by Evelyn Skye
But then Sora adjusted her posture on her saddle and sat taller. The taigas might not stand a chance fighting the ryuu as they were. But what if I could find a way to undermine the ryuu’s magic? It would level the playing field, at least a bit.
In front of her, Shitstorm lifted his tail again. Sora pulled her horse’s reins to the left and trotted around the gelding.
There was always more than one path to get where you needed to go. And if anyone could find it, Sora could.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Daemon and Broomstick rode up to the behemoth gates at the Citadel. A dozen guards perched in watch stations above, arrows aimed at those who dared approach. Others were poised to drop down and attack, should they be needed.
“Who goes there?” the lead warrior asked.
Daemon and Broomstick dismounted. They fell to their knees, splayed their hands wide before them, and pressed their foreheads to the ground.
“Welcome back, apprentices,” the warrior said upon recognizing them. There was a pause. Then he asked, “Broomstick, where’s the rest of the team that went to Dassu Desert?”
Broomstick remained on the ground for a moment before he had the strength to rise and answer. “They’re dead.”
The guard froze as he processed this.
“All of them?”
Daemon nodded. It was too complicated to explain what had happened to Sora and Fairy. Besides, that report should be directed at the Council.
In grim silence, the guards opened the fortress gates. Daemon and Broomstick entered.
As they returned their horses to the stables, Broomstick said, “Do you really believe she’s still alive?”
They hadn’t talked about it the entire journey back from Copper Bluff, but it had loomed over them. Fairy had been so incredibly brave to pose as the empress. She’d known that death might be the price. But Daemon refused to acknowledge it. He could remember the smell of her hair, like plums and sweet cream. He could hear her voice, lilting and teasing, always something scandalous to say just to get a smile out of him. He stopped working to unsaddle his horse. “I . . . I have to believe Fairy’s alive.”
“But what if . . .” Broomstick cast his eyes downward and fiddled with the reins still in his hands. “What about the possibility that Sora is one of them?”
“No.” Daemon left the saddle and turned to Broomstick. He met his gaze and didn’t let go. “I can resist the Dragon Prince’s charm somehow, and Sora seems to benefit from my immunity. I feel her constantly through our gemina bond now, not like before, when she was hypnotized. If she’s still with the ryuu, she has a very good reason for it.”
Broomstick said nothing.
Conviction swelled in Daemon’s chest. He put his hands on Broomstick’s shoulders. “If we don’t believe in each other,” Daemon said, “what have we got left? Prince Gin wants to tear the Society apart. But we have control over this. We get to decide whether we stand with one of our best friends. It’s been the four of us since we were kids. We can’t abandon each other now when we need our friendship the most.”
Silence.
“Fairy will be okay,” Daemon said. “So will Sora. They are the strongest, most tenacious people we know.”
Broomstick kicked at the dirt on the stable floor. But he nodded.
A Level 8 apprentice ran into the stable. Daemon and Broomstick spun to face him.
“Wolf and Broomstick, the Council requests your presence immediately.”
Daemon leaned on his horse. This was going to be a very difficult report to give.
“Do we have time to change into our formal robes?” Broomstick asked.
“No. They want you now.”
“All right,” Daemon said. “Tell them we’re on our way.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Aki’s rooms at the Citadel were more spartan than she was accustomed to, but she didn’t complain. She didn’t need much, and besides, the Society was equipped to house warriors, not empresses pretending to be in Dassu Desert. The taigas had done as much as they could to make this feel like home while she was in hiding. They had knocked down a wall between two suites to form a single enormous one, with a receiving room, an office, a parlor, a meditation room, and of course, her bedchamber. The floors were done simply in reed mats as with the rest of the quarters in the building, and the furniture was utilitarian, but the walls of her temporary rooms had been repainted navy, and they’d found gold fabric to pin up as drapery.
The windows, however, remained papered in black, which took some getting used to after spending a lifetime in the bright, crystalline light of Rose Palace. Nevertheless, these were trifling details. After all, Aki’s kingdom was on the brink of war.
