Night Shine

by Tessa Gratton

  Her tongue tasted a little sour, and she wondered if demons ever had bad breath.

  Probably only if they wanted to. They didn’t need to breathe at all.

  Slowly she stood and stretched, feeling remarkably rested. Her body was ready for anything, not sore or tired or stiff. She licked her lips and shifted so she could grasp at the rocks edging this natural balcony and peer over.

  The Fifth Mountain spread downward in jagged peaks and tumbling boulders and sheer drops. The mirror lake winked at her. She wanted a cold bath. Overhead blue skies rippled with lines of clouds sweeping away from the mountain. The sun was up, a shining full disk, and Nothing wondered if demons could look straight at it without a headache.

  Blinking, she went back to the cave entrance and climbed down, letting herself be swallowed again by the shade.

  Once she’d made it down the ladder to the stairs, she choose a spot in the wall that seemed shaped the right way and correctly tall: she closed her eyes, reached out, and her hand touched the many-petaled knob.

  Inside her bedroom she was alone, and she washed her face, cleaned her mouth, relieved her bladder, and without changing, headed for the mirror lake.

  To Nothing’s surprise Sky and Kirin were there too, along with the spirit of the Selegan River and what seemed to be a hundred dawn sprites.

  The Selegan was shaped like a youth, half-naked and teasing the dawn sprites by lifting handfuls of water and splashing them. The sprites fled, screaming like tiny birds, but swooped around for more, splashing the dragon back by fluttering wet wings at them.

  Sky stood farther into the lake, completely naked, and seeming unbothered by the chill of the water. He glistened, scrubbing at his hair, and called to Kirin on the shore.

  The prince stood among the alders in trousers and a plain tunic, his hair loose to his waist. Elegant gray-brown alder branches cut across him like prison bars between them. But he glanced toward Nothing and his bright eyes caught hers.

  She walked to him, never letting go of his gaze, and Kirin waited.

  “I want to know what I can become,” she said. “It matters more than what I was.”

  “Isn’t that why you’ve agreed to stay with the sorceress these two more days?” he asked. “To let her fill your head with magic.”

  Nothing crossed her arms over her stomach. “Are you so insecure to be nervous at what she may say?”

  “Jealous, Nothing.”

  The admission thrilled her.

  Kirin pressed his mouth into a line.

  “Do you lie to me, Kirin?”

  He shrugged lazily. “I’ve never had to.”

  Nothing finally broke eye contact. She nodded. “I believe you.”

  “You have to, don’t you?” he snarled softly.

  She looked back at his face: his expression was taut, his cheeks pink, and his nostrils flared.

  “Don’t be so surprised,” Kirin said, angry and tight. “I don’t like the idea of you loving me because you have to any more than you do.”

  “Then tell me my name so we both know the key to our binding. Then we can break it.”

  “Not where she can hear.”

  “I trust her.”

  “Trust me.”

  Nothing sighed and turned away. Sky was clomping up the beach toward them. He grabbed a thin towel from a boulder and wrapped it around his waist.

  The Selegan dove into the lake with nary a ripple, then shot up again with a massive spray of water. Nothing laughed at its expression of joy, wanting to go with it.

  Sky said, “Kirin, what’s wrong?”

  Kirin merely reached for Sky, stroking his fingers down the wet muscles of Sky’s arm. The demon-kissed bodyguard let his own expression soften.

  It was strange, but good, to see them touching casually. They never did at home. Everything was always careful and tense between them in the palace, to hide their connection. Nothing frowned at them, realizing these days she’d bought herself were also days she’d bought for them. Kirin should not be so sour about it.

  Just as she opened her mouth to tell him, rain pattered her head despite the sunlight.

  She looked up, and it was the dragon above them, dripping lake water off its spreading wings.

  “Nothing!” called the Selegan.

  She craned her neck to take in the whole spirit. Its wings did not flap, merely spread in still feathered arcs, yet it floated in the wind, weightless. Hovering over her like a rippling, silver sky.

  “Would you like to fly?”

  “Yes!” she cried, and held up her arms.

  “Without us?” Kirin said.

