by Evelyn Skye
The ryuu took several steps closer. “You’re one of the new recruits? Aren’t you supposed to be training with the rest of them on the main deck?”
Daemon smiled. “I was, and it was incredible. I can’t believe what we can do with this new magic, and I was disappointed when I was ordered to head down to the galley to begin cooking dinner. Hey, do you think you could take my galley shift instead, so that I could go back to training?”
The ryuu snorted but also retreated toward the ladder. “One of the benefits of having fresh blood is that recruits like you can take over cleaning the head and sweating in that cramped galley, so the rest of us don’t have to anymore. But you won’t be able to get the prince’s dinner order right now. He’s a deck up, examining the weapons we collected from Kaede City and brought on board.”
“Oh, thank you,” Daemon said. “Otherwise, I’d be standing here knocking for ages like a fool.”
The ryuu snorted again, then climbed down the ladder, going below to wherever he’d been headed in the first place.
Stars, that was close. Daemon leaned against the wall and took several long breaths until his heart dislodged from his throat and slid back where it belonged in his chest.
The good news, however, was that Prince Gin wasn’t in the captain’s quarters. Daemon slipped inside.
Flickering, palm-sized spheres floated near the ceiling, lighting the room with their soft glow. A spartan futon took up one of the far corners of the room, its sheets crisp, as if untouched since they were laundered, and a thin blanket—folded at precise angles—lay at the foot of the bed. Daemon chewed on his lip, disappointed. He’d thought that a man claiming to be the rightful emperor would have more luxurious quarters.
There was also nothing that looked like they might be plans. No notebooks or scrolls, only a desk with a completely bare surface. Double disappointment.
Then Daemon noticed the lock on the front of the desk, and he grinned. “I bet you I know what I’ll find in there.”
He pulled a series of small, slender tools from one of the hidden pockets in his tunic. There were two essentials that taigas never left home without: weapons and lock picks. It didn’t matter that he was wearing a ryuu uniform. Daemon had made sure to transfer his throwing stars, knives, and picks as soon as he’d tied on the green ryuu belt.
It took him only a second to assess the lock and another second to slip the necessary tools into the keyhole. He listened carefully as he shifted the curtain pick and moved each of the tumblers one by one.
There was a click and a satisfying give. Daemon didn’t smile, though. Being able to break into a lock like this was expected of apprentices as early as Level 4.
He opened the drawer and . . . there was nothing in it.
Daemon ran his fingers over the bottom of the drawer, but it was perfectly smooth. He slid his hands into the back corners of the drawer, feeling for anything out of the ordinary but finding only wood and an abandoned stopper to an inkwell that had dried up and been discarded long ago.
Hmm. It was possible that it really was empty. But why would Prince Gin bother locking his desk then?
No, there had to be something inside. Daemon knelt down so the drawer was at eye level. He retrieved a small metal pellet—scatter shot, a new, discreet kind of throwing weapon that one of the taiga weapon masters was testing—and placed it on the right side of the drawer. It rolled toward the front.
But the ship was rocking from side to side.
If there was a false bottom on the drawer, its contents could be pushing up on the panel unevenly, hence the pellet rolling forward. Since there was no obvious release switch, though, maybe this one was pressure-mounted.
Daemon placed his palms flat against the bottom of the drawer and pushed down gently.
It gave a little, then lifted up with a tidy pop.
Cheers to me, he thought.
There was, indeed, a pile of papers tall enough to cause the unevenness in the false bottom of the drawer. Daemon flipped through them. They appeared to be profiles of each ryuu: height, weight, age, and most important, details about their “specialty.”
Tidepool could command the sea.
Insects responded to Beetle.
Firebrand was the orb of flames.
For all that is good and holy . . . Daemon felt ill and had to hold on to the desk for a minute, but it wasn’t from seasickness. Skimming ryuu profile after ryuu profile hammered home the fact that if the Dragon Prince were allowed to build his army even bigger, they would be virtually invincible.