One of her Imperial Guards stepped into the receiving room, where Aki sat on a simple bamboo chair, reading the latest reports from the taigas around the island. All major outposts had been evacuated. Many of the squadrons were coming here, to the Citadel, on Aki’s orders. Whether or not a temporary cease-fire was reached in Dassu Desert, she suspected Gin would eventually march to Rose Palace to try to take the throne.
“Your Majesty, the Council is here.”
They might have an update on whether her brother had agreed to a cease-fire and further discussions, or if he’d killed her decoy. Aki’s stomach swan dived in the most unregal way.
“Thank you,” she said, barely keeping her voice steady. “Send them in.”
Glass Lady, Strategist, Bullfrog, Renegade, and Scythe filed in. They had two apprentices with them. Broomstick had been one of the rogues she’d appointed for the mission. For a moment, Aki dared to hope that it had gone well.
Except Fairy and the Imperial Guards who’d gone to the desert weren’t here.
Aki’s hope plummeted.
The councilmembers and apprentices lay on the ground in deep bows. “Your Majesty.”
Aki pulled herself together as best she could and nodded as they rose. “You have word on my brother?”
“Yes,” Glass Lady said. “As you predicted, Prince Gin wanted you dead. However, there is a bit of a twist we did not foresee. Broomstick and Wolf will report to you, since they were there.”
Wolf shuffled his feet.
Poor boy, Aki thought. He was only seven years younger than she was, but he’d spent his life in school thus far, not exposed to the harsh realities that she’d dealt with—not only the Blood Rift that began her reign, but also the daily problems of the kingdom that had to be solved, from poor weather affecting the harvests to tiger pearl shipments lost at sea to pirates. The happenings at Copper Bluff—and of Prince Gin’s return, in general—were an awful lot for an apprentice to have to handle.
Wolf composed himself quickly and began to recite everything that had happened, not just at Copper Bluff, but from the moment he and Spirit went back to Takish Gorge to investigate the mysterious camp again. As he recapped the events, Aki stopped feeling sorry for him. Instead, she marveled at his strength. He’d watched in horror as Gin charmed taigas to his side and chose innocents as sacrifices for the Ceremony of Two Hundred Hearts, and yet Wolf had pushed on, at personal risk, to infiltrate their ship. He’d snuck into Gin’s cabin, stolen the ryuu’s list of targets, escaped capture, and swam to Tiger’s Belly to transmit his reconnaissance to the Citadel. He’d lost his gemina, both physically and emotionally.
And somehow, Wolf was still standing. I’m sorry, Aki thought. I completely underestimated you.
When he finished his report, Glass Lady spoke. “There will be consequences to your leaving the Citadel without permission. It was a flagrant violation of the rules, as well as reckless. As apprentices, you and Spirit do not yet understand the complexities of the politics Empress Aki must handle, nor the intricacies of military strategy. You could have triggered something the Society would not be able to handle.”
Wolf’s face flushed, but he nodded while continuing to stand at attention.
“Nevertheless,” Aki interjected, “I do appreciate your effort
s.” She understood that the apprentices had to follow certain rules to maintain order in the school, but she also thought the commander was being too rigid in light of what Wolf and his friends had accomplished.
“There is one thing I don’t understand, though,” Aki said. “If Spirit can use ryuu magic now, why didn’t she turn on them at Copper Bluff, and why didn’t she return with you?”
Wolf and Broomstick shifted uncomfortably in place.
“We’ve been asking ourselves the same question the entire journey back,” Wolf finally said.
Bullfrog cleared his throat. “If I may suggest an explanation, Your Majesty.”
Aki dipped her head.
“It seems possible that Spirit succumbed to the Dragon Prince’s charm,” Bullfrog said. “She may have spared Wolf and Broomstick because they used to be her friends. But otherwise, she’s a ryuu.”
