by Evelyn Skye
Sora leaned forward too.
“Ready?” the ryuu serving as judge called out. “Three-two-one, scrimmage!”
The man began to circle.
The woman simply sat cross-legged in the middle of the ring.
What in Luna’s name?
A moment later, a rumbling came from the cargo hold below. Oranges rolled up the ladders, in neat but hurried lines. They rushed to the scrimmage ring and piled atop themselves to form an enormous citrus gorilla. The gorilla towered over the ryuu, its broad orange chest heaving, as if it were really alive. Then it bent down and opened its hand. The woman stepped onto its palm, and it lifted her twenty feet up into the sky.
The entire spell took a span of ten seconds.
Sora gawked. Who would have thought a bunch of oranges could be so imposing? It was phenomenal. A gushy sense of pride bloomed inside of her, just by virtue of being part of the ryuu.
The crowd broke out into hollers and applause. Beetle cheered with his mouth full, flinging his arms up, cookie crumbs tossed into the air like sloppy, sweet confetti.
“Are there limits to what we can do?” Sora asked Beetle over the noise.
He shrugged. “Sort of. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. But I think it’s like anything else. Some people are really good at math, and others stop at algebra. Same with magic.”
Fascinating. Sora grinned so hard, she knew she must look a little stupid, but she couldn’t help it. Everything about being a ryuu was new and intriguing. There’d been this whole other world, right beneath the taigas’ noses, and they’d never known. But now Sora would get to be a part of it.
“It seems like all ryuu are geniuses with magic,” she said.
“Nah,” Beetle said. “Smart, maybe, but not geniuses. Except Prince Gin. And Virtuoso. That’s why she got her name. While most of the ryuu took a while to learn what they could really do with the magic, she was a natural from the start.”
The other warrior in the ring looked up at the gorilla. He nodded, as if acknowledging its grandeur. Then he puckered his lips and whistled. A keening, high-pitched noise sliced through the air. Sora and everyone around her smashed their hands over their ears.
Seemingly out of nowhere, hordes of bats filled the sky, blotting out the moon for a moment.
“Fruit bats,” Sora said as she realized what they were.
The man raised his hand, ready to give the signal for his bats to descend on the orange gorilla. To devour it.
“Halt!”
Someone whispered, “Virtuoso!” and the warning floated through the air like a winter ghost. Every ryuu on deck froze, afraid to move. If there was anything soft left inside of Hana, she didn’t show it to the other warriors.
Hana strode to the center of the scrimmage ring and smacked the man upside the head. “Menagerie, you will not have your bats eat all our oranges. Think before you act. We need those.”
He set his jaw, angry that she’d stopped him before his grand finale. But then he said, “You’re right, Virtuoso,” and whistled to call off his bats.
“I declare this scrimmage a draw,” Hana said. The ryuu who was supposed to be judge didn’t try to protest.
The gorilla crumbled, oranges cascading gently downward and bringing with them the woman on her platform. She landed quietly on deck as the last of the oranges rolled away, back down the ladders and, presumably, into their drums.
Hana paced the ring, examining every ryuu who stood around it.
“Personally,” she said, “I think these duels encourage idleness and speculation.” She glared at a place in the crowd where money was changing hands. The truing up of bets ceased immediately. “But His Highness sanctions them, believing them to be good practice for you. So then, let us make this a worthwhile exercise.”
She pulled a knife from her sleeve, whirled, and pointed it in Sora’s direction. The ryuu parted as if they were actually in the blade’s path.
Sora found herself staring at the deathly tip.
“Step forward. It’s time for your training to begin.”
“But I don’t even know how to use the magic,” Sora said. She knew the ryuu particles were everywhere, like emerald dust glittering in the air, but she couldn’t see them right away as she had after Prince Gin granted her Sight. There had been a rush of power during the initiation ceremony, but since then, it had leveled off, and she had to concentrate to find the ryuu particles. Even when she did, she didn’t know what to do with the magic.
