Page 101 of A Forgery of Fate

“Rightly so,” I said, ignoring Elang. “They’re peppers—they’re not poisonous.”

“Not poisonous? I ate one and nearly died.”

“You mean, you saw a glimpse of heaven,” I teased. “Trust me, it’s not so bad. I’ll make you noodles with chili sauce for lunch. That’ll change your mind—”

“That’s enough,” Elang interrupted with a growl. He hurled a bundle of thorned sanheia into Kunkoi’s arms. “Bring these to the storeroom.”

The merman blinked, looking rather hopeful. “Does that mean the lesson is over?”

“Go. Now.”

Faster than a sailfish, Kunkoi somersaulted off. Once Elang and I were alone, the half dragon became preoccupied with washing an assortment of vials and flasks. I swam up to help.

“Don’t touch anything,” he said, pushing the bowls away from my reach. “Some of the ingredients are still active. You might contaminate the potion.”

“Sorry.” I pursed my lips. “Were you teaching Kunkoi how to make sangi?”

“Attempting to teach.”

I sent Elang a curious look. “First Queen Haidi, now Kunkoi? Soon it won’t be your precious secret anymore.”

“It was never meant to be a secret. I only kept it one to protect Ai’long. But soon I’ll need others to carry it on.”

“In case you decide to become a whale?” I joked.

He didn’t smile. “Yes, well…half dragons don’t live forever.”

My humor faded. Elang had turned his back to me and was corking the flask of bubbling sangi to cool. “I’m busy, as you can see. What brings you here? Have you had a vision?”

“I’ve had a tingle.”

“And?”

“I need paint,” I said, steering the conversation away from my Sight. “I’ve been working on sketches for Nazayun’s portrait, and the blue’s not right.”

“You cannot start the portrait without a vision,” said Elang crisply.

“Why not? Have youseenyour grandfather? It’ll take weeks to paint him, and I’m halfway through my time here. I need to get started.”

As usual, Elang wasn’t going to provide a useful explanation. “If you haven’t had a premonition, then your presence here is unnecessary. Dinner isn’t for several hours.”

My husband, ever the pleasant conversationalist. I gritted my teeth, striving to be patient.

“I need more paint,” I tried again. “Look.”

From inside my sleeve, I pulled out my latest sketch of Nazayun and unrolled the parchment. “I’ve tried everything, but I can’t mix the right shade of blue for his scales. Maybe if you’ve got some pea flower tea in that treasury of yours, I could try it.”

“What treasury?”

“That secret room where you keep your teas and maps and demons know what else.”

“You went through my crates? There’s a reason that gallery is hidden.”

I crossed my arms, vexed byhisvexed tone. “Do I look like I’ve had time to hunt through your tea tins? I probably should have, given how difficult you’re making this.”

“Let me see that.” With a grunt, Elang took my sketch. He adjusted his spectacles and studied it silently. “The color’s too dull,” he said at last.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

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