Page 137 of A Forgery of Fate

It would be so easy to end things, to divorce myself of Elang and his war with the Dragon King, and mark this as the beginning of the rest of my life.

The only problem? I was starting to realize I loved himback.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Night fell, and while my mother, father, and sisters reveled in their reunion, laughing over memories and stories retold, it began to rain. After dinner I slipped outside. My fingers had been tingling ever since I touched Nazayun’s eye, stiffening my muscles with the burden of a premonition. Soon it would come.

I walked through Elang’s manor, past the whale sculptures and the paintings of the Eight Immortals. Everything in his home held a new meaning, even the domed pavilion overlooking his garden. I stood by the window, watching the pitter-patter of heaven’s tears against the roof.

Although I’d returned to land, a part of me was still wed to the sea. It was an extra awareness against my skin, how I could feel the winds churning against the garden pond or the frozen rain riming the windows. Even this storm carried a trace of the sea, and I reached my hand out to touch it, as if I were reaching out to Elang.

I drew my hand back. The rain was falling harder. Elang’s manor was high in the hills, safe from any flooding, butoutside the coating of ice had washed away, and the pond overflowed its banks.

“Lady Saigas, you should return inside.”

General Caisan drew out of the shadows, his head stooped so it didn’t touch the ceiling. For such a massive creature, he moved quietly.

With a nod, I let Caisan escort me back to my room.

“I thought you would wish to know,” he said, “His Highness has returned safely to Yonsar.”

My eyes flew up to the turtle. “Is the castle safe?”

“For now.” As he spoke, lightning whipped the sky, thunder booming not far away. “The storms will grow worse as the Dragon King recovers. So long as you possess the Scroll of Oblivion, he will be searching for you.”

I could read the warning between his words. “I’m not returning it.”

Caisan’s expressions were few, generally limited to disdain and displeasure. But he lifted his head out of his shell, a faint hint of approval curving on his mouth. “Then I will make sure he does not find you.” A pause. “It will be harder for him anyway, with only one eye.”

A smile spread across my face. He really was Mailoh’s brother. He had a good nature, it was just concealed beneath a thicker shell. “I misjudged you, General,” I said. “I am sorry for it.”

“You were deceived. There is no need to apologize.”

“You warned me about Shani. If I’d listened to you, if I’d believed you when you insisted that she was Yonsar’s traitor, then—”

“Then I would not have been alerted to the several cracksin our dungeon walls,” Caisan interrupted. “And perhaps a more nefarious villain than myself might have escaped.”

“Like me?” I teased.

Was that a smile from Caisan? I couldn’t tell.

He walked me back inside my room. “Do not blame yourself for what has happened,” he said. “The demon Shanizhun has only survived on account of her treachery. There used to be hundreds like her, but the Dragon King had them slain. She survived only by becoming his servant.”

“Do you mean, she had no choice?”

“Don’t sympathize with her. Look what good that did Lord Elang. You’d do best to remember that demons are not like us.”

He was right, much as I wished it weren’t so.

Caisan padded toward my door. “You’ve had a long journey, Lady Saigas. Rest now—the merfolk will guard the manor. Lord Elang has sent his best to protect you.”

“I know,” I said, acknowledging him. With a nod, I returned to my room. But I had no plans to rest.

I knelt before my desk, rolling back my sleeves carefully, then taking out a piece of paper. One week until the New Year. Painting the Dragon King in that limited time would be no easy feat.

On my left arm, the notes and drawings I’d sketched of Nazayun were smeared, barely readable. But all wasn’t lost.

When I closed my eyes, I could still see him. I could envision the light of his pearl radiating from sapphire scales, how the tips of his whiskers were like rat tails, slightly thicker than the other dragons’. I imagined how I could paint the space between his scales the way I did bamboo nodes: a flick of the wrist to the left, then slide my brush back to the right.

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