by Evelyn Skye
She caught up to Hana only when they reached Ao Hills, their stop for the evening. It was another two days to Copper Bluff. Perhaps less, considering ryuu speed.
Sora dropped to the dry grass on the ground. Hana was already roasting a fox she’d somehow caught and skinned in the time it took for Sora to arrive. The blond pelt had been cast aside.
How do I talk to her? Sora wondered. Hana had spoken little since they’d left the Striped Coves. Besides confirming that they were going to kill the empress, Hana hadn’t given any more details. Not how they were going to do this or where they were going. Sora wasn’t even sure if it was progress in their reconciliation that Hana had agreed to the mission, or if it was just following Prince Gin’s orders.
Maybe I’m thinking about this the wrong way. I’m focusing on me. I should think about her.
Maybe the best way to start a conversation would be to appeal to what Hana was most proud of—her ryuuness.
“I’m hesitant to hurl myself through the trees, even though the path is obvious,” Sora said. “I only hope I can be as good with the magic someday as you are. How do you do it?”
Hana didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Sora let her turn the spit in silence, with only the crackling flames to interrupt.
“You’re slow because you’re afraid of crashing into a trunk or not being able to fit through a crooked opening between trees,” Hana finally said. She didn’t look away from the flames as she spoke. “But the magic won’t steer you wrong. If you let yourself go and have faith in it, it’ll work.”
The fox meat suddenly caught on fire. “Crow’s eyes!” Hana cursed.
For a moment, Sora found a tiny spark of joy that her little sister still favored the swearwords that Sora had always liked, the ones she used to tell Hana she was too young to use. Sora grabbed a dead branch and used its leaves to slap at the flames on the meat.
The fire snuffed out, leaving a charred carcass on the spit.
Hana’s fierce exterior broke, and she looked young all of a sudden, not the hard Virtuoso she usually liked to be.
Oh, stinkbug, Sora thought. She wanted to gather her sister in her arms. But it was too soon for that.
“We can scrape off the burnt part,” Sora said. “I’m sure the meat underneath is still edible.”
“I’m not hungry,” Hana said. She pouted at the other supplies they’d brought. A jumble of poles and canvas leaped to attention and assembled itself, magically, of course, into a tent in less time than it had taken for Sora to put the fox fire out.
Sora smiled. There was pride in watching your little sister surpass your abilities. Even if it stung a little.
She left Hana alone to let out her frustration. If this was anything like the tantrums she used to throw when she was a tenderfoot, Hana would run out of steam in a few minutes. Sora turned back to the smoldering remains of the fire, the embers still popping in the remnants of the wood.
As she sat there watching the smoke curling into the sky, though, a dull headache took root. It wasn’t sharp, but more like a constant thrum or a quiet drumbeat at the back of her skull. The rhythm was so well established, it was as if it had been there for a long while. There was also something strangely familiar about it.
What was it?
The mild throb continued, slow and steady. For some reason, it reminded Sora of being asleep, on the cusp of waking.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Like muffled knocking on a door.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Oh. Sora sat up and pressed her hand to the back of her head. She could practically feel the beat in her fingers.
Her gemina bond.
The drumming felt like Daemon pushing gently against her mental ramparts on weekend mornings when she slept in, trying to wake her so they could go to the sparring ring. Is that what this was now? Daemon trying to get her attention.
She hadn’t thought about him much recently, just occasional bursts now and then that quickly faded away because she’d been moving nonstop since becoming a ryuu. But now the balance in her mind felt off. Sora’s feelings weren’t supposed to be alone; Daemon’s were their companion, rounding Sora out to make her whole.
She missed the sensation of his laugh, that feeling like a field of wildflowers had all bloomed at once. She craved the smirk of his jokes. She even wanted the way his emotions leaned on her when he felt insecure.
Sora moved to lower her mental ramparts.
Immediately, though, the warm tide of her promise to Prince Gin rushed in, washing away her yearning for Daemon like a wave erases marks in the sand. You’ve outgrown him, it seemed to remind her.