“Nothing better than a little public humiliation to get you started,” Hana said. There wasn’t a trace of humor in her words. “Now step forward.”
Sora swallowed hard. But she didn’t have a choice. Everyone was watching her. She was on a ship in the middle of the sea, traveling at sailfish speed. There was no way of getting out of this.
She walked through the path created when the ryuu had parted and met Hana in the scrimmage circle.
Hana vanished. Literally disappeared.
Sora gasped and whipped around.
Some of the ryuu in the crowd snickered.
So that was her little sister’s specialty. No wonder Prince Gin wanted Sora trained. Siblings had the same power, and invisibility would be an incredible advantage over any enemy. If the Dragon Prince could have two ryuu like that . . .
A swipe knocked Sora’s feet out from under her, and she slammed into the floor.
“Use your senses, Spirit!” Beetle shouted.
Sora lashed out to grab an ankle or a leg. Her fingertips touched only air. Hana laughed cruelly, already half the length of the ship away.
Sora jumped back onto her feet. She felt a slight shift in the air a split second before Hana’s head barreled straight into her stomach. Sora flew backward into a mast. It knocked the wind clear out of her lungs, and she crumpled onto the deck.
From the sails above, Hana said, “Get up. You’re an insult to the blood we share.”
So angry. But instead of hurting, the taunt stoked Sora’s competitiveness. I was using magic while you were still in diapers, she thought. Someone needs to put you back in your place.
That was part of the job of being an older sister, after all.
Sora gritted her teeth and pushed aside the ache of the already-forming bruises on her back, and she rose again.
“Find me!” Hana, still invisible, yelled. “Stop flailing like a Kira Lake fish and use the Sight that Prince Gin granted you!”
Sora squinted and remembered what the green particles looked like. A moment later, she saw them whirling in the air, as if a breeze were stirring the magic. Sora followed the disturbance. The specks parted as an unseen force ran through them, then halted at the highest point of the ship—the crow’s nest.
There. That’s where Hana perched.
Sora stared for a few seconds. It wasn’t possible, was it? Had she really found Hana?
But then it began to sink in that she was a ryuu, and that meant she could do ryuu things. Sora grinned, then leaped up the mast, several stories high. It was a movement unimaginable to a taiga, but now it was surprisingly effortless, as if the magic that floated everywhere existed simply to buoy her up and extend her trajectory. Sora reveled in the feeling of being tossed upward, like her legs were made of springs. All she’d done was think about jumping up the mast, and it had happened.
This is incredible. It was the same magic the taigas called up with their mudras and chants, but the ryuu could do so much more with it. How could it be that this power had been there all along, but the Society hadn’t fully understood it?
Because the taigas are limited by their mudras and chants, Sora realized.
She found solid grips and footing on the mast. She looked for Hana but saw nobody.
There was a shout from the crow’s nest above, and suddenly, Hana slammed into her.
Sora plowed into the mast, the wood scraping the entire left side of her face, blood spattering onto her tunic. She rebounded out of the crow’s nest.
&n
bsp; She got caught in a sail on the way down, slowing her rapid fall. It was the only way she didn’t die when she hit the deck. Still, the impact slammed every bit of oxygen out of her body.
“Spirit! Are you okay?” Beetle ran up to the edge of the scrimmage ring. She’d nearly forgotten she had an audience. But of course she did. This was, as Hana had put it, a public humiliation.
“I’m all right.” Sora wiped a smear of blood from her cheek. Hopefully it made her look fiercer than she felt, like war paint instead of defeat.
And she would not be humiliated. Not by her little sister. Sora got to her feet.
The last time she and Hana were in the same place, Hana had been so resentful. Sora didn’t want to see that in her sister’s eyes anymore. She wanted both Prince Gin and Hana to be proud of her.
Sora was supposed to have the same power as her sister. But even if Sora didn’t know how to make herself invisible yet, it might still be possible for her to see how Hana did it.
