“You don’t have to act like we aren’t friends,” she said in his ear.
He held on to her for a moment, then reluctantly spoke. “I have to be careful. We weren’t—when you were missing, Kirin was wild. He felt too helpless, I think. I had to keep him calm, and I think I touched him too often. It was impossible not to, after the—the mountain. There were looks. The witch—not Immli, but the one we left with the army—was suspicious. We’re too close to the investiture for me to ruin anything.”
Shine kissed his temple. “We both know you won’t be the one to ruin him.”
“But it won’t matter, if they take the investiture away from him.”
“I know.” She stepped back and put her hands on his shoulders. “I’ll do whatever you need me to. I’ve promised to stay with him until the investiture, and it was his idea to say I’m a sorcerer now, and powerful, and can protect him. Maybe with me between you for the rest of the journey, you don’t have to be so distant.”
Sky shook his head. “It will help, but better for me to be unconcerned. Unavailable. You should be careful too. He was so worried about you, it would be easy to convince people he was in love with you instead. That wouldn’t be much better.”
“We just have to make it to the ritual. The great demon will accept him.”
The bodyguard nodded. He stood slowly, and Shine’s hands fell away. He said, “How are you? Have you spoken to your sorceress?”
“No, but I will tonight.”
“Why did the sorcerers want you?”
Shine grimaced, skewing her gaze to the gentle rippling creek as it caught the last light that filtered through the trees. In the green and violet shadows, aether-motes appeared, hanging in the still air or sometimes spinning. She wanted to go catch a few, see if they were the seeds of maybe-spirits or could be food for demons, or anything really. But Sky was waiting patiently. She said, “They tried to discover what I was made of, for five days. It was terrible.”
“I’m so sorry, Shine. I should’ve—”
“You couldn’t have.”
“I hate that,” Sky said, dark and wretched.
Shine met his gaze and smiled sadly. She didn’t really know how to comfort him from such thoughts.
That night, where she lay curled with her back against Kirin’s around the dying campfire, Shine took out the remains of her pear. It was so crisp and clean, despite the abuse it had suffered. She held it over her head, looking at it against the night sky.
Smoke drifted across the stars, and sounds of rustling cloth, the sighs of horses, and low conversation filled the camp. Wind blew and dry seedpods skittered in the breeze, drowning out the song of late-summer frogs.
She was so excited to see the sorceress again. More excited than she thought she should be.
Shine took a very small bite and closed her eyes, but when Shine appeared in the sorceress’s bedchamber, the sorceress was asleep.
Her copper cheeks seemed hollowed out, her brow slightly furrowed, and she curled on her side like a child. Probably if she was sleeping, that meant whatever harm the sorcerers had done to the Selegan was repaired.
Shine wanted to wake the sorceress. She didn’t, instead perching on the edge of the bed to stare at the sorceress’s black-brown-lava-red hair, braided loosely, at her curved lashes, her strained expression making her look both tired and beautiful.
Had it mattered to Patience the demon that the sorceress had been just a young woman, sixteen and strange, when she left home to find magic? What it had been like, when Shine was a demon?
How had she felt? How had the sorceress convinced her to bargain? Had Patience thought that the sorceress would be an easy meal? An interesting diversion? Only to be surprised and drawn to her, to have tricked itself into love? Had she always wanted the attention of impetuous creatures?
If only the sorceress would open her eyes so Shine could count the cracks in the bone-white iris and learn, maybe, how to shift her own body’s shape. She touched the end of a streak of that rusty lava-red hair, and it occurred to her that maybe—maybe—the color had appeared in the sorceress’s hair because her demon had been volcanic.
Before she left, Shine took an orchid from the shallow water bowl and placed it carefully in the sorceress’s hand so she would know Shine had come.
THIRTY-NINE
HAVING HORSES ADDED A lot of work to making and breaking camps, it turned out.
Kirin himself showed her how to ready their horse’s saddle, how to pull off the rug and scrub the horse’s sweaty back at the end of the day. They checked its hooves, keeping in close contact with the beast so to never startle it. Shine had to leverage all her weight to get anything accomplished on her own.
