Page 130 of A Forgery of Fate

I parted my lips, an answer on the precipice of my tongue. In the past, I would have barked a refusal without hesitation. Now the words wavered unsteadily.

This much I knew: Elang wanted me to hate him. From the start, that had been his plan. Why, I still didn’t understand, but it had to do with his curse. Which explained why Nazayun was so fixated on my love for him.

But I didn’t have time to ponder that question.

I mustered a scoff. “Elang is a monster. He forced me into a false marriage, trapped me in the realm of dragons, and endangered my entire family. All I want is for things to go back to the way they were.BeforeI met him.”

To punctuate my point, I made my final stroke on the Scroll, angrily stabbing a bead of ink into Elang’s pupil. DearAmana, I prayed that Nazayun had never bothered studying art or painting technique. I prayed he was paying more attention to his grandson’s missing pupils than to the actual shape and composition of the painting….

“It’s done,” I declared. “The portrait is finished.”

“But here I remain,” spoke Elang. His voice startled me. It’d become even more hoarse, and there was a hitch in his words. “The Painter must send her subject off to Oblivion with the Touch of Entrapment. I ask once more, let it be a kiss from my wife.”

It was a good thing I’d completed the portrait. At his confession, my entire world went out of focus. I could barely hold myself upright, let alone breathe.Elang…

“Go on,” allowed the Dragon King. “Bid your husband farewell.”

I swam to Elang’s side. The sea was heavy, causing me to sink with each stroke. Yet my heart felt heaviest of all.

“Why so sad, Saigas?” Elang said softly. “Dare I hope you’ll miss me?”

His eyes were too sincere, too tender.

“Yes,” I whispered. For the first time, I realized it wastrue.

“It’ll be all right.” He touched his forehead to mine. His voice fell to a whisper. “The shrimps are secured.”

Shrimps.That was our old code word for the money. But there was no money here. I looked up at him in confusion—

And that was when his lips found mine.

It was a better kiss than the one we’d shared in Nanhira. Maybe that was because it wasn’t an act anymore. Gone were the pretenses; the lies were exposed and deceptions unearthed. And still I found I wanted him.

He pulled me to him by the waist, and I tasted his lips, taking my time. The black was seeping into his hair, and the cold scales of his dragon face turned warm, almost hot. And when I heard his heart, beating wildly against mine, I held him close, desperately worried that if I let go, he might disappear from the fabric of the universe forever.

Don’t go,I thought, a feverish heat swelling in my chest.Don’t go.

He was the one who let go, and in that moment, I swore all of Ai’long went still.

I waited with bated breath, half convinced that he might vanish any second.

He didn’t. A grin slowly spread across his face. “Clever, Saigas,” he murmured. “Ever so clever.”

And that was when Nazayun realized that he’d been deceived.

We didn’t wait for the consequences. We wouldn’t have survived them.

I threw myself onto Elang’s back. Grabbed him by the horns. A beat later, the ceiling shattered.

In a blitz of golden debris, General Caisan and a brigade of turtles had arrived.

The seas rocked. Lightning dazzled out of Nazayun’s eyes, and entire walls and columns were turned to stone, barely missing Caisan’s forces. The turtles were fast, and their shells were strong. The first thing they did was cluster together to form a shield, swooping down as one to rescue Baba. It was a small miracle I’d remember forever, the sight of General Caisan with my father astride his shell.

I clung tighter to Elang, straddling his back as he swervedtoward his grandfather. Water roared, gathering into a vicious force. We only went faster. Elang was an arrow primed to his target. Nothing could stop him, not even Shani.

Thanks to his years acting as Gaari, he knew my art better than anyone. He knew my lines and strokes, the way I composed my subjects and chose my colors, but most of all, he knew how much I liked to bury little deceptions in my work. Deceptions, like the fact that I hadn’t painted Elang at all. I had painted his reflection—inside the pale blue orb of Nazayun’seye.

Reaching that eye was like scaling a cliff in a storm. Lightning ripped after us, and Elang narrowly scraped past each blast. The heat was blistering. Even my tears burned.

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