’s barrel.
Sora nearly jumped out of her skin. She tensed every muscle in her body to prevent herself from knocking the oranges inside the barrel around. It would be a dead giveaway that something or someone was inside. Citrus wasn’t supposed to move on its own.
It was quiet for a minute. Was the recruit concentrating on seeing the magic? Daemon had explained to Sora about Sight.
The barrel lurched upward a foot into the air. Sora braced her hands against the inside of the drum. It continued its bumpy ascent, jerking slightly left, accelerating right, pausing, zooming up and left again . . .
And then a sudden drop. Sora barely stifled a gasp as her insides plummeted along with the barrel.
A split second later, the drum came to an abrupt halt. Sora’s heart pounded so loudly, it wouldn’t be a surprise if the ryuu outside could hear.
“At this rate,” Virtuoso said scathingly, “it’ll take us days to leave Kaede City. Either that or we’ll set sail without the food, and everyone will starve at sea.”
“I’m sorry,” the recruit said.
Virtuoso huffed impatiently. “You’re overthinking it. Taigas rely too heavily on their chants to will the magic into a spell. You’re a ryuu now. Simply see the magic and use your thoughts to imagine what you want it to do.”
“Let me try again,” he said. There was steel in his voice that Sora recognized as the resolve taught to all taigas from a young age. She could practically hear the teachers making them chant the mantra every morning before class: Failures are not end points. They are merely challenges to be mastered.
Her barrel of oranges began to rise. It was a rocky ascent again, but swifter, as if the magical hands were balancing the drum on their palms this time, rather than juggling it like before.
Then Sora’s barrel flew sideways. Toward the ship? About ten seconds later, the speed tapered off, and she was lowered slowly until the bottom of the drum thunked onto wood.
She remained very still and quiet, resisting the temptation even to brush away the hair tickling her face.
Something else heavy thudded down near her barrel. Followed by another and another. Sora kept count. There had been thirteen crates and three drums, besides her own, in the back of that cart.
When her tally reached sixteen, the thumping stopped. That’s it, she thought.
Sora smiled and rested her head back against the oranges. She was on Prince Gin’s ship.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Empress Aki paced the courtyard inside Rose Palace.
“I don’t like this,” she said to Glass Lady.
There hadn’t been any new typhoon attacks, which ought to have been good news. But there also hadn’t been any hint of the ominous magic or the ship that Glass Lady had seen. Aki got the feeling that an enormous trap was being set up around them, and they were too oblivious to realize it was happening.
“Are we receiving daily updates from the Society outposts around the kingdom?” Aki asked.
“Yes,” Glass Lady said. “The only post we did not hear from this morning was the Paro Village taigas, but that isn’t unusual. Things are slow out there, so they don’t always report daily.”
“What if that’s where the enemy is?”
“Unlikely. There’s nothing out there. There’s no reason why an enemy would want Paro Village over the larger, more valuable targets in Kichona.”
Aki stopped pacing and whirled to face the commander. “So we’re just sitting around, waiting for them to strike again?” As soon as she asked the question, though, she realized how much she sounded like a shrill teenager, accusing a grown-up of not knowing better despite all her years of experience. “I’m sorry,” Aki said. “That didn’t come out the way I meant it. I do not doubt the Society’s methods, but it’s frustrating that we don’t know anything more.”
Glass Lady nodded. “Believe me, I wish we knew more as well. But until we catch sight of our enemy again, all we can do is practice extreme vigilance. Taigas around the kingdom are on high alert and have been ordered to double their patrols. The navy is on constant watch for anomalies, everything from unregistered ships coming to port to unexplainable weather patterns. And the scholars at the Citadel are diligently combing through our libraries for references to the kind of magic I saw, whether it’s in historical scrolls or texts collected from other kingdoms or our own folklore. We have the very best on the job, Your Majesty, and when our enemy decides to rear its head again, we will be ready.”
“Very well, Commander.” Aki restrained herself from demanding that she see progress soon. The Society would get her information as soon as they had it.
But it wasn’t enough for Aki to do nothing while waiting. After Glass Lady left, the empress turned to Graystone, one of her Imperial Guards. “I need to go to the temple,” she said.
Graystone bowed. “I will fetch your kit, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you. I’ll meet you there.”
Luna was the taigas’ patron deity, but her sister, Sola, ruler of the sun, was the goddess of the imperial family. All emperors and empresses were blessed by Sola to rule Kichona.
Aki climbed the spiraling gold steps that led up to Rose Palace’s highest turret. Unlike the other towers, Sola’s temple was constructed of red and orange crystal to honor the fiery light of the sun. It stood alone in the center of the palace, and at the top of the staircase, a fountain of cool, clear water bubbled eternally, needing no rain or underground spring to replenish it.
