“I have a request.”
“What would that be?” she says suspiciously.
“If we’re to head to the Moonstar Isles, allow me to send a message to my mother so that she at least knows I’m well. The last time she saw me, I was being dragged off to prison.”
“You care about her a great deal,” she says, as though it’s a bad thing.
“Of course. I’m always thinking of the ones I love.”
Jyn sighs slowly, sounding equal parts irritated and… resigned. “Very well. We’ll send a messenger bird when we arrive.”
Hope rises in my chest. There’s still an icy distance between us, but I will gladly take her reluctant suggestion over outright rejection.
“Thank you, Jyn.” I say her name slowly, carefully; as one would handle fragile glass. I’m overcome with the urge to say it ten, a hundred, a thousand times—but I settle for just this once.
“Go to sleep,” she says, though not unkindly, before falling silent once again.
Waves of exhaustion gently tug at my senses. The steady rhythm of Jyn’s breaths is more soothing than any of my childhood lullabies.
It’s not long after that I, too, drift off. Sleep claims me as I study the length of her pretty hair, all the while attempting to ignore the gray thread that is once more slowly mending itself between us.
18
Sai?”
Something brushes gingerly against my cheek. Fingertips? No, softer than that. Perhaps a pair of lips?
My eyes are too heavy to open. The sand makes for a surprisingly comfortable bed. My weight sinks into it, the fine grains molding around my form to provide the softest of cocoons. I’m tempted to remain here a while longer, but—
“Sai!”
Jyn raps two knuckles hard against my forehead. The sting jolts me awake, my hand flying to my head.
“What was that for?” I demand, suddenly awake and alert.
“It’s nightfall,” she says flatly, already shifting about to throw off my tunic-turned-shelter. “We’re running low on water. We must find more as soon as possible, else you won’t last three days without it.”
Sand fills my mouth as we rise to our feet together. The air is significantly cooler, the gentle breeze a welcome reprieve. The moon is big and full, a bright silver disk illuminating the inky-black skies above. I gawk at the grand expanse of stars, bewitched by their dazzling beauty. It’s a canvas of blinking lightning bugs,arranged in swirling patterns more intricate than the finest tapestries in all the Five Kingdoms.
“I’ve never seen this many before,” I whisper to myself.
Jyn regards me with a barely perceptible smile. The sight of it nearly sends me flying. Oh, how I yearn for more.
“Have you been taught to use them for direction?” she asks.
“I can’t say that I have.”
She gracefully lifts a finger to point at the sky, drawing the outlines of constellations. “This one here,” she says, “is the Black Tortoise, Xuan Wu. You can just make out the shape of the snake who rides on his back. He will point you north. And over there is the White Tiger, Baihu. Follow him, should you wish to go west.”
“And that cluster there?” I ask, trying my best to visualize the shapes.
“That is the Red Bird, Zhu Que. Use her to guide yourself south.”
“And what of that one?” I say, curiosity bubbling beneath the surface of my skin. I adore listening to Jyn speak. As a child, I was never considered a good student, too easily distracted to pay attention during the schoolmaster’s lessons. And yet when Jyn instructs me, I hang on her every word, soothed by the soft lilt of her voice, which resonates deep within me.
Jyn pauses, looking at the final cluster of stars. “That is the Great Dragon, Qing Long,” she answers slowly. “Follow him to go east.”
“Are they true, the old stories? They say dragons were once born on the easternmost islands.”
