Page 150 of The Dragon's Promise

“Look,” she spoke, gesturing at me. Her voice was warm and melodious, new to me yet oddly familiar at the same time. “They are bound by Emuri’en’s strand.”

I glanced down at my wrist and saw that it was looped in a luminous thread, tying me to Takkan. I’d seen it once before, when Raikama lay dying.

“Threads are easily severed,” said Lord Sharima’en. “Return home to your rabbits, sister. You have no place here.”

“Indeed, it is not my place,” Imurinya admitted, “but I also bring word from Ai’long. From the Prince of the Four Supreme Seas, heir to the Dragon King.”

My ears perked. His heir?

“What do the dragons want?” Lord Sharima’en said testily. “They’ve never intervened in human dealings before.”

“His Eternal Highness Seryu’ginan reminds us that we required the dragons’ aid in sealing the demons into the mountains, long ago. They are owed a favor, and they demand a voice in the fate of the bloodsake who has released them.” The lady of the moon then paused, and placing weight on each word, she said, “The dragons wish her to live.”

Displeasure darkened Lord Sharima’en’s expression, and brother and sister said nothing—at least, nothing I could hear. I sensed they were speaking. Arguing, to be precise, in the tongue of the gods.

At last, the god of death stepped back, leaving Imurinya to address me. She knelt at my side, stroking my temples. My spirit quavered at her touch, still clinging to my body by just a thread.

“You have demonstrated great fortitude,” she said gravely, “and you have pleased the gods with your deeds on this earth. We are not without mercy.”

I held my breath, not knowing what “mercy” to expect.

“The lord of death and I have come to an agreement,” she said. “We have decided that half is fair. Half is more than most receive.”

“Half?” I echoed.

“Yes, half.” Imurinya’s luminous eyes rested on me. “Shiori’anma, your soul ebbs between life and death—half bound to Bushi’an Takkan, and half to the heavens. Thus, for the remainder of your lifetime, you will spend half of each year on the moon with me.”

Kiki fluttered from behind the lady’s robes, and if I could have leapt to my feet, I would have.

She’d turned into a real bird, with feathers instead of paper wings, and round, unblinking eyes instead of the inked ones I’d made. Gold trimmed her wings, and a vibrant red crown painted her head.

“She found her way to me,” explained Imurinya with a smile.

Will you come? Kiki asked, cheeky as ever. You look awful. Come—come with us.

I lingered. I wasn’t ready.

“The other half of the year…I will spend it on the earth?” I asked. My voice was heady; I couldn’t tell whether I’d spoken the words aloud.

“It is a compromise my brother and I have agreed upon,” said Imurinya. “So long as Bushi’an Takkan lives, so too will this agreement. When his time comes, you will join him in Lord Sharima’en’s realm.”

I glanced at the lord of death, who gave an imperceptible nod. Then I looked at Takkan, wondering whether he could hear or see the immortals. He was still at my side, his eyes bleary and raw.

“That sounds fair enough,” I agreed quietly. “When may I return?”

“You will return each spring and summer.”

“And I’ll be normal?” I asked, swallowing. “Human?”

Imurinya chuckled. “Yes, yes. Human enough to bleed and heal, to age and grow in happiness and wisdom. Even to bear children—should you wish.”

An intense flush heated my cheeks, but Imurinya must have read my mind, for that was exactly what I wished to know.

“Could I return for the winter and the spring instead?” I asked, knowing it was uncouth to bargain with the gods but unable to help myself. “I should like to celebrate my birthday with my family and see the winter cranes. And Iro,” I added. “It’s most beautiful in the winter.”

Imurinya disarmed me with her bright gaze, so intent that my heart skipped. I felt certain that I had erred, and that she and Lord Sharima’en would take away the compromise altogether.

“Very well,” said Imurinya at last. “Winter and spring, it is decided. But for this first cycle, you must wait for spring. Winter approaches, and your body needs to heal.”

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