Girls of Paper and Fire

by Natasha Ngan

  Wren ducks a blow. Naja recovers quickly, and this time her elbow catches Wren in the side, causing her to stumble.

  “Bitch,” Wren pants.

  Naja laughs. “Manners, Paper whore.” But I catch her barely veiled awed look again as she appraises Wren’s unnatural appearance.

  In the time it takes for the fox to hesitate, Wren strikes out. One of her swords catches Naja’s shoulder. Blood spurts in an arc, staining her snow-white fur. Hissing, she lashes out, her heel cracking across Wren’s jaw, making her head snap round and drawing a spurt of red, the crunch of bone.

  The two of them drop back into defensive stances, chests heaving. Wren swipes a sleeve across her mouth.

  Then Naja looks to me. Her eyes widen. “Watch out!” she yells.

  Wren pivots to look, lowering her swords a fraction—and opening up space for Naja to attack.

  But I saw what the fox was planning a second before she acts. As Naja kicks off her back feet, I lunge to intercept. We collide with a crunch. Pain screams through me as my broken rib is crushed even more, the gashes in my shoulders ripping open. I throw a punch, but it’s weak and she overpowers me in a second. Tosses me aside. She swings an arm back, clawlike fingers aiming for my throat—

  “Wren! Lei!”

  Naja falters as Kenzo bounds into view.

  He moves fast on his muscled wolf haunches. He’s gripping a bamboo stick sideways in both hands. Its ends drip with blood.

  “Go!” he roars. “There’s no time!”

  Naja’s face is wild. “Keeda-lover!” she spits.

  She starts upon him in a whir of kicks and claw swipes. Kenzo holds her off with his staff, his powerful wolf haunches digging into the earth as she pushes him back.

  “Go!” he shouts at us again.

  Wren hesitates, her eyes slipping back to their normal brown. “But—”

  “Now!”

  She stows her swords and grabs my hand. As she pulls me away, I look back over my shoulder and catch one last glimpse of the King’s body sprawled upon the bloody grass. He looks strangely small. His limbs are thrown out at his sides, as if he’d fallen over from too much sake. At his neck, the knife juts, sticking up where I left it, and a ragged exhale escapes my lips.

  It’s over. It is done.

  I did it.

  The King is dead.

  Wren leads me in the direction of the Floating Hall, the growls and thuds of Naja and Kenzo’s fight fading behind us. As the trees start to thin, the hall comes into full view. It’s utterly consumed by flames, a glowing dome of gold. Heat blazes off it. The noise is a living thing, full with electric crackling. From under it come the sounds of battle; metallic clash and hoof thunder, screams and yelling. Flecks of burning ash drift through the air, like the opposite of snow.

  This is it, then. Master Takeo’s prediction. A night of smoke and flames, the palace destroyed from the inside out by a girl with fire in her veins.

  “What happened?” I call out to Wren as we run.

  “Our cover was blown,” she shouts back. Her hair whips behind her. “Someone must have given us away. You got to the King just in time.” She squeezes my hand. “You did it, Lei. You killed him.”

  I almost trip. “But now the court knows who was involved! Everything you were working for, the care you all took to keep it secret—”

  “We’ll worry about that later.”

  “And why are you even here? You shouldn’t have come back, Wren. You shouldn’t have risked it.”

  “Of course I came back. I had to make sure you were safe.”

  When we reach the edge of the gardens, the ground shifts from loamy earth to a hard stone path. We’re right by the hall now. Underneath, the lake glows from the blaze above. Its surface fissures with ripples—the fish are jumping, stirred by the heat. There are bodies in the water, and I cast a terrified eye over them, praying that none of them belong to Baba or Tien.

  My stomach jolts. Kenzo promised to keep them safe. But how can he protect them when he’s fighting with Naja?

  “My father,” I choke. “Tien—”

  “They’re being looked after,” Wren promises.

  Slowing, she leads us around to the east side of the lake. I’m finally able to breathe somewhat normally, though now that the shock is wearing off, pain replaces it. My wounds from the King’s and Naja’s attacks burn and throb. They’re hurting more with every step, but I grind my teeth together, determined not to show it.

  “How are we getting away?” I ask.

