by Evelyn Skye
With a gasp and some raw skin, though, he made it through.
“Maybe I should rub you with oil before you try that again,” Fairy said.
Oh gods. Daemon fumbled for words, but all that came out was incoherent noise. It also felt very hot in the room all of a sudden. Had the fireplace been stoked again?
Fairy moved quickly on to business, though, and flipped herself down, landing her free foot on Daemon’s shoulder while holding the one with the glass out in front of her. She released her hands from the window frame and balanced like a circus performer as he climbed down the wall.
When they reached the floor, he took the glass pane away from her and set both Fairy and the window down gently. They would replace it again on their way out, welding it back into place with Daemon’s sparks.
Now he could really take in the soaring room, two and a half stories tall. The walls were the same red-streaked black stone as the rest of the castle, and one wall was a towering bookcase, each shelf packed full of hardback tomes. Across from the Dragon Prince’s desk was the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows with views of the ocean. Beyond that sea lay the mainland and the seven kingdoms he aimed to conquer. It was like a target set out before him so he would never lose sight of the bull’s-eye. Daemon’s stomach turned.
Ahead of him, there was nothing to see but the closed door to the hallway, decorated on either side by the long yellow-and-green, fork-tongued banners of the Dragon Prince. But on the fourth wall was the map the group of ryuu had been looking at. It was of Kichona and the mainland. There were ships and little soldiers, too—Prince Gin’s navy and army—with dotted lines marking possible routes of attack.
“Looks like we were spying on a war council,” Daemon said. “We were right to sabotage the shipyard last night.”
“I’m going to copy that map so we can study it in more detail later,” Fairy said.
“I’ll search the rest of the room,” Daemon said.
He started with Prince Gin’s desk. The bronze chair was severe yet luxurious, the metal like dragon’s scales but the seat a thick cushion upholstered in gray silk. It reeked of violent power, and even sitting on its edge made Daemon cringe. The desk was decorated with similar bronze scales.
There was only one long shallow drawer, where Fairy had gotten the paper to copy the map. He slid it open, but inside there was nothing more than parchment, pens, and wax for sealing documents. No wonder it hadn’t been locked. Still, considering what had been in the captain’s quarters of Prince Gin’s ship—detailed warrior profiles and a list of the ryuu’s targets—Daemon had expected something less mundane than stationery here.
The truly important things were probably concealed. But after checking the drawer for a false bottom—there wasn’t one—Daemon abandoned the desk to search the rest of the study.
He turned his attention to the bookcase, because Prince Gin had mentioned research when he spoke to Zomuri. This could take a while, and that was time Daemon didn’t have. He would have to flip through the books quickly, checking for hidden compartments inside them, as well as in the bookcase itself. He began on the lowest shelf.
The first book felt heavy in his hands, and he eagerly opened it, thinking there might be something inside. But it turned out to be rather ordinary, albeit with very thick pages, which accounted for its weight.
He moved on to the next one, which also proved to be nothing special. As did the next and the next and the next.
Three shelves later, Daemon rubbed at a cramp in his neck. He glanced over at Fairy, who was halfway through her sketch. They’d need to leave as soon as she finished. Taiga training had taught them to get in and out as fast as possible, because every minute increased the risk of being caught. Daemon and Fairy had already been in the study for half an hour. They were courting disaster.
He needed to go about the books in a different way. Daemon shifted into wolf form and drifted upward, peering at each level of shelves, scanning the spines for titles that sounded significant or books that looked particularly worn, and poking at the back wall of the bookshelf in case there were hidden panels. But he found none.
The last shelf at the top of the bookcase was just the size of a cubbyhole, dark because of its size. Daemon flew a little closer.
Aha! Inside, flush against the wall, was a stack of three books. He hauled them into his paws and flew to the ground with them.
