Circle of Shadows

by Evelyn Skye

  The entire amphitheater gasped.

  The ability to inspire others to follow was not Prince Gin’s alone. It was in the Ora blood, and Empress Aki hadn’t needed magic to charm the taigas. She had simply opened her heart and brought them into it, made them feel as one with her and the kingdom.

  At that moment, Daemon understood that while he may not be special, he was still a part of the Society, an important part of Kichona with his own role to play.

  The Council pressed their fists over their chests.

  Every single apprentice and warrior rose from their seats and followed.

  “Cloak of night. Heart of light,” they shouted in unison.

  It was a pledge of love and of loyalty.

  And it was a battle cry.

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Sora’s eyes were puffy from crying, and her nose was red from where the thread of the green triplicate whorls on her sleeve had rubbed her skin raw. Only fifteen minutes away, the ryuu camp would have settled in for the night, Hana among them. Sora already felt her absence keenly.

  In the distance, though, Rose Palace continued to shine like a beacon beneath the moon. Sora may have wrecked her chances with her sister, but she still had a shot at saving Kichona. She knew the ryuu’s strengths and weaknesses. She had a plan.

  The Society needed her.

  Sora smothered the last of her sniffles and rose to her feet, standing tall in the clearing. There was work to do, and not much time for it. First, she had to rescue Fairy, and then they had to make their way back to the Citadel. There, Sora would have to convince the Council and Empress Aki to let her destroy Rose Palace as a weapon against the ryuu.

  Easy.

  Sora laughed humorlessly to herself.

  And yet, the challenge energized her. This was what it meant to aspire for more, to become the best person she could be. She would give herself completely to Kichona, or she would die trying.

  Sora made herself invisible and snuck back to the ryuu camp. Amazingly, their size had doubled in the time that Sora had been gone. It was no longer just ryuu now, but also an adjacent camp of pilgrims, the Hearts that Prince Gin had chosen in Paro Village, Sand Mine, Kaede City, Tiger’s Belly, and the Striped Coves. Two hundred boys and girls, men and women, from one to a hundred years old. Sora stopped short and looked at them.

  A boy just a couple years younger than her, arms and legs still lanky because he hadn’t had the chance to grow into them. A woman with wrinkles as thick and heavy as a shar-pei dog’s. A little boy cradled in her arms, on the cusp of toddlerhood, squirming as he sucked on his thumb. And 197 more, all people who’d had their own minds not that long ago, but who now milled around with the distant, contented glimmer in their eyes that Sora was all too familiar with.

  She started in their direction.

  “Great-grandmother,” Sora said, as she approached the old woman holding the baby. “You shouldn’t be here. Bad things are about to happen. You have to flee.”

  But the woman smiled, the corners of her mouth lifting the heavy curtains of the wrinkles around it. “My dear child, this is exactly where I need to be. I am honored to be chosen by the Dragon Prince. You are a taiga. You should understand the joy of giving yourself in service to your kingdom.”

  Sora shook her head. “No. He’s controlling you. This . . . This isn’t what you want.”

  The woman continued beaming as she cuddled the wriggling child. “Yes, Your Honor, it is. I was nothing but a seamstress before, but now I get to be something more.”

  “But . . .”

  The little boy began to cry. The old woman cooed at him, then drifted away, forgetting her conversation.

  Sora almost went after her.

  And then she saw a girl with an abalone comb in her hair. Sora stopped moving.

  It was the girl from the marketplace at Kaede City who had tried to get Daemon to go out with her on a date. But the flirtatious glimmer was gone from her eyes. She moved as if in a trance, humming a chirpy melody, like a soundtrack to her own dream.

  Seeing a Heart whom Sora had known before, now completely dispossessed of her boldness, was like a bucket of ice water in Sora’s face, a reminder that it was useless to try to talk the Hearts out of what they were doing. Sora had had too much experience with Prince Gin’s magic, from the taro-pastry-loving woman in Paro Village who was overjoyed at being chosen as a Heart, to the indomitable taiga warriors who’d fallen prey to hypnosis. Even Sora herself. Talking would do no good. Sora had to push forward with her plan. The only hope was fighting against Prince Gin with the rest of the Society and putting a stop to him before he asked these two hundred souls to cut out their own beating hearts.

