Page 99 of A Forgery of Fate

Elang had once said that the strongest bridge was made of truth. Perhaps this was my chance to build that bridge—with Ai’long.

Reverent waters,I tried again. This time, in my thoughts, I spoke plainly:You probably know already that I’m not truly Elang’s Heavenly Match—the only reason I’m pretending to be is because the Dragon King stole my father away, years ago when I was a little girl. It’s been so long I can’t even remember the sound of his voice.A lump hardened in my throat.Now that I’m here, I see that I’m not the only one who’s suffered. Yonsar is everything to Elang, and it’s come to mean something to me too. I’m not asking you to take a side against the Dragon King, because I know that you cannot. But if you can, please help us protect the Westerly Seas.

For a second time, I held out the merfolk silk, but I didn’t wait for the water to respond. I let the silk drop from my arms, releasing it as though it were an offering.

Down it fluttered, graceful as a crane’s flight. Beams of iridescent light appeared then, carried by a rippling wave, and they ferried the silk down, draping its gossamer threadsupon the castle and the nearby mountains. Suddenly I felt a heaviness in my body, making me sink back to where I’d started, at Haidi’s side.

My offering had been accepted, but the queen’s work had just begun. The long ends of her hair fanned out, conducting the silken ribbons across Yonsar, twisting and spinning to guide them into place. Then came the most splendorous magic.

The silk spun off into glittering ribbons, knitting itself through the castle’s stone walls, up and down, left and right. No corner was forgotten, no window or eave neglected. And its effect took place immediately.

Invisible barriers prevented the sharks from advancing. The ones that were already past the gates were suddenly sent reeling back, stung by the power of the woven ward. The turtles and merfolk chased them into the backwaters, and I let out a cheer.

“We did it,” I cried.

Merfolk surrounded the castle. Echoing their queen, they touched their hair to the walls, and strands of shimmering magic traveled across the stone and marble, filling the cracks made by the storms. Before long, the castle exuded a soft sheen of enchantment, and the turtles raised their spears in triumph. They honked in celebration as the castle became whole once again, its crumbled walls at last repaired.

When the magic was complete, Haidi’s hair settled into a river behind her back. Her body sagged from the effort, and I caught her arm, holding her upright before she lost her balance.

Queen Haidi cast me a startled frown, and I let go.

“I’m sorry—”

“No.” She smiled. A true smile of warmth—and friendship. “Thank you.”

“I—I should be thankingyou,” I stammered. “We’re grateful…for everything that you’ve done.”

“You should be protected from future storms,” Haidi said. “But be mindful, it will only last through the Resonant Tide. After that you will be at Nazayun’s mercy.”

“I understand,” I replied quietly.

Haidi and I had settled in front of the castle, and while I observed Yonsar’s forces gathering home, the queen observed me. Her brow furrowed. “Something is troubling you.”

“The Dragon King can make monsters out of squids and eels,” I said slowly. “Why should he care so much about a mere half dragon like Elang?”

“A mere half dragon?” A tendril of Haidi’s hair brushed across her lips, lingering there as if it were passing a secret. “Elang is more than that. He is a symbol of defiance, a creature who should never have been born.”

I didn’t understand.

“Dragons do not multiply easily; this is why they sometimes seek mates outside their kind. Merfolk, usually—and on rare occasions, humans. The late lord Ta’ginan did not follow the proper rites when he met Elang’s mother, and so your husband was born in secret, without King Nazayun’s blessing.”

“And because Elang didn’t have this blessing, Nazayun hates him?”

“That is part of it.” Haidi paused. “Have you heard of the Eight and a Half Immortals?”

“I know of the Eight Immortals,” I replied. “Not Eight and a Half.”

“There’s a legend—forgotten by most, immortals and mortals alike—that when a god is no longer deserving of their divinity, eight and a half immortals will come together, bringing forth nine celestial treasures. A hammer that strikes thunder, a mirror that casts lightning, a drum that summons rain, and so on. Together they will create a weapon so formidable that it will vanquish the unworthy god and strip away his power.” Haidi folded her hands. “Nazayun believes that he is a target.”

“With good reason,” I muttered. Then it occurred to me: “He thinks the half immortal is Elang.”

“Correct.” Haidi lowered her voice. “Nazayun has been trying to kill Elang ever since he was born, but each attempt has been unsuccessful. He believes Elang is protected by the Eight Immortals. The mere possibility of a threat is unacceptable; that is why he cursed him.”

“Nazayun fears him.”

A nod. “A fact that he tries to hide, lest it bring him loss of face in the dragon court. Even still, no one dares help Elang.”

“You dared,”I said softly.

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