  Wren looks round, firelight sliding across her face. “The same way I got here so quickly. Wings.”

  With a tug on my arm, she pulls me off the path and into the undergrowth. We swipe away the tangled branches. The ground is uneven, clumped with roots. I focus on my steps, trying not to trip.

  I hear the demon before I see him: the deep rumble of giant lungs. Wren calls out, and a croaky voice answers.

  “Did you find her?”

  “Yes,” she replies as we emerge into a dappled grove. “Merrin—meet Lei.”

  Wind tugs the furled petals of flowers from the magnolia trees lining the clearing, a whirling flurry of pink and white. Some of the leaves catch on the dusky pewter feathers of the huge bird demon rising to greet us. He is an owl-form, far larger than any demon I have seen, with an intelligent face—beaked owl features molded with human—and keen orange eyes. Like Madam Himura’s, his arms are long and humanoid, rippling feathers wound over them and fluting out at the edges in the weird hybrid wings that all bird-forms share. He has his elbows cocked, his wings only extending halfway in the small grove, but still their span is impressive. Each feather is tipped with black. Power thrums from him, and as we approach he stands a little taller, the pierce of his eyes making me falter.

  “Merrin?” I say.

  He gives me a mock bow. “At your service, lovely. But I’m afraid we have to hurry the introductions.” His head tilts, listening. “Someone’s coming, and I doubt it’s a welcoming committee.”

  He dips a wing to the ground. Wren leads me up along it and onto his back. I try to move lightly; his feathers are soft, downy-light.

  Merrin laughs, a rattling sound at the back of his throat. “No need to be so gentle, sweetheart. I’ve caught mice for dinner heavier than you.”

  Behind me, Wren tucks her legs alongside mine and leans forward, gripping the back of Merrin’s feathered neck. “Ready?”

  Before I can answer, we jerk back.

  There are shouts, thudding footsteps.

  A blaze of arrows cut through the air.

  “Hold on!” Wren yells, pinning me down as Merrin kicks off the ground so powerfully the shudder in his muscles ripples through my own.

  We lift into the air, the forest rushing past. A second volley of arrows fly our way and Merrin careens sharply to the side to avoid them. An arrow tip grazes my cheek. He banks. One wingtip brushes the treetops. He rolls a tight corner, then beats hard to gain height. In just a few seconds we are soaring high, the clouds just above our heads, a dark, silver-glazed belly.

  I’ve always wanted to fly, to know what it’s like to dance on the wind currents.

  The reality is nothing like I imagined. Merrin cuts fast through the air, the pounding of his winged arms rocking Wren and me, and I cling to his feathers, convinced I’m about to slide off his back at any second.

  Far below, the palace is a blaze of lights and fire. Relief washes over me, as fierce and radiant as a sunburst.

  We’re free.

  Then Wren cries out, “To the right!”

  My head whips round and I spot them—a group of Moon caste bird demons. There must be more than twenty. I make out the shape of hawk, crow, vulture, eagle. Of all the demon forms, bird castes are the most foreign-looking, with their unsettling blend of feathers and beaks with humanoid form, and to see so many now, winged arms spread wide, racks fear through me.

  They’re approaching fast, not weighed down by passengers. Though they aren’t
as large as Merrin, everything about these birds screams predator. Glowing yellow eyes. Beaked, hook-tipped maws. Armor is strapped to their bodies, their taloned feet fitted with blades.

  Merrin lets out a hiss. “Not these assholes.”

  “The Tsume!” Wren shouts in my ear. “The King’s elite bird warriors.”

  “And of course,” Merrin says, “they keep badgering me to join. How many times must an owl say no?” There’s a pause. “Sorry about this, girls,” he says, then tucks in his wings.

  We flip upside down—

  And plummet through the air.

  I scream as we hurtle toward the earth, wind lashing my face, my gut lurching. Tears stream down my frozen skin. The drop is so fast that one of my hands slips from where I’m clutching at Merrin’s feathers, and the wind tugs at me, trying to yank me away. With a twist of her arm, Wren grabs me. She digs her heels into Merrin’s sides, holding us down. The caws of the Tsume follow us.

