Page 125 of A Forgery of Fate

On the deck, standing behind the coarsely chiseled rails, was a detail I didn’t remember. A painted man, so lifelike he looked alive. Stubble dotted his cheeks, but that couldn’t hide the slant of his lips, the dimpled chin I used to pinch when I was a child.

Heat rushed to my face, smoldering the backs of my eyes. So many years, I’d wondered what had happened to Baba. Now, finally, I had the answer.

“This is him,” I whispered, touching the painted man. “He’s trapped inside this ship.”

“An Oblivion of his own, I like to think.” The water around Nazayun’s face bubbled with amusement. “At the time, I didn’t even know his daughter would be the Painter, but the fates are masterful poets indeed. Your reunion could not be more fitting.”

I wasn’t listening. My heart was thundering inside me, and my thoughts flew back in time, to Baba on the last night of his life. I pictured the waves thrashing against his ship, the rain pounding. Baba, choosing to save the lives of his sailors even if it meant he’d never see his family again.

Five years of thinking he was dead. Five years of counting every copper and thanking the gods every night I kept my family off the streets, five years of holding myself togetherby the barest thread. All because Nazayun wanted to have a little fun.

Hate came rushing in. The pillar behind my back began to vibrate with my anger. More than anything, I wanted to make the Dragon King pay. I wanted to obliterate that godly smirk from his face and erase him from all existence. The worst of it was that I could do nothing—for now—except buy time.

Smothering my emotions, I lowered myself until I was genuflecting. “Please.” I didn’t need to put on an act to sound small, broken. “Let him go.”

“How quickly the flame goes out,” murmured Nazayun. “Now you see, Bride of the Westerly Seas. You are mine.”

The words turned my blood cold. I knelt lower, mutinously tracking the Dragon King as he loomed across the chamber, his spine curved against the ceiling. In my head, I listed all the adjustments and revisions I’d make to his portrait. First chance I got, I’d destroy him.

Until then, I wanted answers.

“Why him?” I asked. “Hundreds of sailors have been lost to the Taijin Sea, and you pay them no heed. Why spare my father?”

“Arban Saigas.” The name rolled on Nazayun’s tongue. “A hapless merchant, barely able to feed his family. Forgettable in every way. But fate is unpredictable, Lady Saigas.” Nazayun’s eyes sizzled with smug satisfaction. “Your father made a trade of transporting worthless trinkets across the seas, useless baubles that only your fatuous kind might covet. He was of no interest to me—until his last voyage. Can you guess why?”

A treasure’s been found in the North,Baba had told us,and I’m to transport it to the capital.

For years Mama and I had tried to find out what exactly that treasure had been, but every one of our investigations had led to a dead end.

“You don’t know?” Nazayun gave a taunting laugh. “Then I’ll tell you. On your father’s ship was a dragon scale. A great and priceless treasure in your realm, I gather.”

I sucked in a breath. A dragon scale? How was that possible? A single scale alone would have been worth thousands of gold jens. A fortune beyond my family’s wildest dreams.

“Normally I would have sunk his ship for such an offense, and squeezed out the souls of every sailor down the middle of the Straits of the Lost. Then I discovered just whose scale it was.”

“Elang’s,” I whispered, with a sting of realization. He’d told me the story only yesterday. “From the bandits who tried to kill him.”

“Yes. And thus, our story becomes far more interesting.”

“My father didn’t know anything! You could have let himgo.”

“I could have,” he agreed. “As I said, Arban Saigas was no one special. But I’ve lived long enough to mistrust coincidence and recognize the strands of fate at work, even in something as abhorrent as Elangui’s scale. So I kept your father as an investment. I had a feeling he’d be valuable in the future.” Nazayun dipped his head, the tips of his whiskers grazing the marble walls as he moved. “And lo, look at where we are today. You wouldn’t be here if not for his poor choices.”

I was still on my knees. “Let him go,” I said again. Every word cost me dearly in swallowed pride. “Please.”

Nazayun ignored my plea. “The fates are indulgent,” he said. “Even I wouldn’t have guessed that the Painter andElangui’s Heavenly Match would be the same, but now that I see it…there is no solution more elegant, more profane.” His blue eyes danced to me. “Lady Saigas—if you wish to free your father, you shall do something for me.”

I lifted my head, temples pounding, dread corroding my courage. He knew, just as I did, that for Baba, I’d do anything.

“What do you want?”

“For you to paint,” replied the Dragon King, as if it were the simplest request in the world.

The Scroll of Oblivion unspooled from Nazayun’s fingertips, winding across the vast chamber. It tumbled along the marble walls, unfurling white and wide like a bubbling brook.

I braced myself. Minutes ago, I’d witnessed him deliver brutal retribution to Queen Haidi for aiding Yonsar against his storms. What would he do to me for daring to wield the one weapon prophesized to end him? My imagination flashed forward to the cruelest possibilities, but in the end, Nazayun did the one thing that chilled me most.

He smiled.

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