Page 88 of A Forgery of Fate

I was only beginning to see the demon for what she was, behind those flinty red eyes and the sharp bite of her words. “You’re not a monster,” I said. I nudged her with an affectionate poke. “No monster would blot out my bad paintings as cleanly as you do, and no monster would have helped me find Mailoh.”

A harrumph. “You’d have gone off on your own and gotten yourself killed if I hadn’t.”

“Probably,” I acknowledged. I gave her a small smile. “Then again, I swim slower than a seahorse, so maybe I wouldn’t have gotten very far.”

“At least you know it.” Shani flexed her tail, sticking out her spikes. They’d regained their usual gleam. “You saw Nazayun in the pit. Was he as grand as you thought? Or was he a colossal eyesore?”

She was as petty as ever, and my smile widened. “A colossal eyesore. I’m going to be painting until my fingers fall off.”

“You’d better get started, then, or Elang’anmi will have both our heads. The water tells me he’s in a bad mood.”

So he was, but I wouldn’t disclose why. Instead, I changed the topic, asking something I’d been wondering for some time. “Why do you use the honorificanmi?” I asked. “I’ve never heard it before.”

“It’s a title demons use when they’re bound.”

“Bound,” I repeated. “Like a contract?”

“It’s not a contract,” she said sharply. “It is a debt of honor, one that cannot be refused.”

“Because he freed you from the Dragon King.” I understood. “I didn’t know demons had honor.”

I hadn’t meant it as an insult, but Shani’s face contorted with displeasure. “There’s a lot you don’t know about demons.”

Fair enough. “How will your debt be repaid?”

She leaned close, sending a chill deep into my bones. In her lowest voice, she whispered, “With vengeance.”

Vengeance.I, too, was acquiring a taste for the word. It was bitter like poison, and I could taste it even in my dreams.

It was spring, and we were strolling through Gangsun’s Central Gardens. The air smelled green and oily, and the wind scattered peach blossoms across the cobbled paths.

I walked, feeling the grass prick at my ankles and watching the butterflies dance from flower to flower. The gardens were never this empty in the spring. They were crowded and loud and full of pickpockets hiding in the peony bushes. But the air was fragrant, the sun doted on Baba’s dark blue hair, and my skirt flared at my ankles as I walked, a happy bounce in each step. Just for a few minutes, I wanted to believe this was real.

“Your mother tells me you’ve been living in the dragon realm,” Baba said at my side. “How long are you visiting home?”

“A week,” I replied.

“A week with my daughter.” He exhaled. “I’ve missed you.” From his jacket, he drew out a cloth-wrapped figure. “I finished it, like you asked.”

It was my wooden ship, completed.The mast was fresh and smelled of cedar, the sails fully battened with thick,woven linen.Its figurehead was a bird, its wings spread wide.

“Birds always know where home is,” Baba said, repeating something he often used to say.“This one will find her way back to you.”

It felt so real in my hands, the weight of it, the smooth wood, the creases in its sails. I fell deeper into the dream. “It’s beautiful.”

“You should see the ship they built from this model,” said Baba, nodding when my eyes flew up to him. “It’s real, my Tru. My next voyage is in a week. Come with me.”

I set down the wooden ship. “No. I can’t.”

“Why not? Nomi and Fal are coming too.”

“I can’t. I have to go back.” I touched the opal on my ring; it was warm. “To Ai’long.”

“To Ai’long,” repeated my father. “Let me guess, your mother put you up to it. I hope not for the money.”

Baba was teasing, but still the words made my ears burn. “No,” I said. “Not for the money. For you.”

“Then you’re in luck.” Baba gave a hearty laugh. “HereI am.”

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