And her thighs and bottom were so sore the moment she woke that first morning. By halfway through the day her back ached, especially the small of it. She asked if she could ride sideways, curled up and clinging to Kirin, but he said no, then teased her for being the weakest demon he’d ever met.
The second night, as she sat in front of their campfire, having finished her pan bread and stew, she smiled at the tiny fire spirits and reached for them, to siphon life from the flickering flames. She burned her first two fingers, but it worked.
Kirin, observing, was thrilled and urged her to try drawing power from the wind or passing trees as they rode. She explained about burning her fingers and what The Scale had said about growing a seed, and carefully practiced, pressed to his back, but her efforts drew the witch’s attention.
Immli suggested sigils she could use to make charms or coins for such tasks, but without a familiar they likely wouldn’t work. Shine said she didn’t need sigils or a familiar, determined to prove him wrong, though she caught Sky giving her a look and realized maybe she was being too open about her strength and her weaknesses.
That afternoon she dismounted to greet a crossroads spirit in its stone shrine: it was a fox, wily and hilarious. Shine snorted laughter when it answered her obnoxiously, hiding the humor when she translated for her companions and the army, as well as the trio of pilgrims passing by. She informed them the spirit preferred milk to cheese, and resin-gems to gold or silver. Amber was the color of its eyes, and that was why it liked the soft stone. The fox spirit crawled into her lap, but when Sky arrived to collect her, it squeaked and clawed her just hard enough to make tiny drops of blood show on her palms. The pilgrims gasped in awe when invisible claws pricked her skin.
Shine marched to Immli and offered her blood to his mouse demon.
The mouse graciously accepted, flicking its tail into her hand, soaking up her blood.
Immli kept his eyes on Shine while his familiar leaned into his neck. A few tatters of fur thickened with health. The witch said, “Demons draw aether more readily, even small ones.”
“Yes.” Shine wasn’t sure what was the point of him saying so.
“A demon familiar is better for the army than a spirit, unless you can match a great spirit. My Omkin is vital to my battle magic, because it never needs be coaxed to do its job. There is plentiful blood on a battlefield for reward.”
Shine shivered, imagining it: death and dying, free-flowing blood. She did not want that, and swallowed, glad to banish the thought. Her fight on the Fifth Mountain had been different. Exhilarating, not sad or gross. As she remembered it, she recalled too how joyful she’d been, ecstatic at having helped the sorceress, unable to stop laughing, and then the kiss. The kiss had—
Immli suddenly reached out and took her bleeding hand. He cupped it in his own, and with a thin wand of lacquered black hair, drew her remaining blood into a sigil.
It flashed blue-silver as it captured aether, and Shine opened her mouth to say her whole name.
But she stopped. She snapped her mouth shut and glared.
Immli nodded slowly. “I knew you were no sorcerer.”
Shine bared her teeth and said, “You’re strong. I could feed on you for months.”
He blinked, and Shine turned away to find Kir
in, but made sure not to rush. She felt the witch’s eyes on her the whole time, and even the rest of the day as he fell back to ride behind them. Just so he could stare at her, she thought, holding tight to her prince.
She had to be more careful. If the wrong thread of their story pulled, it could all unravel and ruin Kirin’s future.
As they neared the capital city, they passed more and more people heading their same direction, all of whom moved off the road for the army to have right of way: itinerant workers traveling south toward later harvests, merchants with ox-driven wagons of goods to sell, pilgrims, tax collectors, and richer folk heading to the city for autumn spirit festivals and family reunions.
Kirin did not hide his presence, sometimes nodding to the crowds arrayed on the road banks, keeping himself neutral, but sometimes flashing that dark smile. Every day Shine powdered and painted his face and helped him wrap his hair into a martial topknot, smooth and tight. She did her best not to engage with anyone, only practicing her aether-sight or pulling gently on a breeze that floated past them. She missed the camaraderie of her trip north with Sky alone, despite how anxious they’d both been about Kirin, and she missed the easy way between the three of them as they slipped down the Selegan River. She missed that dragon too.
