Page 29 of A Forgery of Fate

“There is only one like it in the world. I assure you, it will cover your debts.”

His self-assurance annoyed me, but I didn’t argue. I knew this ring was the key to saving Falina. I slipped it over my thumb, the only finger it fit.

A moon gate had appeared in the middle of the garden—leading to a carriage parked along the road. I could have sworn that neither had been there a moment ago.

“Shanizhun,” the Demon Prince said, “escort our guest to the carriage and take her home. See to it she doesn’t step on the moss.”

Shanizhun?Who was he talking to? I saw no one else with us in the garden.

But my heels suddenly went up, for an invisible something—orsomeone—carried me not quite gently through the moon gate, into the carriage.

The door shut me inside.

For a moment, I was stunned. I was no stranger to magic, thanks to my visions, but I’d never seen anything like this: gates and carriages materializing out of thin air, invisible spirits flying me off my feet.

And the Demon Prince! He couldn’t be human. With the mask he wore, his fixation with those strange black flowers, even his hair! During the course of our encounter, it had grown longer until it was past his shoulders. His posture, too, had changed. Earlier he had leaned heavily on his umbrella. Now he no longer seemed to need it.

While I wondered about all this, one of the shutters inside the carriage lifted. The Demon Prince stood outside, the wind still beating against his cloak.

“When my business in Gangsun is finished, I will call on you to fulfill your end of the bargain.”

“What will I owe you?” I asked warily.

“That, we shall discuss next we meet.” He gave an imperceptible nod. “Until then, Truyan Saigas.”

The window shuttered once more, and the wheels started to turn. As I leaned my head back against the carriage’s firm cushions, a chill coursed through my blood.

I never gave him my name.

It was nightfall when the carriage dropped me off a street away from home. Never had I run as fast as when I bolted out into the fish market, taking two stairs at a time past the washroom we shared with three other families, the kitchen that always smelled like burnt rice, then home.

Lantern light flickered from underneath our door. I wrapped my hand around the knob, my heart accelerating with every inch I pushed forward.

Inside, the room was dark. Shadows chased the walls, and I could barely make out Mama’s huddled form, sitting on the bed.

I rushed to her. “Mama,” I said softly.

“Tru!” she said, grabbing my hand once I appeared. She held it so tight it hurt. “Thank Amana, I was worried.”

“Where are Fal and Nomi?”

“Here,” replied Falina, coming out of the closet. Nomi was there too, hands clenched behind her back. I didn’t like how my sisters glanced at each other, their faces pale.

Then I saw him. Seated at our wobbly kitchen table, eating peanuts and tossing the shells out the window into the alleyway.

Puhkan.

“You’re early,” he said. “I take it you’re here to beg for more time?”

He wasn’t alone. I marked two of his men standing in the corners, knives unsheathed.

My pulse doubled in my chest. I twisted the ring from my thumb and held it out. “Here.”

At the sight, Puhkan stood. He’d expected me to return empty-handed. “Impressive,” he said, admiring the ring. Even in the dark, it glittered. “Who’d you steal this from?”

I didn’t owe him an explanation. “It’s worth what Madam Yargui asked for. Fifty thousand jens. Now leave us alone.”

Puhkan closed his fist over the ring. “I happen to have a present for you too.”

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