Once in boy form, Daemon inspected them, and his stomach flipped. These were books about old legends; Zomuri had taunted Prince Gin about needing to read them. One of the books was The Book of Sorrow, the third volume from the Kichonan Tales by Sora’s mother. The spine was creased to breaking, and the book fell open to the oft-read fable of the Evermore.
Daemon studied the cramped notes written in the margins of the story. They’d clearly been added to over the years, beginning with Prince Gin’s childish block printing then graduating to a more mature, impassioned script. Were there any clues here that could help them stop the pursuit of the Evermore?
The fable was about Emperor Mareo, the first to swear his loyalty to Zomuri in an attempt to win paradise on earth. It included the Ceremony of Two Hundred Hearts, which Prince Gin had already conducted. After that, though, the story concluded with Mareo setting off to attempt to conquer the kingdoms on the mainland. It was the same part of the tale that Prince Gin was currently in—nothing that would help them now. Besides, Mareo, like all the emperors who followed in his footsteps, had failed to come even close to achieving the Evermore.
“How’s it going?” Fairy asked.
“I’ve found nothing. No clues about Empress Aki or much else either.”
Fairy rolled up her scroll, her sketched copy of the map complete, and came over to his side. “Maybe there’s nothing else here to find.”
“Maybe,” Daemon said, “but Zomuri told Prince Gin to read up on old legends, so I feel like there might be something here.” He set The Book of Sorrow on the desk while Fairy began investigating the walls of the study, tapping to listen for hollow compartments and checking for disguised buttons.
He picked up one of the other books. Its burgundy leather cover and the gold flames on the spine looked familiar. The title on the cover was Obscure Folklore.
This is the one, Daemon remembered. He’d seen another copy of this book before, when he was at the Society outpost in Tiger’s Belly, after Sora had been hypnotized on the Dragon Prince’s ship and Daemon had been left behind. This book contained the legend of Dassu, about a taiga who combined his magic with devilfire and burned down the middle of Kichona. When Daemon last read it, he’d been preoccupied with finding an explanation for why he was immune to Prince Gin’s mind control. But now, because of Zomuri, Daemon knew there was something else important in this book.
A few of the pages were dog eared. He opened to the first one: “Dassu and the Warrior.”
Daemon’s heart beat faster—this was the story he was looking for.
It was almost as he remembered. A taiga wanted more power, so he made a deal with a demon, Dassu, allowing Dassu to blend the taiga’s magic with his own. But when the gods found out what he’d done, Luna sent the demon back to the hells, and she smothered the taiga to death.
However, there was a part of the story that Daemon hadn’t paid attention to the last time he read it, because it hadn’t been relevant to his immunity from Prince Gin. He saw it now, though, because it had been underlined.
The warrior’s small daughter rode in the saddle in front of him, and as he lit the ground aflame with his newfound magic, she whispered, “Papa, I want fire, too.”
Kitari was his only child—her mother had died shortly after the girl’s birth—and the warrior spoiled her because she was the only thing connecting him to his wife. He could not deny Kitari any request, especially when she looked at him with her mother’s eyes. And so he held his daughter close and breathed some of the devilfire into her cupped hands.
Daemon frowned as he read to the end of the l
egend, where Luna killed the warrior and sent his soul to the hells as punishment for distorting the magic she’d given the taigas. That part Daemon had inferred from what Zomuri had told Prince Gin.
But the part that bothered Daemon was that there was no mention of what happened to Kitari, other than the warrior asking Luna to spare her. Had the girl survived? Or maybe the author hadn’t wanted to include the grisly death of a child in the story.
But then why mention her at all?
Maybe there’s something else about her in this book.
He flipped farther into the book, and sure enough, one of the other dog-eared pages marked a tale titled “Kitari and the Curse.”
Fairy returned to the desk. “Nothing in the walls,” she said. “What are you reading?”
Daemon explained the legend of Dassu, then shifted the position of the open book so Fairy could read Kitari’s story at the same time he did.
