The trader hefted the coin in his palm, then smiled. “Our dear heads of state fell ill at the signing of the Three Kingdoms Treaty. Official reports called it a minor case of spoiled food, nothing serious. But no one’s seen them in public since. If you ask me, I think it was poison.”
As the merchant turned away, I glanced with alarm at Lei. It was not the first time poison had been used on a prince.
And yet who would targetallthe royals? Someone who didn’t bear allegiance to any kingdom, surely; someone who wantedallof them disposed of.
The Black Scarves. “Tan Kuro is a poison master,” his healer had told me.
“Kuro,” I breathed.
“He’s been busy, it seems,” said Lei dryly.
I was opening my mouth to reply when Lei pointedly glanced toward the entrance of the trading post. Two imperial messengers rode down the street, stopping in front of the gate.
“Any citizens caught harboring black magic practitioners willbe put to death, alongside their families!” the younger messenger shouted. From his garb, he looked to be a Leyuan representative from the old regime.
“They’re united in their enmity, at least,” Lei muttered.
Even though it shouldn’t bother me, not at a time like this, still I felt deeply wronged. “They’re targeting the very people they should be helping!” I whispered angrily.
Lei took my arm, deftly positioning himself in front of me by pretending to investigate the barley prices. I felt the messenger’s attention drift toward us, before Lei struck up another conversation with the bearded trader, who looked positively gleeful in the chaos. At least there was money to be made in a crisis.
Meanwhile I was shaking with barely concealed anger. Our rulers were useless, as always. The veil had collapsed and all they thought to do was round up available spirit summoners? They would destroy all of Tianjia if they had their way.
Someone beyond the trading post cried out in warning. I peered around Lei as a young girl ran down the dirt road toward us, barefooted and clothed in worn rags. An orphan girl, who likely survived by begging on the streets. Who was she running from? I moved out from behind Lei to scan the road.
“You—” The older messenger, an Anlai soldier, caught sight of me. He dismounted from his steed, withdrawing a pair of iron handcuffs. “The princess is looking for you.”
I tried to back away, but the crowd had pressed closer in curiosity. The orphan girl approached the Anlai messenger with little regard for his personal space. When he reprimanded her, drawing his sword, she did not run away. Instead, she closed the distance between them and—sank her teethinto his stomach. She was so small she only reached his torso. But when she bit him, she had such strength that she ripped chunks of flesh from his bones.
The crying mother stopped crying. The smiling trader stopped smiling. Even I forgot to breathe as the messenger’s organs dangled from his torn stomach.
Who was this child?
Teeth gleaming red, she tilted her head toward the sky, licking blood from her lips. Then she turned to us.
Her eyes were colored gold.
“Run,” I whispered to Lei, who did not need a second warning. He took my hand and shoved his way through the panicking crowd, steering us not toward the outer gate but instead into an adjoining shop. To my surprise he led us up three flights of winding stairs, then down a narrow hallway, which deposited us onto an open-air balcony connected to another via dangling laundry lines.
“Climb!” he shouted, as the maelstrom began in earnest below.
But from this vantage point, I saw it. That shimmering black haze at the center of the city, a haze like a ripple of heat, only there was no sunlight and it should not exist. Beneath the haze was a deep crevice in the earth, like a fault line, its depths shrouded in darkness. Here was the epicenter, I saw, the heart of the torn veil.
“We’ll have to go there.” I pointed, trying to summon the resolve needed. “To close the tear in the veil.”
“Not now,” hissed Lei. “Now we take cover and formulate a plan.”
I opened my mouth to argue, before realizing the depths of my exhaustion. My lixia had never felt more alive, but my qi was terribly depleted, so that I felt hardly more human than spirit.
I conceded his point. “All right—” I began before my breath left me. All reason faded as I cried out, “Sky!”
He could not hear me from up here. Of course he could not. But I could see him, and I could see what were perhaps his final breathsin this life. There was a great bird of prey that had pinned him to the ground, her shimmering talon around his throat, a glowing bead of jade poised in her razor-sharp beak. Sky’s face paled as he struggled for breath, his bare hands scrabbling in the dirt as he sought a weapon. But his sword glinted just out of reach.
Sky’s hands twitched—once, twice—before going limp.
Thirty-Four
There is none more jealous than a spiteful spirit, for even a spirit wishing to be free of its human vessel will still be reluctant to share it with another. Never enter into a bargain with a spirit lightly, for once you choose one, you can never choose another.