  She tiptoed toward the northern edge of the ryuu camp, where most of the warriors had turned in for the night. Fairy’s body was in a covered wagon, a small distance away from the rest of the ryuu, because the cart had been enchanted to a chilly temperature to prevent the empress from decomposing. Sora hoped it wasn’t too cold for an actual, living body.

  When she got closer to the wagon, though, she made herself invisible and stopped to survey the situation. There were a dozen ryuu ringing the cart.

  Did Hana suspect anything? Was she herself here? If so, that would be trickier, because she’d be able to see Sora, even in invisible form.

  Minutes ticked by. The ryuu guarding the wagon may have been numerous, but they were also tired from marching all day, and most were sitting or reclined on the ground, keeping sleepy watch in equidistant posts around the wagon. Only a couple of them bothered to actively patrol the area, but even they kept a wide berth from the cart itself to avoid its cold.

  And there was no Hana in sight—ordinary or invisible.

  Satisfied with this, Sora began her approach. She waited for one of the patrolling ryuu to pass, then slipped past him silently, taking care to move cautiously and not stir the air, a blade of grass, or a speck of dirt. She slinked between two of the reclined guards, one actually asleep and snoring, and crawled up into the covered wagon bed.

  Sora shivered as she inched herself inside. The beams of wood were icy to the touch, and perhaps it was her imagination, but the air seemed tinged blue from the chill. She leaned over Fairy’s body and nearly let out a cry.

  Frost tipped her roommate’s dark lashes. That heart-shaped face, usually so lively, was deathly pale and unmoving, like a statue carved of marble. Her hair had taken on a sheen not caused by the gold of her disguise but from the slick layer of ice that coated each strand. Sora touched a trembling hand to Fairy’s cheek, afraid it would confirm there was nothing there but a corpse.

  But despite the cold, Fairy’s skin was still soft. There was no blush to it, no warmth, but it wasn’t stiff like it would have been were she dead. Sora collapsed in relief on Fairy’s chest.

  “I’m sorry I did this to you,” she whispered. “But you are so brave, and I’m proud of you. I’m proud of us. Just hang in there a little while longer. We’re going home tonight.”

  She tucked a loose gold curl behind Fairy’s ear and brushed the frost away from her lashes.

  Then Sora took a long, deep breath and focused on the emerald dust currently making snowflakes in the cart.

  Stop, she commanded. Make her invisible instead.

  The snow stopped falling. It began to lift Fairy lightly off the makeshift bed of uniforms. Then it began to absorb her. Sora watched as Fairy’s body turned sparkling green, invisible to the ordinary eye.

  She directed the magic to carry Fairy out of the cart. It should have been an easy task, but Sora wasn’t just steering a barrel of oranges. Fairy was a live person, and if she bumped into anything, she would get hurt. Sora asked more magic to bundle itself around Fairy, like a protective blanket.

  She waited for the pacing ryuu to pass. Then Sora slid out of the wagon, and Fairy’s levitating body followed.

  A mere minute later, though, a ryuu behind her cried out, “The empress’s corpse is missing!”

  Damm
it.

  The ryuu’s voice had been muffled—he must have been inside the cart itself—but in just a few seconds, the alarm would be raised.

  Sora commanded the magic to tie itself like gags around the patrolling ryuu.

  “Mmr rmph rroh!” The closest one tried to shout as he tore at his mouth.

  Sora kicked him and slammed the heel of her hand into the back of his neck. He passed out immediately. She slid into the guard next to him, taking out his legs, and similarly knocked him unconscious.

  The ten other ryuu on patrol came running, even though they couldn’t see her. They knew that the empress was being kidnapped, and they’d seen their fellow guards fall. That’s all they needed to dive into the fight headlong.

  Sora drew her sword. She didn’t want to kill them if she could help it, because some of these were new recruits and could hopefully be uncharmed in the future, restored as taigas. But she also didn’t have the time to gently spare everyone. She needed to end this, quickly, before the rest of the camp woke up.