  Ahead, the rooftops of the palace are getting closer, but Merrin doesn’t slow.

  “We’ll crash!” I yell.

  Neither Wren nor Merrin answers. I squeeze my eyelids shut; the last thing I see is the curved eaves of a temple roof hurtling toward us.

  Merrin pulls out of the dive without a second to spare.

  The movement is so sudden it almost jerks us from his back. Pain flares through my rib cage and shoulders. Wren and I grunt, our arms almost wrenched from their sockets, but we manage to cling on.

  Thuds, shrieks, the sound of wood shattering behind us. Some of the Tsume didn’t pull back in time.

  I risk a glance round and my pulse stutters.

  Some of them did.

  They speed toward us. The hawk at the head of the group lets out an ear-splitting caw. He gains on us in seconds and slashes out with a metal-tipped talon, the blade catching Merrin’s flank. He cries, dropping suddenly, but then he rights himself and takes a sharp turn, weaving between the rooftops.

  The hawk follows. Smaller and lighter than Merrin and the rest of the birds, he gains on us quickly again, this time drawing up beside us. Garnet eyes glitter from under a hooded bronze battle helmet that wraps his upper face and covers the top of his short beak-nose, tapering to a sharp hook.

  “Shame on you, brother,” he says, his voice a high-pitched croak. “Letting Papers ride you.”

  Merrin shoots a quick look over his shoulder as Wren reaches back to draw one of her swords. “At least I’m not wearing that ridiculous hat.”

  The hawk hisses. With a flap of his wings, he swerves towards us, lashing out with his metal-hooked beak. Wren is ready for him. Still clinging on to Merrin’s feathers with one hand, she arcs her other arm toward him, blade flashing. The sword catches the hawk across his helmet with a metallic crash. He squawks in surprise, faltering, just as we take a sharp turn.

  There’s a sickening crunch. I look round to see the hawk tumbling down the side of the tall temple pillar we managed to avoid.

  Merrin flies between the rooftops, the palace a blur of shapes and colors. The perimeter wall rears up ahead. We fly straight for it. Again, Merrin turns at the last second. The bird demons following us hit the black rock at full speed, the sound of their necks snapping loud as a whip crack. Twisting round to look, I see the huge crow pull up just in time—though judging by the way he lands sprawling on the top of the wall, clutching a winged arm across his torso, he damaged one of his shoulders.

  He lets out a furious shriek as he watches us fly on.

  Below, the landscape changes to the shadowed stretch of bamboo forest. Darkness falls as the lights of the palace recede. Merrin keeps close to the treetops, but as time passes and no more of the Tsume come for us, he spreads his wings wide and takes us up into the clouds.

  “Oh, dear,” he says when there’s nothing around us but white mist and eerie silence. “They’ll only want me even more after that.”

  I let out a shaky laugh. My skin feels raw, lashed by the wind. The air is wet up here in the clouds. Beads of water cling to my body, making me suddenly aware that I’m still just in my thin dancing slip, though the gold fabric is soaked through with red: my own blood, and the King’s.

  “Is this a good time to wish you a happy birthday?” Wren asks, and I laugh again. She lowers her lips close to my ear. “You have it with you, right?” she asks, serious this time.

  I know immediately what she’s referring to. “Yes,” I reply.

  She plants a kiss on my cheek. Her breath is hot on my frozen skin. “You can open it when we land.”

  I sense the pull of my necklace, suddenly heavy where it’s hanging, exposed, over my collarbones and swinging with Merrin’s wing beats. All these years waiting for this day, waiting to discover the word—the future, the world—my Birth-blessing pendant contains for me. But now, flying through a sky that tastes like ash and endings, I’m not sure I want to know anymore.

  We were meant to escape the palace quietly. Instead, the Hannos and their alliances have been exposed.

  There is no doubt about it. A war is coming.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  MERRIN FLIES ON UNTIL WE ARE far from the palace. The night is starless, snow clouds thick above. The air tastes like ice. Below: a carpet of darkness. There are no settlements here, or at least any that I can see. Wren tells me we’re to the northeast of the palace, in the foothills of the mountains bordering Han and Rain—the infamous Kono Pass, impassable even by flight because of the turbulent currents and jagged peaks. We’ll stay at a hideout tonight before leaving for the Hannos’ fort in Ang-Khen tomorrow.

