“Where are you taking us?” I ask.
The emperor smiles again, though there is no warmth to be found. He has the eyes of a snake, black and cold and unfeeling. “My Winter Palace. I rather think you will enjoy the view.” He turns to his soldiers and gestures to the surrounding area of the village. “Fan out,” he instructs them, “and kill any survivors you come across.”
My heart sinks. The women, the children… Chyou, Ming, little Jia.
I choke.“No—”
A soldier strikes me across the back of the head with the scabbard of his sword.
My vision blurs, and then all goes black.
37
There are few things as startling as a mother’s intuition.
Sensing something gravely amiss, Her Majesty beseeches her husband with an inexplicable sorrow that has been tearing at her heart.
“Our son is in danger. I can feel it, clear as daylight. Please, my love, we must make haste and set out to find him.”
The red dragon, despite his reservations, agrees. There is precious little he will not do to protect his only child.
They leave the safety of their eastern paradise and venture west through the lands where mankind roams. Humans are truly curious creatures, capable of carving out the earth, controlling the flow of the rivers, and molding structures of clay and stone. It is unnatural. They have built temples and statues and carved their likenesses into buildings, bestowing upon themselves a reverence befitting the Gods.
Her Majesty notices something strange as they pass through the lands. Villagers boast necklaces made of sharp teeth to ward off evil spirits. Soldiers are wielding weapons of sharpened bone. Merchants peddle bottled medicines of sparkling blue scales.
As a growing dread builds, the green dragon realizes what hascome to pass. The cry that erupts from her chest is so powerful that the fields and forests wither and die. She knows they are too late to save her child. All must suffer as she suffers.
But even then, she knows of only one way to sate her need for revenge.
“Bring me the emperor,” she says. “I crave a heart for a heart.”
38
Snow.
The first thing I notice when I finally wake is that we are surrounded on all sides by a blanket of soft, frigid white. The wind is unforgiving, freezing everything it touches. The metal cuffs biting into my wrists serve only to amplify the harsh temperature, scraping away at my tender flesh, which has turned a jarring blue.
My vision is blurry, coming back into focus at a snail’s pace. Whether it’s due to hunger or the ice frosting over my lids, I can’t tell. They have broken both my legs, my bones shattered and muscles torn. The only reason I don’t cry out in pain is because I’m far too numb to feel anything.
It takes me a long while to make sense of my surroundings. I’m in some sort of open-air atrium carved into the top of a high mountain. The Winter Palace is a magnificent structure, chiseled into the grand rock face. Smooth columns hold up pointed roofs covered in red clay tiles, and a large red moon door with two gold dragon-head knockers is bolted to the front. I would marvel at the sight, were I not teetering on the brink of death.
When my vision finally clears, I realize why I can no longer feel my hands or feet. I’m bound in a kneeling position to an iron post, chains pulling my arms back behind me while my ankles are strapped down to the cobblestones beneath.
There’s not enough slack in the chain for me to lie down, but just enough to keep me in this stress hold. There’s a chain around my throat, too, secured to the post so that I have no room to move my head. I can’t lean back without putting stress on my knees, but I can’t lean forward without choking myself.
There’s no telling how long it’s been, though the sticky haze over my thoughts leads me to believe the emperor’s men might have slipped me something to dull my mind. Poppy sap, perhaps? Whatever it was, it’s wearing off—much to the chagrin of my screaming nerve endings.
It takes me far too long to realize that there’s another figure bound on the other side of the atrium. Her hair spills over her face and shoulders; her robes are tattered and stained. While she has thrice the number of restraints on her, I have triple the number of armed guards. The ends of their spears are all pointed toward me, hovering dangerously close to my face, my chest, my stomach—ready to kill.
“Jyn!”
She doesn’t move.
A low chuckle reaches my ear, the sound of the emperor’s voice igniting my simmering rage. I strain my neck in order to see him. Seated beneath the cover of a large tent, the emperor gorges himself on a succulent buffet of roasted meats, steamed pork buns, and hearty stews. My mouth waters while a painful cramp runs through my empty stomach. How many days has it been since I last ate? Or has it been weeks?
“Glad to see you’re finally awake,” the emperor says, chewingwith his mouth open. “I was beginning to worry I had killed the red dragon’s newest reincarnation.”
My brow furrows. “But… how do you—”
