Page 140 of A Forgery of Fate

“That dragon king took Baba from us for five years,” I said through my teeth. “And we’re lucky compared to most. It’s only because of Elang that I found him.”

I could see my mother wavering, and I clasped my hands around hers. “I’ve got to try. I won’t—I can’t lose Elang.”

“I can’t loseyou.”

“You won’t,” I promised.

Mama held my chin, her eyes scanning my face as though she were reading me. Then she let out a sigh. “I knew the typhoon was an omen. Such weather at this time of year! It’s because of you, isn’t it, Tru? Stirring up trouble in Ai’long.”

Without waiting for an answer, she rose. “Nomi, Falina, gather the merfolk. We have work to do.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“You’re not underwater anymore, you can’t just swim around, painting. You’ll need ladders, and a frame to hold the Scroll in place.”

I couldn’t help smiling. This was the Mama I’d missed. She was back, just like Baba.

“I’ll have your father design one for you,” she was saying, “and Tangyor will start with the construction.”

Tangyor? I recognized the name of the man who’d once pushed me out a window, but didn’t expect to hear it here. Then again, any associate of Gaari’s was also an associate of Elang’s. I laughed to myself. First chance I got, I’d seek him out for a reunion.

By mid-morning, everyone in the manor was involved. Caisan and his turtles discussed the vision I’d painted, deliberatingover every daub and mark as they devised a battle plan. The merfolk scouted the mansion for the longest wall, then cleared it as a space for me to paint. Mama gave strict orders that I wasn’t to be disturbed.

And so my work began.

I gained a newfound appreciation for my lessons with Shani. In the hours it’d taken to paint my premonition of the Dragon King, I had captured him perfectly: his scales and horns and whiskers and the breadth of his movement. But on a canvas such as the Scroll of Oblivion, which had expanded to accommodate the Dragon King’s physical size, my work would require far more detail. Detail, like the jagged curves of his nails, the tiered layering of his scales, the inflections of silver in his horns—which would separate a portrait from a true rendering indistinguishable from life itself.

I only hoped a week would be enough.

Late one night, Nomi came to find me while I was painting. She relit the candles that had blown out and observed the shadowy dragon taking shape upon the Scroll. There was no book under her arm, so I knew something was on her mind. Something serious.

“Tru,” she started, “have you kissed Elang?”

I startled, feeling a flush come over my cheeks. Kissing Elang was not something I wanted to discuss with my youngest sister. “Once or twice,” I admitted. “Why?”

Nomi frowned. “I suppose it wouldn’t be that simple.”

“What?”

“Let’s say you’re able to paint the Dragon King into Oblivion. That still leaves you with Elang’s curse. I’ve gone through all the books in the library, but I can’t find anything on how to break it.”

“I don’t think the Dragon King is the sort to leave hints.”

“But Elang is,” insisted Nomi.

I squeezed the water out of my brush, then set it down. Truth be told, his curse preoccupied my thoughts more than anything else. It was the reason I had trouble sleeping.

“He wanted me to despise him from the start,” I said slowly, voicing the few hints that I’d gathered. “I think that’s the real reason he came to me in disguise. As Gaari, he could act more like himself, yet it’d be safe because I’d only ever view him as a friend.”

“Why wouldn’t it be safe for you to like him?”

“I don’t know,” I said with a shiver. “It must have to do with the curse.”

My sister bit down on her lip, hating that, for all her brilliance and learning, she, too, had no idea how to save Elang. But Nomi was practical, if nothing else.

She took off her shawl and draped it over my shoulders. “It’s cold, and too dark in here for you to paint,” she said softly. “I’ll bring more candles.”

A few hours later, I had a visitor.

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