  “Yes!” Nothing said again.

  The dragon took her arms and helped her climb against its neck, which fit her exactly as she straddled between ridges of bone, and she suspected it shrank to the right size. Its scales were sun-warm, and feathers tickled her ankles. Her dress had to look like bubbles of diaphanous orange clouds atop it.

  Sky lifted a hand in farewell, and Kirin pouted viciously. But his bodyguard threw an arm around his neck and dragged him gasping backward toward the cold mirror lake.

  Then Nothing and the Selegan were part of the wind.

  They flew fast, darting across the sky, and Nothing shut her eyes against the cold burn. Wind tore at her hair, stripping beetle pins free, tossing them behind her like shed scales. Nothing laughed: it was painful; it was incredible.

  Beneath her, the dragon’s sinewy neck curved. Nothing bent lower, folding herself against it, and grasped at the ridges. “Where would you like to go?” the dragon rumbled.

  “Anywhere! Everywhere,” she whispered, and it heard.

  Nothing squinted into brilliant light, at silver and green shining below. Sunlight pierced her eyes, reflecting in ripples down the dragon’s scales, setting its feathers to rainbow fire. Nothing blinked tears away, pressed her cheek to the dragon, and hugged it with her whole self.

  She was a piece of the spirit. Wind and cloud and rippling water. There was so much water in the sky itself! she realized.

  The dragon spun them down the mountain, dipping low to skim against its river. A spray of droplets arced against her cheek, raining on her dress, and she laughed.

  Then they were climbing again, up and up into the air. They burst across the rolling black-and-green lava field, swept high to crest the canopy of the rain forest, and then the dragon slowed, turning for her.

  Nothing sat, balanced, and gazed back at the Fifth Mountain.

  It was a furious black slice of stone against the bright sky, majestic and still. Once it must have risen high and sharp in the center, but when it died, when it erupted, the power had blasted the top away, leaving seven ragged peaks in a near-perfect circle. They clawed upward, and Nothing thought of the sorceress saying her demon had held lines of magic sometimes in seven arms.

  “Did the volcano kill the great spirit, or did the death of the spirit cause the mountain to erupt?” she asked.

  “I do not know, little Nothing,” the dragon replied. “I was not friends with the spirit or demon of the Fifth Mountain.”

  “You are friend to the sorceress.”

  “Friend is a complicated thing.”

  Nothing nodded and stroked a hand against the dragon’s scales. She paused, touching with a single finger the line of a single scale: it was as wide as her palm, hard and shining white silver. “Are you her familiar?”

  “The volcano spilled into my river, cutting me off from the rest of the land. I was stagnating, I was a slow drip of power, a scummy lake, when she came.”

  “And she freed you in return for service?”

  “Yes. And I look, sometimes, for beautiful maidens for her.”

  A chill shook Nothing. The center of all this beauty remained death. It was her fault, if she’d been the great demon. An echo of her choices before she’d been born killing people now. She swallowed a sliver of grief, though it cut at her insides. “Take me back, please,” she said.

  The dragon agreed. />
  Their return flight was more leisurely, and Nothing did not have to close her eyes. The ground passed beneath them, so many colors blurring. She warmed again, slowly, even though it was colder higher on the mountain.

  Impetuous creature.

  My demon played too.

  Sometimes it hurt me.

  Nothing tilted her face to the sky so the cold wind could scour away her fledgling love.

  The dragon spiraled down to the mirror lake, and Nothing stripped out of the organza dress. She flung it up into the air and it caught a breeze, billowing out.

  The cloth drifted lazily, gently, butterflies flitting and spinning, down and down until it touched the lake. It soaked water up, drowning, and melted into the blue depths.

  Nothing slid off the dragon’s back in only her pink shell underdress, arms and shoulders bare. She wandered along the shore to where Sky sprawled, drying out in the sun. Beyond him, Kirin knelt in the copse of alder trees, speaking intently to Esrithalan the unicorn.

  When she passed, Sky opened his eyes and caught her ankle. She paused. He said, “What are you doing?”

  Sinking to her knees, she shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “You’re a mess. You look… wild.”

