Carefully, she dropped herself through the ceiling and landed in a crouch. “I’m right here,” she spat. She shook her hair to dislodge dust or musty muck. “You liar,” she said, straightening up to face Kirin.
“Shine,” he said, reaching for her.
“Stop. Don’t touch me. Tell me what you did.” She jutted out her chin, trying not to shiver.
Sky said, “Shine, just listen and calm down.”
“Kirin!” she cried, anguished.
He let his hands fall to his sides. He was beautiful and elegant in a lush red-and-pink robe, tied with black and embroidered with thorns in the same. Three red earrings said he was having a good day, happily between prince and maiden. It curdled Shine’s stomach. He didn’t deserve any good days. Especially not today. “It will be quick,” Kirin said. “The sorceress is weak.”
“Because I came home with you!” she said wildly. “Because I left her! And I begged her not to take another heart and she agreed to wait for me—so I could be here with you! How could you do this? She was—”
“A killer!” Kirin looked at her with angry pity. “She is a killer, and dangerous, and must be removed from the field.”
“You only say that because she knows what you are,” Shine hissed.
The prince snapped his mouth closed. His honey eyes narrowed. “I say that because she is a murderer and kidnapped me. She nearly took everything from me—and has already taken you. You would forgive her so easily? You aren’t supposed to care this much about her.”
“Not supposed to care? I…” The look in Kirin’s eyes flipped Shine from icy darkness into horrible, scorching sunlight. “What did you do?” she demanded.
He said, coolly, “I commanded you to stop caring for her. By your name.”
“No,” she breathed out her shock.
Sky said, “Kirin,” with outright horror.
But Shine stared through her prince. She remembered feeling diminished. As if the farther she traveled from the Fifth Mountain, the less she became. Until she gave herself a new name. The half-a-heart feeling, the strangeness of longing for the sorceress but not understanding why. The… exhilaration she couldn’t explain.
Kirin still did not try to defend himself. He probably did not think he required defending. Cool and sure as a god.
Sun-Bright crossed his arms. He was tall like his son, and lean, with honey-brown eyes, but his skin darker, face more square, his lips less pretty. He said, “Night Shine, if you are a loyal servant of the Moon, sit down and end this fit before I call my warriors.”
Shine ignored the First Consort and said softly to the prince, “You were supposed to trust me. Like I trusted you.”
Kirin flinched.
“I’ll never forgive you,” she added, because he deserved it. Her ears filled with the song of rushing blood.
Sky said, “Warn her.”
Shine’s hands flew to her sleeve, and she dug out the final bite of pear. Backing away, she glared at Kirin. “Don’t stop me,” and she put the whole thing in her mouth, chewed once, and swallowed it down.
FORTY-FOUR
SHINE OPENED HER EYES at the mirror lake.
It was perfect. Clear blue skies, a ruffling cold wind, and the lake a wide drop of heaven glittering like diamonds. The alders bent as if they said hello to Shine.
The sorceress lay in crushed purple flowers, near the shore, one hand flung out and her fingers trailing in the water. Sun sprites slept in her hair, like gently breathing combs.
“Sorceress?” Shine ran for her, grass slapping her ankles. The sorceress didn’t move. Her monstrous-perfect eyes were closed, her lips parted a little bit, revealing a sliver of blackness inside.
“She’s dying,” said Insistent Tide. The old woman crouched beside the first alder, wrapped in several wool blankets. Her gray hair was loose and flowed around her like a storm cloud.
“No,” Shine said. “She can’t be. She promised she’d be well until I came back. She could hold it together.”
Insistent Tide shrugged. “If you say so.”
Shine fell to her knees at the sorceress’s shoulder. “Sorceress,” she cried. “Wake up!” She touched her cheek, then hit her chest. The dawn sprites squeaked and fled in a flurry of light. Shine leaned over and kissed the sorceress’s dry lips. She pressed down, kissed again and again, taking the sorceress’s face in both hands. She breathed, sucking air from the sorceress’s mouth. She tasted like pine resin, a sharp, wicked flavor. Almost like poison.