Shine hated hiding so much of herself, which was bizarre since she’d been hiding her entire life. The difference, she realized, was that before she’d not thought there was much to her to keep secret. Now she had a secret the size of a mountain.
She wanted to ask Kirin if this was how he’d felt all his life.
It was raining when they arrived at the red gates of the capital city. Not too hard, but enough to wash everything gray and dismal. Shine told Kirin a joke about the Queens of Heaven wishing them back to the Fifth Mountain. The prince smiled darkly and tugged the rim of his cowl closer over his face to protect the makeup. Shine wore no such cloak, preferring the feel of the rain prickling her scalp and dragging her hair against her neck.
She thought of the Selegan River and promised herself to reach the sorceress tonight and ask after them.
The Warriors of the Last Means escorted them beneath the walls and into the city proper, and when Kirin saw people peering through the slats in their shutters and pushing open garden gates to watch, he threw his hood back and let the rain pour over him. It washed the powder away quickly, and Kirin waved with one hand, tending to the black paint slowly slipping down his cheeks with the other.
Shine held on to Kirin, keeping his back warm at least, and looked at the people of the capital without smiling. She was a ferocious sorceress, a bodyguard like Sky, and should make a demon face—she should have painted one on, though it would be melting now too.
“Kirin!” the crowd called, and “The prince!” as more and more gathered, holding up canvas shades and oiled umbrellas painted like flowers. They waved, and Kirin yelled, “How good it is to be home! The sky itself refreshes the city for my return!”
A young woman darted out, offering an umbrella. Kirin ordered the warriors back and let her approach. The rain flattened her brown hair to her forehead, but she smiled happily at Kirin, and he winked when he accepted her gift.
With a flourish, he raised the umbrella—it was violet and blue, dotted with pink and yellow daisy chains—and held it over his head and Shine’s. She finally smiled a little bit. The young woman was drawn back by her family, and Kirin rode on. His grip on the umbrella did not waver for the entire ride along the spiraling road to the palace.
They’d spoken briefly last night, heads together at the fire, and Kirin had confessed the return would be the worst part. What if his mother did not believe he was himself? Could Shine convince her? What if the great demon did decide to reject Kirin? Would it not wait for the investiture, but turn on him the moment they crossed the threshold?
Shine had gripped his hand and said, “I will protect you from a measly great demon who never does anything but roll over and complain about itches!”
Kirin had laughed hoarsely, eyes bright with anxiety.
“And,” Shine continued, “if the worst happens, you and Sky will go with me to the sorceress and we’ll build a cottage next to the mirror lake!”
The prince had avoided her eyes then, and Shine assumed it was because he was embarrassed to long for such a thing, even for only a moment.
Their party arrived at the palace bedraggled. The high lacquered black wall of the seventh circle loomed, capped by red-and-white arrow-shaped spikes, between which warriors stood guard. Rain tapped on the lacquered helmets and leather shoulder pieces.
Shine reached up and brushed the bare skin at the nape of Kirin’s neck. It was damp and cold, but he nodded once, slightly. This was the first moment he feared.
They paraded under the long gates, and Shine reached for the tunnel wall to tickle the great demon, but she could not quite touch it. The tunnel led into the wide stone garden. Here the dreary rain had kept courtiers and residents of these lower circles inside. Servants dashed across the gravel to take the horses, leading them to cover near the barracks. Kirin and Shine were surrounded, nearly pulled off the yellow-milk horse.
The moment her foot touched the gravel, a roar erupted from the very walls of the palace.
Every warrior reacted by getting a weapon in their hand, and the horses screamed, tugging to be freed. Immli the witch drew his wand and his mouse demon vanished. Sky grabbed Kirin’s shoulders, pulling him into a crouch half beneath Sky, while the bodyguard looked all around for danger.
But Shine knew.
It was the great demon of the palace.