  Nothing touched her tangled hair, finding a single beetle pin. She unlatched it and drew it into her lap. It glinted greenish blue. “Did Kirin tell you everything?”

  “I believe so,” he rumbled.

  Nothing smiled a little. Uncertainty was a constant state with Kirin.

  “You have demon in your blood,” she murmured, tilting her head to study him. The bluish shade along his wide cheeks and sweeping into his hair. His fading bruises were more purple- green than yellowish, and the tiny hairs along his chest and stomach, along the hem of his trousers, were blue-black. All details she’d noticed before, along with his strength and the eerie blue glint of his eyes in the dark. “The demon-kissed families betrayed a Queen of Heaven once, and this was their punishment.”

  “That’s the story,” Sky said softly.

  Nothing lay down beside him, tucking her arm under her head to watch his profile. He blinked, then turned his head to look back at her. Eye to eye. She asked, “Do you feel inhuman?”

  “When I lift a boulder I do, or when someone reminds me like you’re doing now, I feel different.” Sky paused, and she waited. He looked back up, at the sky. “I’m not sure feeling different means the same as feeling inhuman. Everyone feels it sometimes, don’t they? Even Kirin.”

  “Especially Kirin,” she whispered.

  “Besides.” His chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh. “It might be a stigma, but punishment? I am strong. I protect the empire and the Heir to the Moon.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Sky’s lips curved into a very slight smile. “You’re a mess.”

  “Do you think I’m an impetuous creature?”

  “Sometimes. But maybe you’re just unexpected.”

  Nothing sighed too, purposefully mirroring him, then scooted closer in order to lean her temple against his shoulder. He turned his hand and skimmed his knuckles to her bare knee.

  The sunlight was thin but warm enough to feel even through the cold breeze and the scent of ice. Nothing closed her eyes and felt it against her lids. She hugged the beetle pin to her chest, over her scar, curled beside Sky. His breathing was soft and even, and she thought he was drifting into sleep.

  Water licked at the shore, making tiny splashing sounds, and the alder leaves fluttered prettily.

  She wished the sorceress were here too, quiet and resting with them.

  Nothing thought of the sorceress lying on the ground in one of her nice dresses, grass in her hair.

  A shadow covered Nothing’s face, and she opened her eyes to look up at Kirin, who leaned over them with his hands on his hips. “Well, this is something. I should have had myself kidnapped sooner.”

  Sky grunted. “What for?”

  Nothing glanced over. The bodyguard hadn’t even opened his eyes.

  Kirin grinned, crouching at their heads. “You two getting along.” The skirt of his long red jacket brushed Nothing’s hair, tickling her. She reached up and touched his chin. When he glanced at her, she touched his lips. Kirin fell still, watching her, shading her from the sun. He was expressionless, his mouth unmoving under her fingers.

  Nothing shaped his name with her lips and then pressed at his, sliding her hand away.

  The prince caught her hand and brought it back to his mouth. He kissed her palm. Keeping ahold of her, he let his other hand drop to Sky’s forehead and slid his hand into Sky’s hair. Kirin nodded at Nothing.

  She nodded back.

  Kirin sat cross-legged. His knees and shins seemed to cup their heads, and he hunched a little, altogether like a jolly hearth god sheltering his altar.

  “What were you talking about with Esrithalan?” she asked, eyes drifting closed again.

  “We were discussing the Throne of the Moon and what I can do with it.”

  “Does the unicorn know more about how a great demon was bound to a line of emperors?” Nothing asked.

  “It said a god made the palace into an amulet. That’s why the consorts and empress can’t leave once they’re all invested. Why the heir is allowed his summer adventure.”

  Sky shifted as if to speak, but before he could, a great crack of thunder shook the air and the mountain itself.

  Nothing flung herself up.

  The sky was blackening with storm clouds in a gruesome swirl.

  Dawn sprites screamed and scattered.

  The dragon streaked into the air like a pillar of silver, spreading its wings to shield the valley.

