Page 53 of A Forgery of Fate

It took me a moment to register her meaning. “Fortune finds those who leap.”

“Something your father liked to say, even when we were young.” She tucked my bangs behind my ear. “I used to be jealous of all the time you’d spend with him, did you know? Now I wish you’d spent more.”

“Did you love him?” I whispered.

Mama pursed her lips tight. I didn’t think she’d answer.

“He broke my heart in the worst way possible,” she said finally. Her voice wobbled, on the verge of breaking. She whispered, “But if I could do it again, I’d still pick him. Pirate and adventurer and all.”

I found I couldn’t speak.

She blew out my candle. “Good night, my Tru.”

My chest tightened as she left. Ever since I’d found out Baba could be in Ai’long, the hope I’d been secretly nursing these past years became all-consuming. I’d never imaginedthere was anything I could dread and want so much at the same time.

What I feared more than anything—more than the dragons, the mysterious realm every legend warned against, even King Nazayun—was the answers I might find about Baba.

Alive or dead.There were only two possible outcomes.

I’ll find him,I thought as I drifted to sleep.Even if I have to tear apart the entire sea, I’ll find him.

Chapter Fourteen

The next morning, Elang and I were married.

It was midsummer in the year of the dragon, an auspicious time to be wed, but the sky gods seemed to disagree. Plump, glutinous clouds eclipsed the sun, and not too far away, Saino beat his thunder drums, stirring up a storm.

As promised, the ceremony was small and private. It took place under a crooked magnolia tree in the garden, where a priest—who I suspected was actually a merman—spoke the words of rite and ritual to bless our union.

I listened with half an ear. The entire time, I knelt on a silk cushion, trying to balance the unwieldy crown on my head and sit up straight under the heaviness of my robes.

“I feel like a walking palanquin,” I had joked to my sisters when they’d helped Mailoh dress me. “I need a mule to help me go forward, these robes are so heavy! And no pockets?”

“You’re the bride, what do you need pockets for?” teased Nomi. “A paintbrush?”

Yes, a paintbrush. Ever since my visions hadstarted, Ialways carried one.“Why not?” I pulled up my veil and blew at its silk. “You’d bring a book if you were in my place.”

“Will you stop fiddling with your veil?” Falina clucked her tongue at me and erased the powder from over my mole. “Keep it on. You’ll be glad for it later.”

She’d been right. Thanks to that suffocating sheet of silk, I didn’t have to smile or pretend to be happy. I could scowl and stare off at the ceiling, even make faces at Elang if I wanted.

But I didn’t. The ceremony was brief and efficient, and all too soon I was called to rise. Elang and I went through the rites, bowing before each direction of the wind and reciting old chants to thank the gods. Finally a long red ribbon was to be wrapped around our wrists—the “red string of fate” to bind us before the Heavens.

Tying the string was a custom in all weddings, meant to symbolically connect the fates of two people, forever. The stronger their love, the stronger their bond.

It’d be easy to cut since we had no bond. I glanced at Elang, wondering if he was thinking the same.

A mistake. He was wearing that intent, piercing gaze I had come to know, except today it was fixed on me as if nothing else in the universe existed, only us. And the way the gold flecks from my headdress spoked his eyes, it was almost…almost…I shook away the thought with a hitch in my breath. It was a good thing he couldn’t see me. He was a better actor than I’d expected.

He folded back his sleeves to begin the ritual, and I saw his hands up close. His fingers were long and human, with hard, round knuckles. His nails, however, were black, curvedalmost like talons. I avoided touching them as I laid my palms atop his.

A quiet laugh escaped his nose. Elang closed his fingers around my hand, taking care that his sharp nails only skimmed my skin. I wasn’t moved. Outwardly our pose might have looked tender, but I alone could feel the taut persistence of his hold—like a reminder that there was no turning back.

“I bind you to me, Tru Saigas,” he spoke, wrapping the string around our wrists. “Until the end of our days upon this earth, under this heaven, and across the seas, our fates are one, our destinies entangled.” He paused then to lift my veil, removing the silken red cloth over my head. When the candlelight bathed my face, he actually smiled. “Whatever course you may wend, I will follow.”

Now it was my turn. I looked up at Elang, mustering a mimicry of his smile. For half a year, this would be the face of the man I’d call my husband. Mask or no mask, I could hardly look at him without recoiling.

“I bind you to me,” I began, repeating his words. The vow tasted like paper, but I forced a measure of feeling into it, as if I were cherishing every word. “Whatever course you may wend, I will follow.”

---