“The heart died weeks ago,” said Insistent Tide. “Days after you left. She’s been holding it alone.”
Horror tingled under Shine’s skin, hot and cold and hot, and she felt like her ears needed to pop. “Sorceress.”
“Night Shine?” the sorceress whispered. Her lashes fluttered. When she opened her eyes, they were only slits: one terrible sickly green like rot, one gray-white and fuzzed like bread mold.
“You have to wake up,” Shine said. “They’re coming. You have to hold on. The army is coming, and sorcerers, too. Please!”
The sorceress lifted her hand and skimmed her black nails against Shine’s cheek. “I can’t. I can’t even change myself.”
Some of her hair had fallen out, settling in curls around her skull, a nest of lava-red and black snakes. Her lips were cracking. She was smaller, older, skinny to the bone.
“Where are your feathers?” Shine begged. “Your shark’s teeth and your vicious heart?”
“I love you,” the sorceress said. “What you are now.”
Shine’s tears plopped onto the sorceress’s forehead, dissipating like smoke. They weren’t quite real. This was a spell. The pear didn’t make real tears.
“Strong, surprising,” the sorceress added.
“I have more surprises,” Shine said fiercely, and grabbed the sorceress by the shoulders.
She shoved life into her, though she’d taken it first from nowhere. Shine pushed power, this life, her own life, into the sorceress.
The sorceress’s eyes flashed open. “Shine!” she cried. Her back bowed and she scrabbled at Shine’s arms.
“Get up, secure the mountain, and wait for me!” Shine cried. She clenched her jaw and hissed at the effort of pouring life into the sorceress.
She felt the pear stop a split second before she opened her eyes in the First Consort’s chamber.
Kirin stared at her, haggard, held back from her by his father’s arms. They were sprawled on the floor, as if blown away from her. Warriors poured in, weapons drawn, and Sky grabbed Shine’s face.
“You’re back,” the demon-kissed warrior said. “You were gone, and Kirin was holding you, and he just started…” Sky shook his head.
Shine sucked in a huge breath. He’d been touching her, and she’d been siphoning life for the sorceress. The binding net was gone, and she felt so good.
Before she could speak, the great demon of the palace hissed loud enough for everyone to hear.
You shall not harm My things!
“I have to go,” Shine said, struggling to her feet. She used Sky, who helped her.
First Consort Sun-Bright snapped, “Stop her.”
The palace rumbled with the demon’s displeasure, and Shine tried to think of something to do to fix everything. Her mind spiraled with thoughts and images and her blood was a loud roar still. She could take power and escape, maybe just enough from the great demon to get ahead of it. And… and what? She let go of Sky, stepped away to distance herself for whatever she was about to do. At least seven warriors were inside with them, weapons ready, and the demon thickened the air, making it difficult to breathe.
Its head appeared, with seven bluish moon-eyes and a mouth with seven tongues: it hovered above Kirin.
Shine took a breath. She had to try.
I will annihilate You.
But Kirin said, “No, wait, Great Moon.”
All eyes snapped to him.
The prince swallowed. “Let her go.”
Nobody moved. Su
n-Bright said, “Kirin.”
Kirin sat up. He stared only at Shine. His look was intense, his mouth bent crookedly but could not be called a smile.
Shine glared back, feeling the rage of her volcanic heart boiling up, turning her skin translucent, her blood lightning white.
“Let her go, I said.” Kirin held her gaze. “She is not my prisoner, and never has been. It is her choice—your choice.”
The First Consort did not argue again, and Shine did not wait for another chance.
She barely glanced at Sky, whose frown was so anxious, it had no place on his strong, demon-kissed face.
Shine ran, out into the corridor, shoving past warriors and courtiers. She heard a surprised squeak maybe from Second Consort Love-Eyes, and low in her skull, thrumming like a force more than a voice, the great demon growled and growled.