A warrior who could grow ice.
One whose hands became powerful magnets to attract away enemy weapons.
Two who could break bones, just with their minds. Even when the bones were still inside a living person.
How did the taigas stand a chance?
Stay calm, Daemon thought. The Society needs this information, and I’m the only one that can get it to them. He couldn’t steal them right now, though. If Prince Gin checked—which he might, because he would have profiles to add for the new recruits—it would be too obvious if they were all gone.
But Daemon would come back later to get them. Sometime, somehow.
He set the profiles back into the desk and was about to replace the false bottom when his fingers grazed a ribbon on the underside of the panel. Puzzled, he flipped it over.
There was a large map of Kichona. Colored dots marked various points around the kingdom, each connected by a green ribbon, beginning at Isle of the Moon, then Paro Village, Sand Mine, Kaede City, and onward.
Were those Prince Gin’s targets?
He touched the map. Each colored dot had a corresponding number written on it.
Isle of the Moon, 5
Paro Village, 26
Sand Mine, 30
Kaede City, 54
Tiger’s Belly, 200
Striped Coves, 300
Lionshead Pass, 622
Gorudo Hills, 1,100
Red Harbor, 1,810
Toredo, 2,000
They were cities and other landmarks throughout Kichona, but what did the numbers mean? Daemon studied them some more.
He gasped. There had been five councilmembers at Isle of the Moon over Autumn Festival, when the typhoon hit. Twenty-six taigas had come from Paro Village. And he and Sora had seen fifty-some taigas hypnotized at Kaede City.
These must be the number of taigas posted at each target. The number of new ryuu that Prince Gin plans to recruit.
It dawned on Daemon that if the prince had been successful at Isle of the Moon, the rest of this list might have been moot. The Dragon Prince would have captured Glass Lady and the other councilmembers and made them his puppets. They would have been able to command the Society to overthrow Empress Aki, and then Prince Gin could seize the throne.
Daemon felt a wisp of relief.
But that quickly passed, because it only meant that Prince Gin had been forced to a backup plan—all these other targets around Kichona. It looked like he was starting at smaller outposts, which he could easily overwhelm with his existing ryuu. Then, as the ryuu ranks swelled, he would begin to take on bigger targets to grow his army and collection of Hearts even faster.
Other than that, though, the ribbon traced an unpredictable path around the kingdom, such that it would not only take the Society a little while to catch on to what he was doing but also make it impossible for the taigas to know where he would strike next.
Finally, the ribbon ended at the Imperial City. The Citadel and Rose Palace would be the biggest prizes of all.
“Stars. If we don’t stop him soon, he’ll have so much momentum and power, we’ll be as good as dead.” Daemon sank into Prince Gin’s chair. “We have to poison him and every ryuu on this ship. And we have to get the list of targets to the Citadel, just in case Sora and I fail.” Saying the plan out loud somehow made him feel better. It gave him a bit of confidence—however unjustified—in the face of this daunting enemy.
There was a kn
ock on the door.
Daemon jumped out of the chair. Then he hastily stuffed the false bottom of the drawer back in place, closed up the desk, and dove under the futon.
Gods dammit. His lock picks were still on the desk chair.
Whoever it was knocked again a minute later. Maybe this was the ryuu who had actually been sent to inquire of the Dragon Prince’s dinner preferences.
After no response, however, the person left. Daemon exhaled.
Time for me to go too. He’d lingered too long anyway. Prince Gin might come back any second.
Daemon grabbed his lock picks and slipped out the captain’s quarters door. He had just stepped back into the dark corner nearby when he saw legs descending the ladder. Daemon dove behind some boxes and buried himself beneath the coils of rope on the floor.
“Your Highness?” someone above said.
The prince stopped on the ladder. “What is it?”
“I was sent to ask what you would like for dinner.”
“Do we have fresh fish?”
