Page 158 of A Forgery of Fate

Fingers trembling, I cradled the flower on my palm. My knees had gone numb, and Baba steadied me by the arm before I lost my balance.

“Where did he go—the young man who solved the riddle?”

“I didn’t ask,” replied Aunt Vosan. “It’s been busy. Everyone is trying to get a lantern for the lighting tonight.”

It couldn’t be Elang, could it? After three years, I was no stranger to disappointment, and despite what people kept saying, the pain didn’t get easier. I only got better at hiding it.

Falina tucked the waterbell above my ear and folded my scarf around my neck. “Go find him. You’ll cry off the disappointment if it’s not him. But there’s a chance that it is…and you’ll regret forever if you don’t find out.”

“When did you become so wise?”

“I learned from you, sister. All those years Baba was missing, you never lost hope.”

Oh, Fal,I wanted to say. The truth was, the years that Baba was missing, I did lose hope. Many times. I was familiar with how cruel hope could be, a knife to the heart, paring it away slowly, one cut at a time.

But, as I’d learned from Elang, I had a rather big heart.

I shouldered my way through the teeming crowds, not even daring to blink lest I miss him. There had to be thousandsof people in the streets today—the odds of finding him were scarce.

I’d take the chance.

I trained my eyes for a green lantern, but each time I found one, it wasn’t mine. An hour slipped away, then two. Soon it was nearly dusk, and I’d walked so far I could feel the sinews in my knees twinge with each new step. My belly, too, chastised me. I hadn’t eaten since morning.

Ahead, by the canal, children were selling sweets. Fried dough stuffed with peanuts, candied berries on sticks, sugar-blown animals to celebrate the New Year. I looked around for something spicy, but the line for noodles went around the corner. Pickled vegetables it was, then.

I counted my coins and went up to the stall. That was when I saw my lantern.

It hung from the crossbar of a wooden cart, tucked beside a quiet bridge over the canal. The cart was full of wildflowers. A wide hat obscured the profile of the young man tending them, but I recognized those shoulders—straighter than the horizon. That rigid spine, that audaciously set mouth.

I ventured toward him.Elang,I was about to cry—when my stomach growled. Loudly.

I heard a chuckle. “If you’re looking for Tama’s fishball stall, they’ve already closed for the night.”

That voice. It was warmer than I remembered, the dragon’s growl sanded away. Though I had no ear for music, I’d have known the sound of it anywhere.

Elang turned to face me. From under his hat, I saw his eyes. Both were gray, and framed by brass-rimmed spectacles that sat on the bridge of his nose, a little crooked, as always.

Joy bubbled to my throat. “I wasn’t looking for Tama’s,” I said softly. “I was looking for you.”

“Me?” It was no act, the surprise that flitted across his brow. “Can I help you, miss?”

Miss.That one word was a lance into my joy, turning my muscles cold. I searched his face, certain he was teasing. But there was no recognition in his eyes. His expression was blank, as though he’d never met me before. As though I were a stranger.

“It’s me,” I said.

Tru.Saigas.Your moss. Your wife.

He took me in, his eyes falling to the waterbell in my hair. The pleats in his brow unfolded, and a flicker of recognition brightened his face, just a touch.

“Sons of the Wind,” he said. “You’re the artist. The girl with the blue hair!”

I took a step back, my world swaying. Was it possible to be so deliriously happy and devastated at the same time? Never, in the thousand dreams I’d dreamed of Elang, had I imagined he might forget me.

“Yes,” I said, swallowing hard. “You solved my riddle. No one’s solved it in three years.”

“It was a tricky one. But it helps that I work with flowers.”

“Did you grow this waterbell?” I asked, touching the one in my hair.

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