“You’re still thinking like a taiga.” Hana’s voice came from somewhere else on the deck, that now-familiar corrosive condescension returning to burn the edges of her otherwise youthful voice. Sora’s ears were still ringing from the fall and she couldn’t quite place the source. “Magic is like another reality,” Hana continued. “Or rather, one layered on top of the world that ordinary people—and taigas—see.”
Sora remained light on her feet, hands up in fighting stance, while she pondered this.
That was it! Ryuu magic was invisible to taigas. But now that Sora had Sight, she could use it if she focused. She’d seen the oranges in the gorilla, infused with the green of particles. The bats’ wings had glittered with ryuu magic inside them.
If she looked harder at the emerald dust, maybe she’d find Hana, saturated by the magic in much the same way.
Sora bit back a smile, in case it was premature. But that had to be it. Hana wasn’t actually invisible. She’d simply asked the magic to camouflage her from ordinary reality. With that thought, the barriers of Sora’s preconceptions began to fall away.
And there was Hana, like an emerald version of herself, reclining on the edge of the ship’s railing.
Sora pretended to wander aimlessly. But when she was within range, her arm shot out and knocked Hana off the railing. Only because Sora grabbed a fistful of her tunic did her sister not fall overboard.
Hana reappeared.
“Holy heavens,” Beetle said, dropping the last half of his cookie sandwich onto the floor. “No one else has been able to see Virtuoso when she was invisible.”
All the other ryuu stood equally stunned that someone—a recruit, no less—had bested the undefeatable Virtuoso, who now dangled off the side of the ship.
Sora braced herself for Hana’s scowl.
What she got, though, was her sister looking up at her, eyes bright and clear and wide, the exact expression of surprise and awe she used to give Sora when they were young. Sora glowed. This was what she’d wanted. This was what she’d missed.
But the admiration was quickly replaced with Virtuoso’s signature glower. Hana scrambled back onto the railing and shoved Sora aside. She landed on deck and stormed off.
Those two seconds, though, were enough.
I am so glad to be here, Sora thought. Not only to be able to play with magic more powerful than she’d ever imagined possible. But also to be reunited with Hana, even if her little sister hadn’t come around yet to accepting her.
Sora couldn’t wait to spend more time with Hana. She would become the ryuu that Hana had promised Prince Gin she would be. And hopefully, she would permanently earn back that look of love and admiration that had flitted in her little sister’s eyes.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Daemon swam all night. He swam until his muscles cramped, and then he pushed on some more, the magic of his sailfish spell allowing him to continue past ordinary human limits. His lungs burned and his lips cracked from the seawater, and still, he kept swimming. He would never make it to Tiger’s Belly before the ryuu. Their magic could command the sea. Even against an ordinary ship, Daemon’s arms and legs would be no match. But he could do his best and swim ashore on one of the smaller islands nearby.
At the same time, he tried to project the will to resist Prince Gin through his gemina connection. Where was that electric feeling he’d had before, the sharp spark he’d used to shock Sora out of the Dragon Prince’s spell? He needed to send it to Sora again.
But he couldn’t find it. Perhaps Daemon had to be under attack by Prince Gin’s magic in order for his own defenses to rise. There was no blaze of resistance now, just his own thoughts reciting, Be strong, Sora, be strong, over and over again.
And yet, even that was useless. His urging went nowhere, like throwing a ball at a cushioned wall. It simply bounced back, muted. It was as if Sora’s mental ramparts were up.
Why were her ramparts up?
Oh gods, he thought, his arms growing heavier in the water. What if Prince Gin has already hypnotized her?
Part of Daemon wanted to let himself drown. He couldn’t bear to think of Sora stolen by the Dragon Prince. His strong, brilliant gemina reduced to one of the lemmings who followed the prince around.
But another part of Daemon knew that he had to keep going. If Sora had fallen under the charm spell, she’d need him now more than ever. And that part of him guiltily liked that he had a chance to be the hero of the story for once. Between the pair of them, Sora had always shined brighter. Daemon didn’t even know who his parents were or where he’d come from, for gods’ sake.
He heaved himself onto shore, his arms too tired to take care not to slice himself on the coral.