Wolf shook his head. “I won’t believe that Spirit actually joined the ryuu. She’s acting as our spy or she has some other plan. I got through to her. I can feel her in our gemina bond again.”
“Perhaps she is lying to you through your connection,” Glass Lady said.
“No,” Wolf said. “Sora—Spirit—wouldn’t do that.”
Aki sighed. “It’s hard to swallow the possibility that someone you love and know well would turn on you. Even now, a decade later, I sometimes can’t believe that the Blood Rift really happened, that my own brother would be willing to kill me to get what he wants.”
“But—” Wolf said.
“I’m not saying that Bullfrog is right,” Aki said. “Yet we must consider it a possibility. We will proceed with the plan to pretend I’m dead and hope that Gin lets his guard down. But we will also be prepared for battle, as best as we can against their magic.”
Wolf nodded but his posture was resigned.
“In the meantime,” Aki said, turning to Glass Lady and the rest of the Council, “I want round-the-clock surveillance tripled around the fortress walls. Set traps throughout the Citadel should the ryuu breach our perimeter or use their invisibility to get inside. Get the tenderfoots out of here—I don’t want a repeat of the fire during the Blood Rift. And I want to address all the taigas, to strengthen their loyalty and attempt to deflect my brother’s charm.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Glass Lady said. “Anything else?”
Aki rose from her chair. “Just be ready to fight.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Jade Forest was a lush gem of gnarled tree trunks covered in fuzzy moss and logs bridging over bubbling creeks, everything bright green and pure, a peaceful barrier that separated the Imperial City from the ryuu and Prince Gin’s mindless, violent vision of Kichona’s future. Sora and the others set up camp for the night, pitching their tents to the melody of a symphony of crickets and unrolling their sleeping mats next to a pond full of water lilies the size of dinner platters. It was a deceptive interlude before what Sora knew would be more bloodshed, and panic exploded like a geyser inside her chest.
She had to leave tonight, while everyone was asleep, to return to the Citadel. She would steal Fairy’s body and take her too. But Sora didn’t have a specific plan for before or after that. She’d stayed with the ryuu to convince Hana to return to the Society with her, but she hadn’t found the right opportunity yet, and time was running out. And Sora had no idea what she was going to do when she made it back to the Citadel. What, exactly, was she going to tell the Council? How in the world would they put an end to this before Prince Gin claimed the crown and followed through on the Ceremony of Two Hundred Hearts? Before the wars really began?
Sora started breathing too quickly. She tried putting her head between her knees.
“Are you all right?” Beetle walked up to her.
She looked up at him and blinked.
“You look like you just ate a durian,” he said.
“Huh?” Sora hastily composed herself. “Oh, it was nothing. I was light-headed, is all. I’m so hungry. Ever since I’ve become a ryuu, it seems I can’t keep up with my appetite.”
“Join the club.” Beetle opened two pouches on his belt to reveal rice crackers and jerky and nuts. He tossed a package of bite-sized molasses cookies to Sora. “You’ll get used to the hunger. Your body is adjusting right now. Your brain has to expend a lot of energy to be able to grasp and keep hold of its understanding of ryuu magic. It’s a huge change from seeing the world as you knew it before. And with that extra burnt energy comes hunger.” He winked and walked off toward the mess area of camp, presumably to pilfer more snacks.
Sora exhaled and her head drooped between her knees again. But then she tore the corner off the paper pouch of cookies. Maybe getting something into her stomach would help calm her down.
She took small bites and chewed deliberately, forcing herself into a sugar-and-flour-centered meditation. After two cookies, her breathing began to slow.
Maybe instead of contemplating the overwhelming task of stopping the momentum of the Dragon Prince’s world war, it would help if Sora focused on a smaller scale. She began to think methodically about the advantages the ryuu had over the taigas. If there was a weakness that could be exposed, the Society might have a chance.
All right, she thought. Let’s start at the beginning.
Ryuu power was based on the same magic as the taigas’.