At the threshold to the temple, Aki stepped out of her shoes, leaving the delicately embroidered slippers on the last stair. She washed her hands in the fountain, rinsing herself of the impurities of earthly life before she addressed the goddess. When she was clean enough, she walked into the small chamber of the temple itself. The Imperial Guards remained outside; gods and goddesses appeared only for the royal family.
The interior of the temple varied in color, depending on the time of day and the mood of the sun. Sometimes light streamed through the crystal and cast a pale orange everywhere. Other times, the room was a swirl of red and gold, like an autumn leaf made of sunbeams.
Today, however, the temple was dark crimson. This is not a good sign, Aki thought.
She knelt before the shrine and lit a stick of incense. Its smoky pomegranate scent wafted up toward the heavens but did nothing to soothe the empress’s nerves.
Aki set down the blue velvet roll Graystone had fetched for her. She untied the gold ribbon and unfurled the velvet on the low table, her fingers shaking. The contents of the roll constituted “the kit” given to each emperor and empress on coronation day: a long needle forged of pure gold; a small, rose-cry
stal disk; and a white handkerchief, embroidered with the imperial family crest. The Ora tiger wearing a crown graced the corner of the silk.
She centered the crystal disk on the velvet roll. Then she raised the needle to her finger. “I am Aki Ora, empress of Kichona, servant to Sola. I give my blood as proof that I am who I claim, and that it is my honor to offer my life for Kichona.” She pricked her skin, inhaled sharply, and held her finger above the crystal disk. A single droplet of blood fell, as dark as the crimson of the room.
Aki pressed the square of white silk to her finger. The handkerchief was never to be washed or replaced. The blood accumulated over the years was a record of many things, not only the length of an emperor’s rule, but also the number of times Sola’s advice had to be sought. Peaceful reigns required fewer visits to the temple. Turbulent ones left the silk entirely stained with red.
This was only the second drop of blood on Aki’s handkerchief. It could be seen as a victory, evidence of her tranquil reign as the Benevolent One. But Aki frowned at it. Two bloodstains were two too many.
Her blood glistened on the crystal, shiny and round like the most valuable of rubies. Aki waited. Every beat of her heart felt like a century.
Half an hour later, the temperature in the temple warmed, as the sun beamed brighter through its walls. The blood on the disk sizzled. And then it evaporated.
Sola appeared. Even though Aki had seen her once before, she still gaped slack-jawed in awe at the goddess’s radiance. The light surrounding Sola was so bright, it nearly blinded Aki. Even so, she could make out the figure of the goddess within—tall and imposing, with orange flames curling around her head instead of hair. A long red gown, her belly round beneath it, pregnant with the possibilities of the next day. And a face that was smooth as a baby’s one moment, then wrinkled and spotted as a great-grandmother’s the next. The sun goddess had existed for so long, she knew no age.
Simultaneously, Aki felt as if a sliver of herself had been carved away. She gasped, even though she had expected it. Seeking answers or favor from Sola was not free. Age was real for humans, and each visit from Sola cost a year of life. The goddess had just shortened Aki’s by another 365 days.
But it’s for Kichona, Aki reminded herself. It’s worth it.
“You have asked for me,” Sola said, her statement blowing through the temple like a desert wind.
“Yes, my lady,” Aki said, bowing deeply and grateful to be on her knees, since her legs were shaking.
She would have to be quick in explaining what she needed. The daily lives of humans could not hold the gods’ interest for long, and Sola would vanish back to Celestae, island of the gods, if she grew bored.
What bravado Aki had presented when talking to Glass Lady, she shed now.
“My kingdom has been attacked, my lady, but I don’t know what it is that we face. What should I do? Who is this enemy? Will Kichona be safe?”
While Sola considered this, the chamber heated up more as the sun focused its beam on the temple. The crystal acted as a magnifying glass, and Aki grew light-headed. She held on to the shrine’s table to steady herself. The only other time she’d come—to consult Sola about what would become the Blood Rift—Aki had nearly passed out under the goddess’s fiery gaze.
But Aki hadn’t fainted, and she wouldn’t today, either. I am as strong as I was then, she thought. Or stronger. Even if I don’t feel it.
Sola strolled over to the dais where Aki had offered her blood and lit incense to send her request to the heavens. The goddess picked up the handkerchief.
“I do not like to be called upon to settle petty human disputes.”
Aki fell to the ground and bowed again. “I’m sorry, my lady. I didn’t know where else to turn.”
Sola scrutinized her. The intensity of her stare was like the heat of a bonfire.
Just as Aki felt as if she would be roasted alive, the goddess relented. “You are young, and therefore unsure,” Sola said. “But I see in you great love for Kichona and unwavering conviction. Stay true to your compass, and you will prevail.”
Aki looked up from the floor. “Thank you, my lady. But you didn’t tell me—who is this new enemy we face?”
The goddess glanced at the handkerchief in her hand. She traced a finger across the silk, ending at the embroidered Ora tiger. “You don’t need me to tell you. You already know.”