  She had the benefit of invisibility, though. The ryuu had rushed to the spot where the other guards had fallen, but they didn’t know where to attack next.

  Sora smashed the butt of her sword into the heads of four ryuu, one right after the other in rapid succession. They tumbled to the ground.

  The remaining six ryuu pinpointed her location. They didn’t bother with fighting the invisible gags around their mouths anymore. Instead, they focused their efforts and surrounded Sora, drawing their blades. They began to rush forward, some swords held high, some low.

  Another second, and Sora would be skewered half a dozen ways.

  She called on the magic to buoy her, and she leaped into the air as the swords impaled the space she’d just occupied.

  The warriors ran the blades straight through each other. For a horrified moment, they stood there, eyes wide as blood spilled from their bodies, soaking their uniforms. Then, with muffled cries, they toppled over.

  Five of them had been new recruits from Paro Village, Kaede City, and Tiger’s Belly. Now they were just dead ryuu.

  What have I done? Sora thought, landing on the ground beside them.

  But this, as Prince Gin had pointed out, was the cost of war. No matter which side of right she was on, there would be inevitable wrongs.

  Still, she staggered backward at the magnitude of what she’d done. She bumped into something and fell into the mud.

  It was Fairy, her body still levitating but visible, pale and cold, defenseless and vulnerable. Her roommate’s face wrenched Sora from her shock. She had to pull herself together. Her friend’s life depended on it.

  As did the lives of all the Hearts. And the entirety of Kichona’s future, actually.

  Sora gritted her teeth and pulled herself up from the mud. She kept her eyes on Fairy—refusing to look at the dead ryuu anymore—and refocused herself.

  Make her invisible again.

  Emerald dust rushed into Fairy’s body and made her disappear.

  Sora guided Fairy’s floating form through camp. She had to hurry, in case anyone decided to check on the guards by the empress’s cart. But she also had to be extra careful and quiet at the same time. Sora jumped whenever a ryuu turned in his sleep.

  We’re invisible. They can’t see us. Keep going.

  The horses were in the woods just outside camp. They were nearly there. They only had to get past Prince Gin’s tent.

  But Sora hovered for a moment outside where her sister slept. If only she’d had longer with Hana. If only the fate of the kingdom weren’t hanging in the balance, with Sora being the sole taiga who could give Empress Aki and the Society a chance against the ryuu.

  If Sora wanted enough time to report to the Council and put her plan into motion before the ryuu arrived at the Citadel, she had to leave now.

  She looked at Hana’s tent once more, then pressed onward out of the camp, into the woods with Fairy’s body floating behind her.

  Now, back to her friends, back to the Society. Back to the original point of her mission—bringing her knowledge about Prince Gin to the taigas, then stopping him before the Ceremony of Two Hundred Hearts set everything in bloodcurdling motion.

  Sora chose a horse, secured Fairy on the saddle, and climbed on behind her. Sora willed the ryuu particles to show her the path between trees, and she rode hard, letting herself go, surrendering herself and trusting the magic to guide her. Sora’s horse bounded over logs and darted in and out between the gnarled, lichen-covered trunks. They moved so swiftly, the horse’s feet hardly touched the ground before they propelled onward and over the next creek, the next cluster of boulders, the next copse of trees.

  After a while, the damp moss and thick foliage of Jade Forest gave way to the Field of Illusions. The black-and-white sands were a dizzying obstacle, their ever-changing patterns too disorienting for all but taigas who were trained to look beyond them.

  Unfortunately, almost all the ryuu were former taigas. They would have no trouble getting across, especially since they could also rely on their magic to show them the clear green path forward.

  Sora pushed her horse even faster. Every minute was going to be essential for the Society to prepare for this fight. She had to get back.

  They charged through the Field of Illusions, the horse’s hooves spraying sand like fistfuls of scatter shot, the tiny metal pellets Daemon carried as throwing weapons. “Sorry for the bumps,” she said to Fairy, whose body bounced violently in front of Sora. “Almost there.”

