Page 34 of A Forgery of Fate

I swore I heard a laugh tinkling within its hollows.

Chapter Nine

“You’ve got a cut on your face,” Mama said, her first words since we’d escaped. “On your cheek.”

I touched the gash and looked at Mama tiredly. Of all the things I expected her to talk about—Puhkan capturing us and burning down our old house, the watery phoenix that had burst out of my ring to rescue us, this lavish carriage that was taking us who-knew-where—of course she’d fixate upon a scratch on my face.

“It’ll heal,” I said.

“Be more careful next time. Scars are not good for fortune. They’re not pleasant to look at either. Don’t smile until it heals, or it’ll stretch out—”

“Mama!”

Mama pursed her lips, but she let it go. All this fuss was just to hide what was really on her mind. “Is it true?” she asked me then, very softly. “You can paint the future?”

The same question perched on my sisters’ brows. They looked at me with identical expressions—parted lips, sucked-in cheeks, and oval-wide eyes. But I knew my sisters well enoughto tell what they were thinking: Fal didn’t believe me; Nomi wanted to.

“Sometimes,” I answered.

I expected a slew of questions to follow, but Mama merely folded her hands over her lap. Without another word, she leaned back and closed her eyes, pretending to fall asleep.

That was when Nomi crept forward in her seat. “Did you see Puhkan’s face at the end, all blank and empty? Like a dead fish. What do you think that bird demon did to him?”

Fal frowned. “What makes you think that was a demon?”

“Its eyes. They were red.” Nomi snorted. “Nothing like a phoenix.”

I was quiet, but my fingers instinctively brushed across the ring.

Nomi rested her chin on my shoulder. “All this time I thought you were a boring art forger. Turns out you can see the future, and you’ve been consorting with demons.” My sister’s eyes sparkled.

Fal clenched the edge of her cushion. “Enough, Nomi. Tru hasn’t been consorting with demons.” A hesitant pause. “Have you?”

Thank Saino for his timing. A gate rumbled open, loud as thunder, cutting off any reply.

We had wheeled into a courtyard, long enough that it stretched out of sight. Then the mansion sprawled into view: a two-story building with sloping, capped roofs; celadon-glazed windows; and sweeping magnolia trees at every door. In the center, a hooded figure was descending the stairs to meet us.

“Is that the Demon Prince?” Fal gasped. She spun to faceme. “Demon turds, Tru! What’s he doing here—what arewedoing here, at his house?”

Honestly, I didn’t know. “I met him yesterday,” I said. “He bought a painting. Said he’d call for me again.”

“You made a deal with a demon?!”

“Stop panicking, he’s not a demon,” retorted Nomi. “Demons have red eyes. His are yellow, and”—she paused, squinting—“black, I think. He’s a sorcerer.”

I said nothing, but I was staring too. He looked different than yesterday. Taller, fuller—if that was the right word. His hair was knotted and secured by a tidy gold headdress. The umbrella was absent. Gone, too, were his obsidian robes, his cloak now a shell-white mantle that trailed long behind him, like a band of cloud.

Elang’anmi,the phoenix had called him.’Anmiwas an honorific, which meant his name was Elang. A soft, musical name. It didn’t fit him. He looked more like a Zhagar or a Yangonin—Balardan for “reaper of misfortune.”

He was also wearing a different mask. A plain black one that concealed only the left side of his face, so I could make out the angles of an unyielding jaw, imperious cheekbones, and a stern mouth that I doubted had ever uttered a single kindness.

Mama must have had a different reading of his face, for she instantly perked. With a quick hop she disembarked the carriage, dusted her skirt, and tucked her hair behind her ears, beaming as he approached.

“You must be the lord of this estate,” she said, smiling widely. “Our most gracious thanks, Your Highness, for coming to the rescue of my humble little family.”

Mama yanked on Fal’s and Nomi’s arms, bringing themdown with her into a bow. She tugged on my arm too, but my muscles had fossilized into stone. I wouldn’t budge.

“Thank you,” my sisters spoke.

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