She was not welcome here. Good—she needed to leave. But there was no fast way.
The army was there, at the Fifth Mountain, now. And those cruel sorcerers! Even if Shine had fed the sorceress enough power to get up, to close any doors, there was no way that without a heart the sorceress could hold the army off for the days or weeks it would take Shine to arrive. She didn’t know how to sprout wings! Would The Scale help her?
She couldn’t ask them: she didn’t know how.
Shine pushed out onto a balcony and turned around, climbing the outside of the second circle wall. The corner was blocks of heavy dark stone, and there she found the grips she needed. She dragged up onto the next level: the first circle of the palace was all red-washed, but there were spirit statues and rain catchers she could use.
This was the first time she had climbed the outside of the palace instead of its guts and bones.
Sunlight glinted off the jeweled eyes of the spirit shrines. Their open mouths gaped, dry without rain. The air smelled cool and sunny, with none of the city scents, none of the palace. Her own breath was as loud as the wind.
Night Shine strained, pulling hard up and up, all the way to the peak of the highest slant roof of the first circle. Five spirit statues crowned it: eagle, bear, dolphin, lion, bat-winged demon. She knew their names, but she ignored them. Wind hit her, pulling at her hair and tunic, but she clung tight. Her fingers ached, scraped raw, and her toes, too. But she was strong.
She grabbed the horn of the demon statue and swung behind it, standing in its minimal shelter. It was shorter than her, but broader. Folded wings pointed up and cast shadows back upon her. This one faced northwest. That was the way to the Fifth Mountain.
If Shine threw herself off the roof, if she died, she would be fully a demon again.
It was that simple.
She swallowed terror. There was no other way. A demon needed its house, and without her body, she could snap home to the mountain. Inhabit it again, give the sorceress all her might, and together they could drive off the army. Together they could drive off anything.
She’d died before. She’d been many things. It was all right to change again. That’s all death was. She hoped.
Shine stared out over the layers of the palace and the city beyond. It was beautiful. A mountain, too, but not her mountain. Red-and-white walls and roofs, curving roads, movement of people and wagons like tiny fish in a huge garden pond. Beyond it, the Way of King-Trees drove north and to the east went the Sunrise Crown Road. Dark-green rain forest pressed down in narrow scoops, set between rolling golden fields and the scarlet fields of redpop. Dots of villages. Smoke drifting up. And the horizon was all rain forest.
Threads of blue light pulled down from the northwest, running toward the city and around it on the west, as the tiny fingers of the once-wide Selegan River reached for the ocean, miles of flat delta, and terraced fields to the south. So close she could imagine the bright line of that horizon was the broad gleam of deep water.
Did demons love beauty?
Did demons love?
Night Shine took a deep breath.
This was the only way. She climbed onto the demon statue’s back, gripping its wings. Her toes scraped on its tail. Her heart beat hard, but this was the fastest way, the surest.
She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes. Sunlight turned the black of her lids red, and she heard voices in the wind.
Shine stopped. She didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to be a demon again, alone, without a house. Without life.
But how could she love the sorceress and be unwilling to make this sacrifice?
Pressing her forehead to the rough marble, she held tight to the demon statue’s horns and thought: The sorceress had gone through so much to give her demon consort life. If she died, it had all been for nothing.
She laughed at the thought. For nothing.
She wasn’t nothing anymore.
When Night Shine opened her sticky eyes, the Selegan River caught her as it flashed brilliant silver in the sunlight.
“Selegan,” she said, and touched the tears smearing her cheeks.
FORTY-FIVE
IT TOOK AN HOUR to reach the river.
Too long.
Shine slid and climbed down through the innards of the palace as quickly as possible, but distance was distance, and the great demon refused to go still and make it easier. She fell twice, bruising her knees and her shoulder. She sliced open her palm on a loose nail and bit back a mean sneer at the territorial demon.