Yes, she thought, as the heat of ryuu conviction flowed through her, renewed. Sora’s commitment to the Dragon Prince was the only gemina she needed now. The thrumming in Sora’s head faded until it was nearly inaudible. Merely distant background noise.
Sora settled back into her spot in front of the campfire. She remembered her sister, and looked over at where Hana stood by the tents, arms crossed, still huffing.
Hana had been too talented for her own good, in some respects. Among the ryuu, she was always the best, and she was unofficially Prince Gin’s second in command, even though she was only sixteen. Because of all her early success, she didn’t deal well with failure. Being less than perfect seemed to bother her, even if it was something as inconsequential as burning dinner.
“Hey,” Sora said gently, “come back and eat. It’s not bad at all once the char is scraped off. I promise.” She held out a chunk of meat skewered on a twig.
Her sister crossed her arms and huffed. But a minute later, she came back to the fire and accepted the offering. She took a bite.
“See?” Sora said.
Hana grumbled. “It’s all right.”
They devoured the entire fox—learning new magic made Sora even hungrier than usual—and licked their fingers when they were done. With bellies full, Hana relaxed a little, leaning back against a log.
“Is it a secret, where we’re going?” Sora asked, careful not to sound accusatory. “I only ask because you’re doing everything on your own right now, but I could contribute if you told me how.”
Hana nudged a twig into the fire. The flames crackled.
“I can’t let the prince down,” she said, rubbing her face with her hands. “But I . . . gods, this is stupid.”
Sora scooted closer to her. “Nothing’s stupid. Tell me, and we’ll fix it.”
“I drn rahr ri I cah rii rit,” she mumbled straight into her hands.
“Didn’t get that,” Sora said.
Hana ripped her hands away and glared at her. “I don’t know if I can do it, okay?” she shouted. “I hate Empress Aki. But that doesn’t mean I can kill her. She’s the gods-damn empress. I mean . . . as ryuu, we’re trained to protect the Dragon Prince. Yet that somehow gets twisted in my head, and I get stuck on the idea that I should protect—not hurt—the current ruler. Oh gods, it makes no sense. Please don’t tell anyone. I swear, I’m one hundred percent loyal to Prince Gin.”
Sora dared to wrap her arm around Hana. And to her surprise, Hana tucked her head into the crook of Sora’s neck, just like she used to do when they were little.
Her sister’s doubt about carrying out this mission made sense too. The Society was built on a rigid hierarchy, and even though Hana had been there for only a short time, her mind had always operated well under that kind of order. She’d looked up to Sora not only because she was her older sister but also because Sora outranked her. It was the same reason Hana went stomping around and barking at the ryuu now. She outranked them, and she felt compelled to remind everyone of it.
The problem, however, was when Hana was asked to disrespect someone higher up in the chain. Like the empress.
“What kind of ryuu am I, if I can’t even help Prince Gin with the most crucial first part of his plan?” Hana asked. But then she sighed and said, “You wouldn’t understand. You’re under the prince’s spell.”
“Huh?�
�� What was Hana talking about?
“Never mind.”
“But I don’t understand.”
“It’s, um, not important,” Hana said. “What is important is that Prince Gin needs us to take Empress Aki out of the picture, so that he can claim the throne. He ordered us to do this.”
The warm tide coursed through Sora’s body again. It was like a kiss of heat that began in her heart, then spread down her spine, through her limbs, to the very tips of her fingers and toes. She smiled and nodded. “I can kill her.”
Hana sat back up. “What?”
“I understand what you’re going through. It’s possible to believe in a cause but still have trouble doing what you’re supposed to do. That was my life story in the Society, remember?”
“You did have a hard time following their rules.”
“Yeah,” Sora said. “So I understand how you feel. You want Prince Gin to be emperor, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to carry out what he’s asked you to do. I have no qualms, though.” The warmth had become a self-assured blaze inside her now. “If you can take out the Imperial Guards at Copper Bluff, I’ll take care of assassinating the empress. I’ll do it so you don’t have to.”