“Yes, Tidepool swept up a section of ocean and had the waves deposit a school of mackerel for us.”
“I’ll have that then,” Prince Gin said. “Oh, and wine. Not just for me, but for everyone on the ship. You’ve all worked hard today. We deserve to celebrate.”
“Thank you, Your Highness!” the ryuu hurried off to report to the galley.
Daemon waited until the prince went inside his cabin. Then he ran for the ladder and scrambled several levels down to Sora in the bottom hold.
Their grumbling stomachs would have to wait.
Chapter Thirty
Fairy crawled through the narrow space beneath the floorboards of Warrior Meeting Hall. Broomstick followed, but he was bigger and had to scoot on his stomach, which made him lag behind.
“How did you even know this was here?” he whispered, even though they’d cast moth spells to keep from being overheard.
“My boys and I have use for secret nooks and spaces,” Fairy said.
Broomstick groaned.
She laughed.
But she quickly grew stern again. The Council was holding another meeting and Empress Aki was going to be in attendance. The apprentices had not been given any updates about the Isle of the Moon attacks, and even worse, Fairy and Broomstick hadn’t heard a thing about Spirit and Wolf. Broomstick had leveraged all his relationships in the office but learned nothing.
So Fairy had decided to take matters into her own hands and eavesdrop on the source.
The space beneath the Council Room was tighter than that below the rest of Warrior Meeting Hall, and Fairy also had to get onto her stomach. She used her arms to crawl forward, stopping every so often to blink away the dust puffing up from the dirt on the ground. Despite what she’d just told Broomstick, this was not one of the places she brought her boys; she’d tried it once and never again, because it really wasn’t much fun to mess around with someone when there wasn’t space to do said messing around.
Finally, she reached a pinprick of light that shone down through a minuscule hole in the floorboards.
“I barely fit here,” Broomstick said. “One less inch, and I’d be stuck like a cork in a bottle.”
“Good thing you passed on that second helping at dinner then,” she said.
“Ha-ha.” He punched her in the arm.
Above them, the Council filed in. The only reason Fairy knew that was because shadows passed over the tiny beam of light. Otherwise, there was no sound, because the councilmembers treaded so lightly, there were no footfalls.
A minute later, though, there was plenty to hear as Empress Aki arrived.
“Your Majesty.” It was followed by a pause as the councilmembers presumably bowed.
They settled back into their chairs.
“You have a report of your latest findings?” Empress Aki asked.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Glass Lady said. “I know you like to see all the details, so we’ve compiled summaries of the reports from each outpost, as well as the research our scholars have yielded thus far.” There was some shuffling of paper as she passed it across the table.
“As previously discussed, we are actively patrolling the seas and have increased the numbers of warriors on watch at every station around the kingdom. Ships and outposts send reports to the Citadel every twelve hours, rather than every twenty-four, as was the previous peacetime model. The most recent dragonflies from the navy this morning indicate nothing unusual in the seas—no unidentified ships or unusual weather. The reports from around the island are likewise—”
“Wait,” Empress Aki said. Papers rustled. “There still hasn’t been a dragonfly from Paro Village? And now Sand Mine and Kaede City have also failed to report.”
Beneath the floorboards, Fairy’s breath caught. Spirit and Wolf had gone to Takish Gorge. That wasn’t too far away from Paro Village. Had something happened to them? She reached for Broomstick’s hand.
He clutched his fingers against hers.
“What if—?” she began.
“I know,” he said.
“But Spirit . . . she always manages to figure a way out, right?” Fairy said weakly.
“Yeah, she’ll know what to do,” Broomstick said. His conviction was as uncertain as Fairy’s. It didn’t make her feel any better.
Above them, Glass Lady cleared her throat. “Forgive me, Your Majesty, for not leading with Paro Village, Kaede City, and Sand Mine. I wanted to give you some comfort that the seas are safe for now, that no new threats, like an incoming navy, have appeared. But it is indeed concerning that there has been no communication from three different outposts in the south. A ship has been dispatched to investigate, but it will take a few days, since those regions are remote, and the ship will need to sail around the tiger’s leg to access them.”