Magic did not belong to humans. Only the Society of Taigas was permitted its use, and even then, solely in the limited capacity granted by Luna. Kitari was well aware of this, for she had watched her father die for his transgressions, his soul sent to the hells to be tortured for all eternity. Because of this, she hid the devilfire he’d given her, hoping to avoid the same wrath of the gods.
The years passed uneventfully. Kitari grew from a child to a woman, making a quiet living as a laundress in a town by the sea. She married a shrimp fisherman and bore him three children. Their hut was filled with the contentment of a small but safe existence, and as the years passed, Kitari let down her guard and began to use devilfire here and there, but only innocuously, to light a fire in the hearth when they were out of wood or to put on shadow puppet shows for her children. After a long life, Kitari passed away peacefully in her sleep.
But her spirit did not walk through the tunnel of light to the afterlife. Instead, the path led her down, down, down, until it ended at an archway made entirely of flames.
“What is this place?” she cried as her skin began to crisp and blacken, like fish too close to the charcoal.
A figure emerged from the archway, holding out his hand. His face was partly ash, flakes falling off as he approached, and yet she knew him from his first step.
“Father.”
“Kitari,” he said as he ran to her. “I am so sorry. I gave you devilfire, and thus you are condemned to the hells.”
She looked wildly around her, all while frantically slapping at her arms to stop the relentless burning. “But I tried to be good!”
“It doesn’t matter. You possessed illegal magic, and thus you are here.”
Kitari sobbed, but it made no difference. Her skin began to turn to ash like his. When she was completely burnt, her skin healed itself, and the fire began the process of frying her all over again.
“I hate you,” she said to her father.
“I know.”
But he took her hand, and they walked through the archway of the hells, to suffer through eternity together.
“Stars,” Fairy said when she finished. “That was one of the darkest things I’ve ever read.”
Daemon stared at the book. He pointed at the Dragon Prince’s handwriting in the margin, which said, Must achieve the Evermore. “D-does that mean what I think it means?”
Fairy cocked her head at Daemon. “I don’t follow. I must have missed something.”
“If Prince Gin brings the Evermore to Kichona, he and all his warriors will be immortal. But if he doesn’t, I think this means that anyone with ryuu magic will be damned to the hells for eternity after they die.”
“Oh gods,” Fairy said as understanding settled in. “Because Prince Gin stole Sight from the afterlife, and he’s gifted it to the ryuu, just like the warrior gave devilfire to Kitari.”
“Which affects every single one of our friends and teachers that Prince Gin hypnotized. And . . .” Daemon couldn’t finish the sentence.
He leaned heavily against the desk.
“Including Spirit,” Fairy said. All the color in her face drained away. “We have to send a message to them right away!”
“No,” Daemon said quickly. “You can’t tell someone via dragonfly messenger that she’s damned for eternity. I . . . I want to break the news in person.” He sagged against the desk.
Fairy looked at the floor. “That makes sense. But I can’t just do nothing. Maybe we could find a way for Spirit to be forgiven?”
“You saw Kitari’s legend. She possessed illegal magic, and that was that.”
“But who decides which souls go to the peaceful afterlife and which go to the hells?” Fairy asked. “It’s the gods. We could appeal to them to pardon Spirit. It wasn’t her fault she got ryuu magic, and she’s using it for good. That has to count for something.”
Daemon shrugged listlessly. “Maybe it does. Maybe it doesn’t. Kitari used devilfire peacefully, and she was still condemned.”
“Liga promised he wouldn’t forget us. I’m going to try summoning him again and ask if he can help.” Fairy took Daemon’s hand. “Hope isn’t lost yet, all right? The League of Rogues has always considered rules negotiable, and I’m not about to stop now. So come on. We’ll get to the bottom of this and find a way out.”
He sighed but nodded. “You’re right. We can’t give up without a fight.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Invisible, Hana slithered to the floor of the study. She’d been watching Wolf and Fairy the whole time, amused by their complete obliviousness to her presence. She had intended to spring on them when the moment felt deliciously dramatic enough.