Hana looked like she might cry, but it was a happy sheen of tears over her eyes. “You’d really do that? Even after I was nasty to you?”
“I’m your sister. Anything within my power, I’d do for you.”
Hana laughed dismissively, but she nestled her head back into the crook of Sora’s neck.
Sora brought her in more tightly and buried her nose in Hana’s hair. She smelled of dirt and sweat, but Sora didn’t mind. She had thought her little sister was gone forever. But here she was, alive and in her arms.
I will never lose you again.
Chapter Forty-Six
Daemon wiped the sweat from where it dripped off his soaked headband. He’d gotten Broomstick’s dragonfly, and he was on his way to meet them.
The desert was brutally unforgiving. Daemon wore a straw hat, but he’d also tied a cloth around his hairline to keep the inevitable additional sweat out of his eyes. And yet it trickled through anyway, first a few droplets, and now a steady stream. It was nothing short of blistering here.
Disappointingly, he hadn’t found anything in the Tiger’s Belly library to explain his immunity to Prince Gin’s charm. The closest thing was an ancient legend about a taiga who had allowed himself to be possessed by a demon named Dassu. Dassu combined taiga magic with devilfire and tried to bring the hells to earth by magically torching Kichona. He managed to burn down a large part of the center of the island before the gods found out (they did not pay much attention to the daily lives of humans, as a general matter). Luna was livid that the magic she’d granted to the taigas had been distorted. So she smothered him, suffocating both the warrior and Dassu inside.
Daemon had shuddered when he finished reading the story. I really hope I’m not the spawn of the devil, he’d thought. He didn’t want Luna to smother him for being able to do more than what a taiga was usually able to do. Maybe there was an argument for not being special.
He shuddered again now as he rode through Dassu Desert, named after the old legend that had otherwise been forgotten.
After two days of travel, Daemon finally arrived at a reddish brown plateau that shimmered under the sun, the only rise in the flat topography of the desert. He cried out at the sight of it and sagged forward in his saddle, nearly falling off his horse out of both exhaustion and relief. Empress Aki had chosen an oasis in which to conduct her negotiations with Prince Gin. As soon as Daemon got above the scorching sand, the temperature dropped twenty degrees. Acacia trees provided ample shade, and a sprawling watering hole sparkled like a pale sapphire in the midst of it.
“Halt!” an Imperial Guard shouted at Daemon’s approach. “Identify yourself!”
I guess I don’t get to fall off my horse quite yet, Daemon thought.
He held both hands in the air to show he had no weapons. “I am Wolf, Level Twelve apprentice, here to join your forces.”
“Dismount. Slowly.”
Daemon followed the directions, keeping his hands in clear view.
The Imperial Guard studied him carefully.
“Wolfie! What are you doing here?” Fairy sprinted past the Imperial Guard and hurled herself at Daemon.
“Oomph,” he said, as he caught her against his chest. She was tiny, but she definitely made an impact.
“I take it you know this apprentice,” the Imperial Guard said.
“Yes. I verify that this is Wolf.” Fairy gave the taiga one of her dazzling smiles.
The warrior ran his hand through his hair almost sheepishly. Her smile tended to have that effect on whomever she trained it, sending the recipient into a temporary daze. Daemon couldn’t help a small laugh.
The Imperial Guard gave Daemon a final once-over, then left them alone.
Fairy buried her face back into his chest and clutched him harder. “Am I glad to see you.”
“Same,” Daemon said. He closed his eyes. Even here in the middle of the desert, Fairy’s hair managed to smell like plums and sweet cream. He didn’t know how she did it, but he was glad for the familiar comfort. Also, he was happy to let her hold him for a minute, because he really was about to fall over.
“Wolf,” a boy said. “Pleased you could join us.”
Daemon opened his eyes. Broomstick stood before him, a crooked, if somewhat solemn, grin on his face.
Fairy released Daemon.