She threw herself toward the red-washed wall, slapping her palms flat. Power stripped across her flesh, and she cried out, sinking to her knees with a scream. It would not reject her prince! She would rather destroy it!
“Nothing!” someone yelled—Sky—and then Kirin said, “Shine!” and his hands were on her shoulders. “Night Shine,” he commanded in her ear, chest pressed to her back.
“Demon,” she said, throat raw.
Kirin pulled at her, but she shook her head, rolling her shoulders through the thick strokes of pain.
The world roared again.
what are You?
The voice drummed hard and low through the courtyard.
It wasn’t rejecting Kirin; it was after Shine.
“Great demon of the Palace of Seven Circles,” she said, and she leaned forward, though every hot, fiery piece of her demanded she flee. She kissed the wall. “Demon, I was your friend,” she murmured. “I am not here to take anything. I… Please. I used to tickle your walls with my fast fingers and tripping toes. I promised when I came home that we would fix the patch in your roof that aches when it rains.”
Nothing where is Nothing You are not Nothing You are Something.
“Night Shine,” she said. “My name is Night Shine. I left and found my old house, great demon. This is my new house. I was Nothing, but now I am full of stars and the rainbow colors in between them. Night Shine.”
The pain faded. Shine did not move her raw, hot hands.
Night Shine. Night. Shine.
“Yes.”
A cry of alarm from behind her made Kirin move, and she did too.
Turning slowly on fever-aching bones, Shine looked up from her knees at a living shadow. It was spiky, vaguely person-shaped, with rippling wings the size and sharpness of spruce trees. It filled the rock garden, dark and shifting even as it held perfectly still. Then it crouched, leaning toward Shine. Seven eyes whirled blue-black-violet, round as seven moons, and it opened a jagged mouth above those eyes, tasting the air with seven tongues.
Shine tried to take calm breaths, but she tasted it too: lightning-strike, burned hair, very old, overripe blackberries.
“May I stay?” she asked it. “I was your friend and would be again. This was my home, and your prince—this prince who one day will rule this house—is my friend. Do you know him?”
The shadowy figure flicked six of its
seven eyes at Kirin, holding her with that one.
stay but do not take, it said in seven voices layered like a chorus of children. for the dark smile.
“I will not take from you, or yours,” Shine promised. “For Kirin.”
The great demon of the palace flicked its tongues and set long arms down, wicked claws digging into the pink gravel.
“You know me,” she reminded it.
if I must, I will fight You for Your true name. do not make Me.
“I promise,” she said, standing on rickety knees. She held out a hand, palm up.
The demon leaned its large head down and tasted her skin, two tongues curling around her fingers. It breathed hot over her wrist, slithering up to pool in her elbow.
Shine was unafraid, and amazed at herself for it. She smiled.
Then the demon shrieked in her face, accept, and blasted apart in shards of black and purple glass that skittered and burst but did not hurt anyone. They clinked to the gravel and shattered anew on boulders, passing harmlessly through flesh.
Shine remained breathless and smiling.
Kirin reached her first. He grinned. “I’ve never seen it before! Only heard. I don’t think anyone has seen our great demon in two generations!”
Sky glared at her.
Shine resisted smarting off to him, but barely. She’d done just fine! And Kirin had passed whatever first test he’d feared when the great demon looked at him and did not reject him.
The captain of the Warriors of the Last Means asked if Kirin was well. His face beneath his helmet was flushed a rich copper, but his expression remained solid. He did not look at Shine.
Well. She was used to being ignored, just not because she had power. It felt excellent.
“I am more than well,” Kirin said. “My new sorceress and I are welcomed back with quite the fanfare.” His words would hopefully plant seeds in the inevitable rumors to angle them his way. Kirin realized he still had the gifted umbrella shoved into his sash and tossed it to one of the palace attendants. He ordered that it be taken to his rooms.
Immli held his tiny demon mouse in his hand, cupped against his stomach for comfort, and watched Shine with too much speculation.
Night Shine Page 25