Page 76 of A Forgery of Fate

“What’s the Western Fold?”

“A chasm along the Spine. It’s not far from the castle.”

“That has to be where we meet Nazayun,” I replied. “Will you take me when the storms are over?”

“Why bother? I thought everything you see is inevitable.”

“It is, but a push can’t hurt.”

“Elang’anmi won’t like you going behind his back.”

Honestly, I didn’t care what Elang thought.

I folded my sketch, pocketing it in my skirt. Soon I’d meet the Dragon King. I would make every second count.

Chapter Twenty-One

When the walls stopped whispering and the water tasted like ash, I knew the storm was over. By the next morning, the turtles had dislodged themselves from the castle. They floated amid the wreckage, hanging like a constellation of sorrows. Quietly they crooned a low song and beat their shells to mourn the fallen.

Elang was in a grim mood. He didn’t even acknowledge me when I found him, clearing rubble alone in the garden. He looked like he’d been there for hours; dust and sediment muddied his tunic, and his hair, usually swept into a tidy knot, was matted against his back, clinging to the silvery-blue ridges of his spine.

I tried not to shiver as I trudged toward him. Outside my room, the water was as frigid as snow. It was still thick, too, and I opened my umbrella to shield myself from falling debris.

“Dumplings?” I offered, slightly breathless as I crouched beside Elang. “Kunkoi brought them last night, but they’re still chewy.”

Elang didn’t look at me. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

He sounded tired. I returned the dumplings to my pocketand shuffled closer to him. “I’m sorry about the turtles,” I said softly. “Can I help?”

“You aren’t needed here.” His yellow eye was cloudier than I’d seen before. “Go back inside.”

He turned to a pile of fallen boulders and placed his palm upon the largest one, his face contorting in concentration. I watched the rock shrink, becoming grains of sand. When it was done, he let out a shaky exhale and gripped his left shoulder, as if he was in pain. Then he swept aside the rubble until he found the next boulder, and he repeated the enchantment.

“Is your shoulder all right?” I asked. “I’ve seen it bother you before.”

A grunt. “It’s nothing. An old wound.”

“From the jellyfish? I could look at it for you—”

“That won’t be necessary.” He started to motion a turtle over to escort me inside, but I moved closer to him, undaunted.

“I had a vision yesterday.”

Finally he spared me a glance. “What was it?”

My hands were half-frozen. I breathed to warm them before unrolling my painting. “Look here, Shani thinks this might be the Western—”

“The Fold,” he finished for me. His jaw locked when he saw the blood. “You ought to return inside. There are rocks falling, and the currents are unpredictable.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

He put his hand over mine. Anyone looking on would think we were being affectionate; they wouldn’t see Elang firmly nudging me toward the castle. “It’s a vision ofyourfuture. If you stay put, it won’t come true.”

Simmering with frustration, I folded the vision back into my pocket. Meanwhile, Elang was still turning rocks intosand. It took me a moment to realize he wasn’t just clearing rubble.

“What are you searching for?” I asked.

It’d been only days since we’d met, but I was starting to learn the clockwork of his two faces, to read the narrowing of his mismatched eyes and the brackets that formed around his mouth when he left words unsaid. The dragon side was less good at hiding its emotions, I found. The vibrance of his scales was muted, his pupil constricted. Something was on his mind.

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