Taigas needed mudras and chants to cast spells, whereas the ryuu didn’t. Therefore, ryuu could fight physically and magically at the same time, whereas taigas could only do one or the other.
Taiga spells were impressive, but the taigas didn’t know how to do more than enhance their own existing physical skills. Ryuu used the same magic, but they understood it on a more fundamental level, and so they could control things outside of their bodies—weather, elements, insects, inanimate objects.
Sora drummed her fingers on her knee. If it were a battle between taiga magic and ryuu magic, the ryuu would win every time. So what she needed to do was find a way to stop the ryuu from being able to use their magic at all. But how? It’s not like the taigas could just bind all the ryuu’s hands in iron shackles. Ryuu didn’t need to form mudras to cast their spells. All they needed was a thought, and the magic did their bidding.
She grumbled at the emerald particles floating in the air in front of her. They sparkled, oblivious to her frustration.
Sora blinked at them and sat up straight. A smile touched the corner of her lips.
The ryuu might not rely on mudras and chants like taigas did, but they still relied on something else—they needed to be able to see the magic they were calling in order to use it. Hence, Prince Gin gifting them with Sight.
If we can blind them, we’ll have a chance.
The taigas wouldn’t be able to count on throwing stars and shooting arrows at the ryuu’s eyes, though. Too many ryuu would be able to defend themselves from that kind of attack. Sora needed to come up with a way to surprise them and to blind them all at once.
Enchant handkerchiefs to tie around their eyes?
No, same problem as relying on weapons. It would be too difficult to control so many at once and get all the ryuu.
An enormous blanket?
Or a giant mirror. Sora thought of Fairy primping whenever they were going on leave, doing her hair and makeup so she could seduce as many boys as possible when they went into town. Sometimes, her compact would catch the sunlight and throw a blinding flash onto Sora’s side of the room.
But where could she find a mirror big enough?
She remembered what Hana had said a while ago, at the beginning of training—Follow the magic, and it will take you exactly where you need to go. Hana had meant it physically, but what if it could be something more? What if it could guide Sora to what she wanted or needed?
“All right,” she said quietly to herself. “Let’s see how well this magic can understand my thoughts.” She focused in front of her until the emerald particles appeared, swirling in the air.
“Take me where I nee
d to go.”
The green particles danced into a line, and a path shimmered before her.
She followed it through the trees, climbing over slippery mossed boulders and snagging her ankles in the dense foliage. She crossed a creek and trailed the magic up an incline, pushing her way through branches all the way.
Fifteen minutes outside of camp, she came to a clearing at the top of a hill. Sora commanded the magic to sharpen her vision.
Everything came into focus. Straight through the trees, the Imperial City stood proudly—the Citadel’s dark, forbidding walls guarding the bottom, and Rose Palace presiding above, its crystal walls gleaming brightly under the moon.
So brightly, it was as if it were a sign from Luna herself.
Sora gasped and stared with her mouth open. Adrenaline cartwheeled through her veins, the same wondrous, satisfied feeling she got whenever she came up with a new scheme. A grin spread across her face. She knew what she needed to do.
“Thank you, little magic particles. You really did show me the way.”
There was a very slight noise behind her, imperceptible to anyone but those with the most sensitive of taiga ears. Sora whipped around, throwing stars already between her fingers.
Hana emerged from the trees, hands up. “It’s just me,” she said. “I saw you leave camp, and I was curious. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting.”
Sora shook her head and put her throwing stars back in the band across her chest. “You’re not. I wanted to see the stars.” It was the first excuse that came into her head. So many countless nights she’d spent with Daemon on the rooftops at the Citadel, just contemplating the sky.
She suddenly wondered what he was doing now. Was he above the dormitory, stretching his arm up as he often did, reaching for the stars that always seemed to have a pull on him?
“Ah,” Hana said. “You had to get out from under the trees to see.”
Sora nodded.
Her sister walked up to the crest of the hill and stood beside her.