Once outside, she ran, but she didn’t know the fastest way through the city to the docks. She’d always taken meandering paths, dashing across walls and roofs. Shine tried to keep her course west, but the city was not laid out with straight lines and she kept curving north and north, having to switch back or find the sharpest left. The smell of fish and dank wood grew, and she followed it through a neighborhood of leaning taverns and past a market of fresh fish and mollusks and perishable goods from up and down river. She heard the river birds crying and the rough chant of sailors and burst out of an alley onto a narrow dock, nearly spilling off into the water.
Shine pressed her back to the wall. Her toes ached from the gravel roads and were caked with mud. She was a mess, a ragged doll. Below her several barges bobbed where they were tied to private piers, and south where the river deepened again were the ocean ships with their red sails tied down like cocoons. Shine peered over the edge of the dock. The tide was low, the water brackish here, between freshwater river and salty marsh. She didn’t know if the Selegan was strong enough to hear her.
But she had to try.
Scooping off the edge, she dug her toes into the rough, wet wooden pillar supporting the dock. She climbed slowly down, until she could see the muddy bottom of the river, several feet below the brownish water.
She pushed off, slamming into the river.
Shine turned and swam north, kicking hard. In the center of the river, she treaded water and tasted it. Not too salty. Muddy, churned. Unpleasant. Not like the clear, silver upriver water she’d flown through last month with the dragon.
“Selegan,” she said. She ducked underwater and called its name again, a muffled, bubbly sound. Selegan.
Then she dove forward, swimming as hard as she could. North, toward brighter water.
She rose for breath, careful to note where boats floated, careful to avoid them. But she didn’t care if she was seen and ignored a few startled cries. Let them think she was a spirit or a demon.
Her fingers numbed with the cold, but she clawed at the water. She could hear her heart loud in her ears, pulsing out and out from her body as if it could ring through the river.
Selegan, she cried.
When she emerged to breathe, she yelled with her voice, “Selegan River, please! I need you.”
She treaded water in a thread of silvery current, where dark-gilled fish stared at her from just beneath the surface and there were no barges or fishing boats. Shine took a few deep breaths. Then she pulled on the life of the river.
It sucked into her in a gasp of power, and Shine trembled, losing her rhythm for a moment. She sank dow
n and hung there, suspended between life and dark depth. She opened her eyes, though they stung, and gently kicked, spreading her arms to hold herself in the deep. Selegan, I need you, she called. I can save your friend. I can save her. Let me save her!
She closed her eyes, feeling like the whole river was her tears.
If the dragon did not answer, she could still die here, mouth full of the river. Die and let her demon heart fly up the water road directly to the Fifth Mountain.
Shine’s body ached, and her chest burned. She had to breathe. She parted her lips and let the water slip inside. She thrashed and coughed, gulping, and human instinct shoved her up to the surface.
Scales touched her toes, pushing up, and Shine burst out of the river into the air.
She breathed, she choked, and tears poured down her cheeks along with snot and thin bile from her heaving stomach.
She collapsed onto coiling hard dragon flesh.
“Night Shine!” the Selegan River spirit hissed, shocked.
Shine wrapped her arms around its neck, white bone ridges shoving into her shoulder and chest. She hurt everywhere, but she held on. Her fingers dug into the feather beard. “Take me… Selegan, take me home. I will save her. As fast—as fast as you can.”
“Hold on, Night Shine,” the dragon said, and with a shudder of power it unfurled its wings and shot into the sky.
FORTY-SIX
THE DRAGON FLEW HARD and fast as wind. Shine clung to it with body and will, gritting her teeth and imagining herself smoke and fire. They tore through the sky, leaving tatters of themselves behind, little smoke butterflies and falling leaves and feathers of flame.
Her heart pulsed hard and she focused on it because she couldn’t see through the shredding wind or hear the dragon. There was only blood and air and desperation.
Shine did not let herself think the sorceress had already died, had failed, that she hadn’t stood up with Shine’s gift of power to secure the mountain against the army.
Night Shine Page 29