Page 145 of A Forgery of Fate

His yellow eye burned. New shadows traced his cheeks. Whatever battles he’d fought in Yonsar had weathered him, but gods, he looked pleased to see me. With no greeting at all, he swept me into an embrace and kissed me.

His lips took in my own, gentle yet demanding, as if I were air and he hadn’t breathed in days. I felt the same. I wrapped my arms around his neck, observing, with a secret thrill, that his eyes became brighter, his scales warmed to my touch. When I leaned my head against his shoulder, I could hear his heart, racing as mine was.

“Foolish, foolish girl,” he murmured, his lips still on mine. “I told you not to come back.”

“And miss out on the three chests of jewels?” I said. “You fiend, my mother would never have it. Besides”—I inhaled—“I have a curse to break.”

Elang drew back, his voice thickening. “Tru, if I don’t get a chance to tell you later—”

“Hush.” I pressed my finger to his lips. “You can’t talk like that. I forbid it.”

Though he gave a nod, I could see how his face closed. He was thinking about his curse, and for the first time, I understood why that would trouble him, why the set of his mouth would go suddenly tense.

I brought his chin up level to mine. Playfully, I covered his yellow eye with my hand and held a lock of his white hair up to his chin.

“What are you doing?”

I tilted my head, pretending to study him. “Seeing how much you look like Gaari.”

“That old man?” Elang pretended to look offended. “And, do I?”

“White hair,” I started, “thick neck, inflated sense of self…” I laughed as he made a face. “Not at all,” I admitted. “Except for here.” I thumbed the scales beneath his gray eye. “They always say a dragon’s spirit is in their eyes.”

The corners of Elang’s mouth played into a smile. Under the glow of his yellow eye, his horns grew long, and a sinuous tail swelled beneath his robes. He held me tight, and we surged upward for the surface.

It was the final hour of the dragon.

Chapter Forty-Four

The sea had become a stage for this last act of Nazayun’s curse. Thunder pounded. Cords of lightning stung the sky. The tides rolled like drums, and as the new moon rose, the sun knelt before heaven. No time could be riper for a god tofall.

The Dragon King was no longer alone on his gleaming crystal ship. Shani had returned, perched in the rigging with her wings spread wide, feathers crackling.

It was almost an affront, how gracefully Elang landed us on the deck. As if to show his grandfather,Once more, you have failed to end me.

Despite it all, Elang bowed in the god’s presence. He would not dishonor his grandfather.

I couldn’t say the same. Now that our act was done, I could be myself. A piddling con artist from the slums of Gangsun. Rather than bow, I made a point of standing tall and raising my Scroll so Nazayun could see it. “Shall we try one last time, Your Majesty,” I proffered, “to kill each other?”

The Dragon King’s gaze narrowed. All he said was “Shanizhun.”

The demon dove, icy wings cutting the air with a wethiss. Just before she hit the deck, she slid into the form of a watery tiger and rebounded into an ambush on Elang.

A sword materialized in Elang’s hand. Shani’s momentum made him stagger, but he wrestled her, dragon against tiger. Dragon won. She flew back, charged again. He swung, hard. The demon splashed to the deck before the blade struck. She knew how he moved. Knew how he thought. She angled her teeth into his claws. Her fangs were dagger-sharp icicles, the hairs on her head a thousand frozen needles. As she jammed her head against his, blood trickled down Elang’s face, catching along the rims of his scales.

I was used to seeing Shani on Elang’s shoulder, two unlikely friends, both the last of their kind. She must have been there when he was Gaari. Invisible at his side, making dry quips and unwelcome commentary about his life choices. There was something heartbreaking about seeing these two as enemies. I wondered if Elang felt it too. If that was why he withheld the full power of his strikes, and wrestled her with the flat of his blade instead of its edge.

Or maybe the demon was simply too strong.

Half of the sun remained. Night was falling fast, and every minute we wasted fighting tilted the battle in the Dragon King’s favor. Of course Nazayun understood this. He remained at the prow, unmoved by the violent winds and thrashing waves. Smiling as more blood was spilled.

Little by little, I stole toward him, holding on to Caisan’s short knife.

The Dragon King looked different than he had just minutes before. Underneath his storm of white hair, the number of scales around his missing eye had visibly increased. Thewiry hairs of that side’s brow had also grown thicker, curling up at the ends like they did when he was a dragon.

I clenched my knife. Could this be a rip in the cloak of magic that gave him human form? Could it be torn further?

If I needed confirmation that I’d discovered something, it came from Queen Haidi’s arrival. From across the deck, she sprang toward me, the spikes of her hair launching over the ship’s rail like deadly grappling hooks.

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