“Have we no taigas who can get there more quickly by land?” Empress Aki asked.
Bullfrog spoke up, his voice croaking a bit, as always. “It is unwise to divert resources from our other command posts, Your Majesty. And since the Imperial Navy is already patrolling the ocean, it makes sense to investigate via water. Besides, we haven’t received any distress calls from those three posts. If something bad has happened, surely one of them would have managed to send off a dragonfly.”
Fairy wanted to believe this reasoning. But how did they know something hugely bad hadn’t happened? What if a massive typhoon took out the entire southern part of Kichona, and that was why there weren’t any dragonflies coming in?
Oh gods, Spirit and Wolf could have drowned. She imagined them floating facedown among the wreckage of a typhoon, their bodies lifeless.
Broomstick almost crushed Fairy’s hand. He could feel her terror tremoring through their bond. “Whatever is going on in that head of yours, stop it. It’s not true.”
“But it could be.”
“There are an infinite number of possible outcomes. You can torture yourself imagining the worst, but it’s just as likely to be true as Spirit and Wolf being fine. They could be on their way back here right now. Think about that. Think about Spirit and Wolf’s victory as they ride into the Citadel with news about the south, before the navy gets us word.”
Fairy tried to smile. But she couldn’t.
Above them, Empress Aki sighed loudly. “I appreciate the speed at which the Society has mobilized to address this unidentified threat. However, I can’t help but think that we’re approaching this in the wrong way.”
“How do you mean?” Glass Lady asked. “We are doing what has worked for centuries, based on the Society’s experience protecting the kingdom from everything from coordinated pirate raids to full-scale foreign incursions.”
“Yes, but that’s my point. The attack on Isle of the Moon is like nothing we’ve ever seen before. In all those centuries of experience, have the taigas ever faced an adversary who wielded magic stronger than yours? Or have you faced another enemy with magic at all?”
The Council was quiet, seemingly taken
by surprise by someone questioning their expertise.
A minute later, the commander recovered herself. “Your Majesty,” Glass Lady said, “we have succeeded in defending this island under all manner of conditions for ages. Despite the novelty of this situation, you do not need to worry. Our methods are proven. We will get to the bottom of this mysterious assault, and you will continue to rule this kingdom as your father and your ancestors have done before.”
“I feel as if I’m being talked down to because of my age.”
“Not at all!” Glass Lady rushed to say. “Your Majesty, we have the utmost respect for you. For gods’ sake, you prevailed in the Blood Rift when you were only fifteen. We have no doubt in your leadership. But what we are asking is that you also have faith in ours. Protecting Kichona is what the Society does. Believe me when I say that we are doing everything we should be. It is my job, and I will die before I watch anything—magical or not—threaten our kingdom.”
Empress Aki sighed again. “My patience is running thin, Commander. I feel like we’re having the same conversations over and over again. Therefore, I want you to start thinking about alternate approaches to what you’ve done in the past. In the meantime, keep me up to date if anything changes, and let me know as soon as the navy sends word on why we’ve no communications from the southern outposts.”
The meeting was over. The empress rose and left the room, with the councilmembers accompanying her out of the building.
Fairy stared at the underside of the floorboards. She was as frustrated with the Council’s lack of progress as the empress was.
“I know they have a way of doing things,” she said, “but why haven’t they found anything yet? It’s like they’re afraid to stray from their tracks, for fear of stumbling into an unknown they can’t handle.” Resigned, she laid her head down, her cheek pressed flat into the dirt.
But then she thought of Spirit and Wolf, out there, brave but alone, in the midst of the unknown.
Fairy lifted her head.
Broomstick looked at her expectantly.
“If Spirit were here, she’d come up with a plan,” Fairy said. “But since she’s not, we’ll have to do it ourselves.”