I squinted at him. “Why?”
“He wants to win the throne ‘fairly,’ he said.”
I snorted at this, and even Winter smirked. Fairness had no place in court, I’d long ago decided. It did not matter how you got there—in the end, there were only winners and losers, and the winners rewrote the rules.
“Keep an eye on Prince Yuchen, will you?” I asked him now. “I think he means to make a move for the throne. I just can’t tell when.”
Winter nodded, and I made to leave.
“There’s something else,” said Winter, and to my surprise he reached out and snagged my wrist. Pushing up my sleeve, he saw the irons I never removed. “I thought so,” he said quietly.
I pulled my wrist free from his grasp. “What—”
“Do you know—the dragon cannot kill you?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, a touch resentfully. “He tried to drown me—”
“He can torture you. He can cause you emotional and psychological distress. He can let misfortune befall you without intervening. But no spirit can directly sever the bond with their human vessel. The two of you are stuck together, for better or for worse.”
I stared at him, wondering at his motives. “How do you know so much?”
He gave me a cryptic smile. “I once faced a choice much like yours.”
Before I could press him further, he left, leaving me to ponder the weight of his words.
I had been wearing my irons out of fear, thinking that once the dragon found me, he would try to drown me. After all, I had foiled his plans at the end of the war.
And yet my spirit affinity made me a powerful summoner, one even a Cardinal Spirit could not easily replace. And if the dragoncould not kill me, then he could not find another vessel in my stead. Perhaps I could make Qinglong see me as an equal this time. Perhaps we could work together, two reluctant partners made to dance.
It had been a long time since I’d called out to the dragon. Perhaps it was finally time to say hello.
Nine
Given the often parasitic nature of the spirit-vessel relationship, many summoners come to resent their spirits. Open hostility is unadvised, however, as spirit and vessel are bound together, like two birds that mate for life.
—Lost Journals of an 8th-Century Lixia Scholar, date unknown
Lily found me as soonas I returned to my rooms. “They caught a spirit summoner,” she said breathlessly.
“Who?” I demanded, wondering if Sky was hurt. “Where?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that they’re set to hang him at the Gate of Heavenly Peace next week.”
I held my breath. Could it be him? The one behind the spirit gates, responsible for the terror and paranoia gripping the city? The disappeared ones, the mad ones, the dead ones? Had they caught him at last?
Perhaps this meant Sky could finally return home. But with him would return the Imperial Commander, and the crown prince. I was not moving fast enough.
“What news of the princes? Have you learned anything of value?”
She shook her head. “We’ve tried to bribe the servants, but their loyalty remains unshakable. The only way to compel them would be through force, but then they would surely report back to their mistresses.”
But what if there was another way to compel them—without themknowing? I thought of Winter’s advice as I toyed with my irons, the weight of them now as familiar to me as the weight of my own hair.
“Find out who the spirit summoner is,” I ordered. “Leave the princesses to me.”
I knew which guard carriedmy keys: Zibei, a young member of Sky’s personal guard. I did not particularly like him; his private smiles and long, lingering looks left me uneasy. But perhaps I could turn his interest to my advantage.
I waited until the changing of shifts to emerge from my rooms.