She released the handkerchief and let it flutter to the ground, landing in front of where Aki lay prostrate at the foot of the shrine.
Suddenly, flames shot through the center of the silk in a violent, thin line, precisely where Sola’s finger had traced. Aki jumped backward as the handkerchief flew in the air.
The fire extinguished a moment later. The incense stick snuffed itself out. The temperature in the temple dropped back to normal.
Sola was gone.
Aki collapsed back onto her hands and knees, sweat dripping from her forehead. The handkerchief lay on the floor, cleanly singed and split down the center. Half of the Ora tiger had fallen to Aki’s left, and the other half, to her right.
Her heart nearly stopped.
She had learned how to hold herself up like a proper empress over the past ten years, to deal elegantly with whatever challenges presented themselves, but this . . .
Aki could make excuses about interpretations. She could come up with ways to explain away what Sola had meant.
But it wouldn’t change what was right in front of her—the Ora tiger, torn in two.
Could it be?
Aki pulled on a chain around her neck, freeing an abalone shell locket from beneath her collar. Inside were two portraits, side by side, of a gold-haired little girl and her twin brother, the pictures done in profile so it looked as if they were smiling at each other.
She ran her finger over the boy’s portrait. They had been inseparable once. That is, until he began training as a taiga. Because he was royalty, he was taught privately in Rose Palace, rather than with the other apprentices at the Citadel. But being a magical warrior in the making went to her brother’s head, especially since Aki was not blessed with Luna’s magic. Arrogance and avarice moved in between the siblings. Gin gained a taste for power. Aki lost her best friend.
She didn’t want to breathe. Her brother could be alive. How many nights had she lain awake in bed, dreaming that she hadn’t stood up to Gin back then, imagining a world where the Blood Rift hadn’t happened and she’d let him wear the crown instead of fighting him for it. A world where she still had a brother, a twin.
“Is it really you, Gin?”
But then she remembered what happened when those fantasies intersected with reality: if Gin were on the throne, he would chase Zomuri’s legend. He’d use the Society to attack and colonize other kingdoms, and this peaceful, steady life established by their father and the Ora rulers before him would cease to exist. War was not conducted in a vacuum. Bloodshed on the shores of other kingdoms meant bloodshed on Kichona’s shores in return.
So if this split handkerchief meant what Aki thought it meant, then what was coming wasn’t just a reunion between brother and sister. If Gin was the one who possessed the new magic, he’d have a chance to get what he always wanted—the throne, Kichona, and the Evermore.
Aki pressed the locket to her chest.
Her brother would destroy everything.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Daemon sat with his knees to his chest in a dark corner of the ship, behind several wooden boxes in the cargo hold. The air was dank and heavy down here, since there was no ventilation. It stank of stale water and damp rope and old, rotted wood; even if the sailors who’d previously manned this ship pumped the extra water out of the bilge every morning, it was still impossible to get rid of all of it, and years of seafaring seeped into the groaning planks, infusing the ship with every algae- and salt-water-soaked journey in its history.
In spite of the stench and the unsteady rocking of the ship, though, Daemon’s stomach growled. He hadn’t had
anything to eat other than a handful of rice crackers and dried fish, before they arrived at Kaede City.
You’re going to have to wait, Daemon thought to his stomach, even if you have to eat yourself. There was no way he was leaving this part of the ship until Sora arrived.
The passing of each minute was excruciating, as if the wheel of time needed oiling and had slowed to a creaking, halting pace. He clenched his teeth as he waited for her.
Don’t be ridiculous, he chastised himself. There’s no panic coming through the bond. Sora’s fine.
But still, Daemon gound his teeth some more.
Forty-five torturous minutes later, Sora dropped down from the ladder and snuck into the cargo hold. The tension in Daemon’s neck and shoulders released as soon as he saw her, but he remained in his corner, tucked away in the shadows, watching as Sora darted around boxes and coils of rope that cluttered the floor. Her movements were fluid yet precise. She was a beautiful, deadly weapon. He never got the chance to simply admire her, and this rare opportunity might never come up again.
When she made it close to his hiding place, he finally stood. Sora smiled when she saw him.
Daemon grinned. “What took you so long?”
She punched him on the shoulder. “I had to wait until foot traffic died down in the hold I was in. It was busier up there.”
“I bet it smelled better, though.” The humid potpourri of mildewed rope and fetid water momentarily overpowered him again.
Sora wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, it did.” She began to explore the hold, looking for a place they could hide more permanently. “Anyway, before I got on the ship, I overheard a girl called Virtuoso teaching one of the new ryuu how to use their magic.”
“Learn anything useful?”
“Maybe. I couldn’t see what they were doing because I was inside a barrel of oranges, but I have an idea, in vague terms, of how ryuu magic can work, at least on a beginner level.” She frowned at the boxes around them. “There aren’t any good places to hide that won’t be exposed by a ryuu just walking through here.”