But then they’d found that story and the possibility that the ryuu were eternally damned. . . .
Was it true? The implications were so overwhelming, Hana felt suddenly paralyzed, and she’d let Wolf and Fairy escape.
“Why would Emperor Gin do this to us?” Hana asked the empty room.
But maybe he hadn’t known. Yes, that must be what had happened. Emperor Gin had discovered ryuu magic a decade ago. Back then, he was about the same age Hana was now. He couldn’t have known the repercussions of taking Sight from the afterlife. Maybe he only read that story later, and that’s when he wrote the note in it.
Or maybe Wolf and Fairy were wrong, and their theory was just plain stupid.
The only way to find out was to ask.
Hana pulled herself off the floor, smoothed her tunic, and exited the study. Emperor Gin had told his war council he’d be in the throne room if anyone needed him, so that’s where she headed.
She slowed as she entered the hall that looked like a dragon’s mouth. Hana smiled at the toothlike crimson crystals that lit the corridor; they reminded her of the emperor’s uncompromising determination. The ryuu had been refugees in the Shinowana mountains for a decade, but he’d led them through that adversity, never wavering in his belief that they would one day prevail. And look at them now.
Hana rapped on the door.
“Enter,” the emperor said from within.
She pulled on the carved dragon handles and strode into the throne room. Emperor Gin sat relaxed on the crimson stone of his throne, the orange sapphire flames at the top crowning his head like an opulent threat. Hana bowed.
“Ah, Virtuoso, I was wondering what was taking you so long. What do you have to report?”
Hana was confused only momentarily before she remembered that she’d made herself invisible in the middle of the war council meeting because she’d seen Wolf and Fairy hovering outside. She hadn’t said anything about it then, but the emperor knew that she would only vanish like that if it were important.
“I wanted to ask you a question, Your Majesty—”
“And I want your report first.” His gaze was steely and stern.
“Um, right, of course,” she said, years of military obedience kicking in, even though she desperately wanted to discuss Wolf’s theory. So she spilled her report as quickly as possible. “Your Majesty, I went invisible because two of Spirit’s friends were hoveri
ng outside the study. I’m certain they couldn’t hear through the castle walls, which is why I didn’t sound the alarm right away. Instead I waited to see what they’d do. They broke in after your meeting dispersed.”
Emperor Gin sat taller in his throne and looked down at Hana. “You let them break into my study?”
“I—I thought I might be able to learn something from eavesdropping. We haven’t known what they were up to since we defeated them and took over the capital.”
He frowned, and Hana felt it overtake her like a shadow. She’d always been his star student, and she hated feeling like she’d failed him.
Finally, he motioned with his hand for her to continue.
“It turns out, Your Majesty, that my sister’s team has been actively trying to sabotage us. They did something in our shipyard that will delay our plans to attack Thoma. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll give the order for the ryuu to investigate and fix the warships.”
The emperor huffed. “Those taigas are like an infestation I just can’t get rid of.”
“There’s more, Your Majesty. They copied down the map on the wall.”
Emperor Gin’s nostrils flared as he sat at full attention. “They can’t have a copy of our plans; you shouldn’t have let them escape.”
“But I—”
“Take Firebrand and Menagerie and find them. Destroy the map; kill the taigas.”
“Your Majesty—”
“That’s an order.”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“If there’s nothing else, you’re dismissed.” He tilted his head back and looked at the mural painted on the ceiling. It was a scene of his near death after the Blood Rift Rebellion, when he’d crossed almost to the afterlife and took its magic to bring back to the living. Emperor Gin had believed his ability to do so was a gift from the gods. Now, Hana wasn’t so sure.
“Actually, Your Majesty, I still have a question. While Wolf and Fairy were in the study, they read a story about a girl named Kitari, and they said they thought . . . Well, this is probably a stupid leap to conclusions, but Wolf thought you’d dog-eared those pages because they were an analogy to our situation.”