Page 110 of A Forgery of Fate

He unwrapped a box of fresh dragonbeard candy—a dozen frothy white cocoons of sugar and peanuts, neatly packed. One piece was missing.

“Nomi offered me some,” he explained. He must have been drunk on air, for he actually smiled. “I was curious because of the name. It’s a horrible name for a candy.”

Did you like it?I almost asked, but I bit my tongue just in time. Elang didn’t like sweets.

Also in the bundle was a tin of dried peppercorns, three knotty bulbs of ginger, and other food items from Mama, who clearly worried I wasn’t eating enough.

I folded the gifts back into the paper, my heartstrings growing tight. I could practically smell home: the sandalwood from the incense Fal liked to burn, the first frost on the larch trees, the oil from Mama’s cooking.

“How are they?”

“Your family is well,” said Elang. “But I suspect they’re growing bored. Your mother tried to get me to play tiles withher.”

“Did you?”

Elang was still smiling. He was in an oddly cheerful mood.Playing tiles with my mother? Did he think we were actually married?

He probably cheats,I thought, simmering alongside mypot.

“Did you have noodles when you were back?” I asked crisply. “You were away nearly a week in the mortal realm, and there areexceptionalnoodles in Gangsun.”

“I only ate at home,” he replied. “Your sisters were full of news I’m to relay to you.”

My breath hitched. “Did they write?”

“They wanted to, but I couldn’t risk the patrols finding any letters. I’ll share their stories at dinner.”

Dinner.Never before had he anticipated eating together except to inquire about my visions. Why was he different today? Were I a bit more delusional, I might have thought he’d missed me.

I seized a long coil of kelp, dropping it purposefully into my broth.

“You should rest,” he said obliviously. A basket of roses had arrived in the kitchen, and he unloaded them onto a table. “Don’t be alarmed if your gills start feeling tight—we still have a little while. I’ll have the sangi brought to you as soon as it’s ready—”

“When were you going to tell me that you were Gaari?” I interrupted.

I relished the way his back went rigid. The way his two faces folded, the cautious joy of his mood vanquished.

He said, quietly, “You found the paintings.”

“I found everything.”

He inhaled through his nose. I’d pictured his reaction a hundred different ways. Him locking me in the dungeon withCaisan, ordering Shani to erase my memories, even shifting into Gaari and laughing in my face. But I did not picture him looking relieved.

“I’m glad,” he said.

“You’re glad?” I repeated, my voice rising. “Is that all you can say? You made me think he was dead! You made me think Puhkan sank a knife into his chest.”

“He did,” Elang said, picking up a rose and nicking off its thorns. “I have the scar to show for it.”

I remembered that odious scar. When I’d first seen it, I couldn’t imagine what might pierce a dragon’s scales. But if Elang had been human, and disguised as an old man when he was wounded…so many things now made sense.

“I took a carriage home,” he went on. “Narrowly beat you to Oyang Street before you fell into my garden. I wore black so you wouldn’t see the blood.”

He’d been swathed in black, I remembered now, roaring and growling like a beast. What pain he must’ve been suffering! That umbrella he’d leaned on had been a cane, the pallor of his skin from blood loss.

Revelation made my throat burn, and the gills on my neck constricted. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to even think. I thought of all the times Gaari had come to me with a new job, right when I needed money the most. The way he could read my moods and know how to make me laugh. He had been my mentor, my friend. Now my every memory of him was tainted with Elang’s betrayal.

“Why?” I asked. It was the only word I could muster.

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