Page 35 of A Forgery of Fate

“Truyan!” Mama elbowed me. “Where are your manners—”

“You are welcome,” Elang said, his voice skipping over Mama before I could respond. I expected him to growl and bark and yell the way he had when we’d first met, but he was acting vaguely courteous. Which only put me more on edge.

“It is late, and I gather that you and your daughters have been without a proper meal.” He gestured at four turtles waiting beside the courtyard entrance. “Allow my servants to show you to supper in your lodgings.”

Mama hardly blinked, as if turtle servants were perfectly ordinary. “Rooms?” she exclaimed. “You’re offering us a place to stay?”

“For tonight,” said Elang. “Rest now. Enjoy the hospitality that my estate has to offer.”

The turtles came forward, one of them offering a bowl of what smelled like medicinal soup. Nomi sniffed it, then was starting to sip when I drew the bowl away from her.

“You shouldn’t accept drinks from strangers,” I said tightly.

“It is medicine,” Elang spoke up. “Andwearen’t strangers.”

I could feel his gaze on me, magnified by the burning weight of my mother and sisters’ curiosity.

“You and your family have nothing to fear,” he continued. “You are safer here than anywhere else.”

Needing no further reassurance, Mama plopped down on a turtle. “You heard him, Truyan. Drink up and come along. It’s been a day.”

I stole a sidelong glance at my sisters. Fal, for all her earlier condemnations of the Demon Prince, was already making cooing sounds at one of his turtles, and Nomi was curiously studying how they waddled. I held in a sigh. My sisters were exhausted, hungry, and still coming out of the shock of our ordeal. I couldn’t blame them for accepting Elang’s hospitality.

As for myself? I curled my lip, refusing to give in. “You go on,” I told my family. “Rest first. I want to speak with theprince,alone.”

“Don’t be long,” Mama said sweetly. She steered her turtle to my side, still smiling while she hissed in my ear, “And don’t be rude, Truyan. I know you. Whatever you have up your sleeve, don’t spoil this opportunity. We have nowhere else to go.”

Mama pulled away and waved brightly. “I’ll see you later, dear daughter.”

As my family proceeded into the manor, I turned to Elang.

“Who are you?” I demanded. “How did you know to have a carriage waiting where Puhkan had taken us?”

“Most people would simply be grateful for such help.” Now that we were alone, Elang’s tone had become frosty and clipped, every word on the cusp of a snarl. “You were nearly killed. Go on with your family.”

I wasn’t going anywhere until I had answers. “That ring you gave me,” I insisted. “There was a spirit inside it. Why did it save us—what do you want from me?”

“If you want to know, then you will go without supper.”

The way he said it, as if that were the ultimate punishment, both comforted and distressed me. To think, Mama thoughtIwas the ill-mannered one.

“I want to know,” I said.

“Then follow me.” In a dark whirl, he pivoted out of the courtyard for the main mansion. He moved like a storm cloud, his walk so fast and fluid I couldn’t tell one step from the next. I panted to keep up, certain he was trying to lose me with such a pace, though once we entered the house, he abruptly came to a halt midstride.

“If you insist on coming this way,” he said, his back still to me, “it would be courteous of you to remove your shoes. They’re leaving mud stains upon my floors.”

I lowered my eyes to the rich rosewood floors, upon which I had indeed left tracks of mud. My attempt to wipe at them with my shoe earned me a vociferous grunt.

Fine.

With a grunt myself, I took off my shoes and carried them in my hand.

“Don’t touch anything,” Elang growled before pacing down the hall.

As if he’d heard me breathing hard, he slowed his pace so I could keep up. Anywhere else I might have been grateful. But here I sensed that every act of hospitality was being tallied into a debt that I’d soon owe.

Art slathered every wall, porcelain vases and brightly woven carpets animating the long and unlit corridors. Deeper into the house were tapestries of Mount Jansu—the island of the immortals—life-sized sculptures of the Great Sages, and painstakingly detailed scrolls of Amana’s children: the sun, moon, and stars. Most were pieces I’d never seen before. Could they be originals? I wished I could linger to find out.

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