  A deep voice yelled across the bowl of the storm, loud enough to hurt: “Sorceress Who Eats Girls, where is the Heir to the Moon?”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  KIRIN AND SKY BOTH stood with Nothing, necks craning to stare up.

  “Sorceress, I challenge you! Where is the Heir to the Moon?”

  The prince shifted beside her, and she spun to push both hands against his chest. “Quiet,” she said.

  “But—”

  Thunder cracked and lightning filled the air with sickly greenish gleam. It throbbed and flashed, and Nothing tugged at Kirin’s hand, dragging him toward the shelter of the alders. Sky put himself in front of Kirin, walking backward to help Nothing corral the prince. Kirin cried out wordless frustration.

  “Sorceress Who Eats Girls!” the voice charged again, louder than anything. Nothing winced and covered her ears.

  A shriek tore through the sky, high and terrible: for a moment a stripe of blue appeared across the storm, a wound of sunlight, and out of nowhere a giant eagle cut upward.

  Its wings were black, tipped in white, and it sliced into the storm, dragging clouds with it. Every scream it made pushed back at the thunder.

  The eagle curved, soaring, and screamed again and again.

  A silver eagle shot from the northeast, talons bared, and the two crashed together.

  Nothing gasped.

  The eagles tumbled down, slashing and screaming: wings bent and flapped hard, and feathers tore free.

  One broke away, the other chased; then the black-and-white eagle was a massive snake: it snapped fangs at the silver eagle, catching its wing. The snake twisted and wrapped itself around the eagle again and again.

  Then it was only a snake, falling, falling toward the mirror lake.

  The snake grew feathered wings and caught itself, skimming the surface raggedly, then beat its wings hard, arcing upward again.

  Lightning crashed down out of the black clouds and ripped through the winged snake.

  It split in two, gore spraying.

  Nothing screamed.

  The Fifth Mountain trembled and the two halves of the snake were two dragons; they reached for each other and caught together, becoming one dragon with two heads. It struggled into the air again, heading directly for the storm.

  “Skybreaker, you will
die on the peaks of my mountain,” another voice reverberated: the sorceress, sounding as wide and deep as an ocean.

  The two-headed dragon spit ice at the clouds, shredding them.

  Nothing slipped away from Kirin and Sky, both of whom stared at the battle. She darted through the alders and slammed her hands against the rocks of the mountain. “Help me get to her,” she said. “Help me.”

  The mountain trembled but did not help.

  Above, the clouds gathered into a giant gray-black monster with eyes of lightning.

  The sorceress became a beast of wings and claws, a whirlwind that cut and sliced, screaming toward the storm monster’s eyes.

  Lightning cracked. Sunlight flashed.

  “Selegan!” Nothing cried, because the mountain only trembled.

  She couldn’t see what was happening or where one monster began and the other ended.

  But blood sprayed through the wind.

  Then it all stopped.

  The storm was gone, and the sorceress.

  Nothing backed away from the cliffside, staring up and up the mountain. “Where are they?” She tried to climb, but there were no footholds. She could go inside, find the spiral stairs and inner ladder to the tiny high valley.

  Someone was yelling her name. Kirin.

  She hit both fists against the rocks.

  “Here,” said cold wind at her back. She whirled: the dragon.

  “Take me up to them!” she cried, throwing herself at the Selegan. It grasped her arm and waist in sharp claws. Nothing held on as the ground dropped away from her bare feet.

  Lightning flashed, but the storm clouds were thinner, sweeping away in furious winds. Nothing tried to keep her eyes open in the harsh, cold air, but she had to wince away.

  She listened: wind, a distant wailing, a crack of thunder, weaker than before. Nothing could not sense the mountain’s heart. Already it had been weak, failing. The sorceress had said she needed a new heart or she needed Nothing.

  The dragon dropped her, and Nothing caught herself in a crouch against the hard rock.

  Wind gusted, shoving the Selegan spirit away. The dragon crashed into the mountain, scrambling to right itself. It growled, wings arcing out; feathers scattered in the wind. Nothing held up a hand to shield her face, staring around. She was on a wide slope of scattered gravel between two jagged peaks, high on the face of the mountain. Near the blasted top.