Page 83 of A Forgery of Fate

“You’re late,” I said, part delirious and part needing to have the last word.

Then I passed out.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I was lying on a cloud, lazy beams of sunshine tickling my cheeks. This had to be heaven, I thought—until I opened myeyes.

Bubbles of air trailed out of my mouth as I jolted up. I was still in Ai’long, and sitting on a sponge-soft divan, long enough for an eel. Turquoise flames capered from a pot at my side, warmth that I hadn’t felt in days, and a blanket had been folded over my legs and feet. Draped around my shoulders was a familiar white cloak, its hood tucked over my head.

Across from me, carrying a bucket and a scrubbing brush, was Elang. He wore spectacles, the same pair I’d noticed on his desk in Gangsun. They were brass and round and sat awkwardly on the ridge of his nose—slightly too big for his human eye and too small for the dragon one. I liked them.

“You really have a death wish, don’t you?” he said, in lieu of a greeting. “Didn’t I tell you to go back into the castle?”

I threw off my hood. “If I’d listened to you, Mailoh would’ve died.”

“Mailoh was bait.”

“That doesn’t change the fact she was in trouble.”

Elang bit back a retort and touched my forehead. His fingers were warm, chasing away the residual chill inside me. “You were in trouble too.”

The words were chiding, and yet, from the stack of books at his side, the empty cups of tea lining the table, and the lines creasing his brow, I sensed he’d been waiting a long time for me to wake up. That he’d been…worried.

“Is she all right?” I asked.

“She’s resting.” Elang’s voice lost some of its edge. “Her shell was cracked. It will need healing. But yes, she’ll be all right.”

I exhaled in relief. Slowly I sat up, tugging off my cloak, which Elang caught before it floated away. “Where’s Shani?”

“In her ring,” said Elang. His jaw tensed. “You encountered my grandfather in the Fold. What did he say to you?”

I sobered. “No surprise, he doesn’t believe we’re a blissfully wedded couple—he asked me why I’m here.” I bit down on my lip as my chest pinched from remembering. “He offered me my father back…if I told him.”

“You didn’t,” said Elang.

“Obviously not,” I retorted. “You dragons don’t exactly have a reputation for being honest and honorable. It’s bad enough I made a deal withyou.I’d be an idiot to trust the actual Dragon King. Besides…” I inhaled through my nose. “Besides, I got something out of him. Now Iknowthat my father’s here.”

Elang said nothing and merely dipped his cloak in a bucket, which wasn’t a surprise. He was heartless, after all.

I peeled off my blanket, rather pleased with myself when I didn’t start floating off the divan. As I got my bearings,I became aware of the bandages on my arms, the ointment soothing cuts I didn’t even know I’d gotten. The bowls of soup gone cold at my side, the floating plate of steamed buns. Even my umbrella, which I’d dropped in the Fold, had been washed and was hooked against the arm of my chair.

“Thank you,” I said then, quietly.

“I can’t have you dying.” Elang scrubbed at his cloak. “There’s no time to find another human who can paint.”

I stifled the urge to make a face. Every time I started to think he might not be so bad, he found a way to make me reconsider.

I stuffed a bun into my mouth, appeasing the grumble of my belly, then I observed my surroundings: a circular room with a pinched ceiling and honeycomb walls sparsely decked with books and scrolls. A litter of crumpled papers spontaneously drifted about, and a pair of towels hung from two of the floating sconces, dangling like flabby jowls.

“I didn’t see this room on my tour,” I remarked while I chewed. “A bit messy to be yours, isn’t it?”

Elang set down his cloak. “This is the library.”

“There aren’t many books.”

“The rest are in your room or still in Gangsun.” His tone was curt. “You recall that I was in exile.”

“You brought back your tea. Mailoh mentioned your secret stash.”

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