Officially, these islands were called the Sanran Atoll, but Kichonans had long ago nicknamed them the Belly Lint Atoll, since they were a sprinkle of tiny islands south of Tiger’s Belly, and on a map, they looked like specks of navel dirt.
Daemon flipped onto his back and lay there, panting. Because he was no longer in the water, the sailfish spell left him, and with it, his sailfish endurance disappeared, too. Suddenly, human exhaustion caught up and slammed into him. Not two minutes from climbing out of the sea, Daemon passed out.
The sun was up when Daemon woke. His eyes flew open in a panic. Was it morning already? How much time had passed? Gods, he couldn’t afford to fall asleep!
Waves lapped at his legs, and the salt water stung the myriad cuts on his skin. The pain helped him focus, and he realized that whatever time he’d lost couldn’t be recovered, so worrying over it was a waste. All that mattered now was getting to Tiger’s Belly as quickly as possible.
I need a boat. I can’t beat Prince Gin there, but maybe I can still get to Tiger’s Belly before they leave with the new batch of recruits. In time to save Sora.
Daemon rolled over and got to his feet. His legs felt like jelly, but he forced himself to jog toward the cluster of thatch-roofed huts farther up the beach.
Half a dozen fishermen sat on a small pier, some sorting through the day’s catch, others mending nets. It must have been later than Daemon thought it was. Please let the ryuu still be at Tiger’s Belly.
“Yah-ho!” he shouted when he was close enough.
The men looked up at his greeting.
Daemon stopped at the edge of the pier and gave a short bow of his head. “Hello there. I was hoping you could help me.”
They blinked at Daemon, as if he were a strange apparition. He must have looked like some sort of sea creature, dripping wet with seaweed and sand clinging to his clothes.
“Look at his hair,” one of the men whispered. “It looks like the midnight ocean.”
The others gawked.
“Um . . .” Daemon ran his fingers through his hair. Damn blue roots. Once this was all over, he was going to dye them again. But first, he had the small order of business of defeating a magical, vengeful prince bent on hypnotizing all of Kichona. Easy.
After a few more seconds of gaping, the first man who’
d noticed Daemon’s hair dropped to his knees and lay out prostrate on the pier, as if bowing to the empress herself.
“What are you doing?” Daemon asked, blood rushing to his cheeks. “Get up. I’m not royalty.”
“Nauti is testing us,” the man said to the others.
They murmured their understanding that they were in the presence of the god of the sea, who in some myths had hair as blue and black as the deepest part of the ocean. They immediately fell to their knees and laid themselves before Daemon.
“No!” Daemon said, the ridiculousness of the scene pushing back on his own embarrassment. “I’m not a god. Especially Nauti, who I’m pretty sure wouldn’t look like a drowned dog if he wanted to appear before you. Look, I’m only a taiga.”
The men crawled up from their bows a little, although they remained on their knees, just in case. “A taiga?”
“Yes, I am called Wolf, and I am in dire need of your assistance. I need a boat so I can get to Tiger’s Belly. Whatever it costs, the Society will reimburse you, and then some. But please, get up. I need this boat quickly.”
They studied him, then discussed among themselves for what seemed like an eon. Finally, the first man stood up.
“We do not have much to offer, but whether you are Nauti or Wolf, it is our honor to help you. We’ll row you ourselves, wherever you wish to go.”
Daemon nodded. I suppose if believing I’m a god means they’ll get me to Tiger’s Belly, I’ll let them go on believing. He’d donate next month’s apprentice allowance to Nauti’s temple as an apology for not setting the record straighter here today.
“Thank you,” he said. “You are truly honorable citizens of Kichona. Now please, let’s go.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Soon thereafter, the ship swept briskly into Tiger’s Belly. The ryuu disembarked, led by Hana, who refused to meet Sora’s eye.
The harbormaster ran down the pier, waving papers angrily. “This ship is not registered! You cannot take up a berth!” he shouted.
Prince Gin took his time walking up to him.