  Or at least, that was the plan.

  “We’ll send a message to my father as soon as we can,” Wren says as Merrin begins to lose altitude. “Ask him what we should do. I doubt our home is safe anymore, or any of our holdings. The ones the court knows about, anyway.”

  “Could you ask him about my father and Tien, too?”

  “Of course. I’ll make it one of his priorities. I’m sure they are safe, Lei.”

  My stomach is hollow. “The court know Kenzo is working with your father now. That he’s been plotting against the King. He won’t be able to take over the council.”

  Wren’s voice is hard. “Not if he killed Naja.”

  I picture the fox female’s wild eyes, her relentless energy. Somehow I can’t imagine her allowing herself to lose. At the same time, I can’t imagine Kenzo losing, either. The warmth of his fur as he carried me from the King’s chambers comes back to me, the safe feel of his muscled arms and his smell, deep and almost sweet, like wind-stirred grass.

  He’d better win. Not just for us, but for what Naja did to Zelle.

  “She killed her.” The words choke in my mouth and I have to clear my throat before I continue, “Naja. She killed Zelle.”

  “I know,” Wren replies quietly. “I saw her body.”

  “She was kind to me,” I murmur, my eyes blurring. “When I was scared, that first time before going to the King. And when I snuck into Mistress Azami’s room. And at the end. The King was about to kill me. She saved me. But I couldn’t save her.”

  I push my face into Merrin’s feathered neck, tears sliding down my frozen cheeks.

  The screeches of animal calls rise as we approach the forest. Merrin flies low. It’s difficult to make out much in the blackness, but soon he shifts course, wings canted back to catch the air, and after a few wide, slow circles he brings us down through the treetops into a clearing, where we land with surprising lightness. He lets out a caw. As if in answer, lights spark into flame in the near distance. Through the matted vegetation, they illuminate the hulking silhouette of an abandoned temple, half of it seeming to be carved out of the very mountain itself. There’s the glimmer of water from a lake stretching out to one side.

  Wren and I climb down from Merrin’s back. I stagger sideways as my feet hit land. It still feels like I’m listing from side to side, and every part of my body aches from clinging so tightly to his feathers. More of me is hurting
than not, but I hold myself upright, forcing a grim smile when Wren tries to help me.

  “I’m all right,” I say. “Honestly.”

  With a throaty purr, Merrin shakes himself, stretching his arms wide. The feathers wrapping them flutter before half of them fold back down, lying flat over his arms so his wings are only half the size they were before.

  “I take it back, lovelies. You’re definitely heavier than mice. Palace food has spoiled you. I hope you brought some with you?” he adds hopefully.

  “Actually,” Wren says, “we should have. I’m not sure how long we’ll have to hide out here.”

  “I think you’re forgetting we’re an elite pack of warriors,” Merrin replies. “Hunting won’t be a problem.”

  “I’m not a warrior,” I say.

  “Sweet girl,” he replies, head swiveling in my direction, “you killed the King. You’re the most warrior of us all.” His beaked mouth lifts in a grin. “Besides, are you sure you aren’t part demon? I guess you haven’t had time to look in a mirror, what with all the assassinating and mortal danger and whatnot, but whatever those fools at the palace put on your eyes earlier has smudged.” He flaps an arm. “You’re looking a little… panda-form.”

  Before I can thank him for his kind assessment, the sound of footsteps makes us look round. Three figures emerge from the shadows of the foliage. Their lanterns cast an amber glow on their faces. One is a human boy, Paper caste, with a narrow face, a worried slant to his soot-black eyes. The other two are wiry Moon caste leopard demons—siblings even, judging from their appearance, and not much older than Wren and me. They approach in a feline prowl, tails flicking behind them. Their spotted heads are similar, with short, black-lined snouts and round ears beaded with piercings.

  “Wren! Merrin!” shouts the female leopard, breaking into a loping run. She squeezes Wren before looping her arms round Merrin’s neck. “You’re late! We were so worried.”

  “I hope your lateness isn’t a sign that things didn’t go smoothly?” asks her brother.