  The sand bit into their skin as they barreled forward. The patterns grew more frenzied. Staircases that looked like they descended straight down to the hells. Hills that crested then dropped off precipitously. Swirls that spun forward and backward at gut-churning speed.

  Sora lost track of the emerald path, its particles blending in with the flurrying sand.

  But they were almost there. She had to hold on to her focus.

  Ignore the illusions. Keep an eye on the outline of the Citadel up ahead.

  Concentrate on the ryuu path.

  The emerald particles reappeared then, glittering brighter than before. Sora homed in on them, refusing to let go. Out of the corner of her eye, the towering, oil-slick fortress walls of the Citadel grew clearer, larger, as they sprinted closer.

  The last illusion asserted itself. It became an ever-shifting set of tiny black-and-white rectangles, flashing so rapidly, it could induce seizures.

  “Jump!” Sora shouted at the horse.

  They leaped over the final stretch of sand.

  Then it was over. Home loomed before them, ten stories of black fortifications and heavy, impenetrable gates. Sora exhaled and hugged Fairy. They’d made it. They had escaped Prince Gin and his ryuu.

  And yet, the ache of killing those guards and of abandoning Hana didn’t lessen with distance. In fact, it pulled on Sora, as if part of her had been left behind and had stretched too tautly now. The pain might be a constant—a punishment and a reminder—that she would have to live with.

  Choices, unfortunately, had consequences.

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Daemon paced near the bridge of a little lake. The Council had divided the Citadel into hundreds of sections, each one manned by large teams of taigas cycling through patrol and sleeping shifts. Bramble, one of the warriors in this lake section, jogged up to Daemon. She was in her thirties and an expert at nunchucks; she’d been one of the apprentices’ sparring teachers. “Good evening, Wolf. Your shift is over. I can take your position.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor. Did you sleep well?”

  “Well enough.”

  Daemon nodded. The floor in the boathouse wasn’t the most accommodating of surfaces, but it was better than sleeping out on the dirt, which was what the taigas in a lot of the other sections had to do. It was fine either way, though. Taigas were accustomed to sleeping outdoors while on missions. This was no different; only slightly strange because their actual beds were in the dormitori
es not too far away.

  “Anything notable during your shift?” Bramble asked.

  “No. It was a boring day.”

  “Well, I doubt that will last for long. The ryuu must be coming.”

  Daemon’s stomach pitched.

  “Go get some sleep,” Bramble said. “I think the rest of your team are already at the boathouse.”

  He nodded stiffly. The taigas were preparing, in the best way they knew how, for Prince Gin. But no matter how much detail Daemon and Broomstick told them about the ryuu and Copper Bluff, there was only so much they could comprehend without seeing the ryuu for themselves. The councilmembers were the only ones who’d gotten a taste of the threat at Isle of the Moon. The rest of the taigas were just, well, bracing themselves.

  And then there was the matter of Sora returning. Gods, Daemon hoped he was right that she was on their side. He felt her presence through their gemina bond; she periodically sent him the feeling of steady reassurance, like a lily pad bobbing evenly on a calm pond. There were others, like Bullfrog, who doubted her, but they were wrong. Sora wanted to be the very best taiga she could be, and if anyone understood the desire to prove themselves, it was Daemon.

  Besides, she was with Fairy, right? The ryuu had taken the body of who they thought was the empress, as proof that Prince Gin should wear the crown. Sora probably went back to the ryuu to ensure that Fairy was safe.

  Daemon closed his eyes. He thought about the day he arrived in Dassu Desert, so exhausted, he wanted to tumble from his horse. He could still feel what it was like when Fairy hugged him, her swan-like chest against his chest, her laughter in the face of death. She had held him up first, and then he’d held her. There was so much life in her. Even when she’d needed support, it had still been like holding a firecracker in his hands.

  She was safe, wasn’t she?

  Daemon was unraveling like a rope that had been exposed to the elements for too long.

  But his shift was over for now, so he held himself together as best he could and bowed to Bramble, then jogged off the bridge to the boathouse, where Broomstick and two Level 7 apprentices had started a pot of oat porridge over a fire outside. The warriors on their shift were reporting to the Council.