“Did you ask him to come?” she asked Broomstick.
“We need him.”
Daemon and Broomstick slapped each other on the back. “I’m rather pleased to join you too,” Daemon said. “Although what would really make me happy right now is some cold water. And a spot in the shade to lie down for a bit.”
“Maybe I could lie down with you,” Fairy said, winking.
Daemon laughed. “I’ve missed you.”
She faked a pout, but quickly dropped it and laughed too. “I had to try.”
“I do love your persistence.”
“It might be my last chance.” There was an unexpected seriousness in her voice.
Daemon frowned. “What do you mean?”
Broomstick slapped him on the back again. “Don’t listen to her. We’ll catch up in a little while. But let’s get you some water first.”
Daemon watched Fairy for a few seconds more before he shook his bleary head. “Right, water. Also, I need to report to the empress about everything I saw firsthand about her brother. I could only fit a fraction of it on my message.”
Fairy kicked at the sand. “About that . . .”
“No,” Broomstick said. “Let him rest for a bit. Wolf is about to keel over.” He tried to steer Daemon toward the oasis.
Daemon anchored himself to the ground and crossed his arms. “What are you keeping from me?” There was something about Fairy that seemed different, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Dehydration and the heat made thinking difficult.
She walked up to him, put both hands on his shoulder, and pulled him down so she could whisper in his ear. For a moment, he was taken again by the sweet smell of her hair.
But then she said quietly, “Empress Aki didn’t come. If she did, she might die or be subjected to Prince Gin’s magic.”
“So then . . .”
Oh gods. Fairy had always been the prettiest of the Level 12s and this wasn’t the first time her resemblance to the empress had been noticed. Fairy smelled so good now because she wasn’t here as a warrior.
And her hair was dyed gold.
Daemon’s stomach sank into the blistering sand. Stars, how had he not noticed her hair? Was he really that exhausted?
“You’re here as a decoy for the empress, aren’t you?” he asked weakly.
“I’m not supposed to be out here,” she said. “I’m supposed to stay in the tent. But it’s boring in there, just books and makeup. There aren’t even any boys to p
lay with. You’d think that, as empress, I could at least get my own harem of strapping young men. Especially if I’m about to die.”
Daemon gaped. “How can you joke about that?”
Fairy shrugged, but it wasn’t as casual as she hoped it would look. “Besides trying to convince myself that dying for Kichona really is an honor, joking about it is all I can do. Help me by not moping over it, all right?”
He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He saw her in a different light now, and it wasn’t just the desert sun. She held herself taller, those birdlike shoulders more eagle than sparrow. Her lips had a determined set to them too, which was somehow more entrancing than the normal pink pout that all the other boys wanted. And that flash of vulnerability in her eyes made her more real. In the past, Fairy had been almost all show. Now she was courageous but also afraid, and that made her not merely pretty, but beautiful.
Daemon had known Fairy was strong, but offering herself as a decoy for the empress, risking almost certain death, was a magnitude of devotion and duty many could claim to possess, but only a rare few actually did.
“Don’t worry,” he said to Fairy. “We’re not going to let the Dragon Prince capture or kill you, if we can help it. He’s already taken Sora. We’re not going down without a fight.”
“Thank you.” Fairy wrapped her arms around Daemon and leaned heavily against his chest.
It was his turn to hold her up.
That evening, Daemon paced the edge of the bluff, keeping watch as the wind made the sand ripple like an ocean. Prince Gin and his ryuu were coming. He could feel it, even though his gemina connection with Sora was silent, and even though the Imperial Guard lookouts hadn’t seen movement on the desert floor below.
There was a small chance that the Dragon Prince would actually want to negotiate with Empress Aki. If that was the case, the taigas hoped that Fairy resembled the empress enough that the decade that had passed since the Blood Rift would be explanation for the changes in her appearance. Then the burden would be on Fairy’s acting skills. Empress Aki had given her a crash course in her mannerisms and, more important, on terms that were acceptable for a temporary cease-fire.
