“I believe,” Hào’yáng says with a touch of wonder, “that our company is being requested.” He stands. A wry grin curves his lips as he holds his hands out to me. “Our conversation can wait. The Dragon King cannot. Shall we?”
—
The ocean glimmers as we step onto it. Water sluices beneath our heels; curiously, our path yields no reflection of us. Sunlight appears to hit the white sand of the sea floor, and yet I have the feeling that were I to jump in, the depths of this sea would be fathomless.
Great lotuses drift past; shadows of gargantuan creatures flash beneath our feet. In the distance, clouds form, seeming to contain glints of scales and claws.
Between one step and another, a palace appears in front of us. It looks as though it’s woven from the fabric of blue sky and gold sun. Pillars of mother-of-pearl and walls of the purest lapis lazuli shimmer with an ancient and timeless magic.
Ripples form on the surface of the sea as we approach the pale marble steps. Several pairs of great eyes blink at us as a dragon, then another, rises from the water, scales and teeth flashing. They watch as we climb the steps and enter the palace through golden doors.
The inside is filled with the echoes of waves. Light refracts strangely, as though we are underwater. Overhead, schools of colorful fish dart along the open-air ceilings, and crabs and lobsters cling to the pillars.
Hào’yáng leans to whisper in my ear, “Would it be a terrible time to say I’m craving seafood?”
I elbow him, holding in a laugh, but he captures my hand and slips it through his arm.
At the end of the great hall, standing before a throne resembling an oyster shell, is a man whose lower body ends in a great, serpentine dragon’s tail. His face is moon-pale and elegantly beautiful, his skin aglow with the bluish light surrounding us. A smear of turquoise scales dusts his cheeks and neck, and his ears resemble fins of a fish peeking through his aquamarine hair.
“Prince of mortals.” His voice stirs the waters. “Daughter of immortals.”
I resist a shiver as his pale eyes fall on me. Though he wears a human face, there is nothing human in his gaze. Within is an existence that predates our knowledge of time.
Hào’yáng sinks to one knee, and I follow suit. “It is the honor of a lifetime to meet you, Dragon King of the Western Sea.”
“Rise,” he says, and we do. “I came as the representative of the four Dragon Kings today. Though a drop of blood of all Four Seas runs through your veins, princeling, it is my daughter who chose you as her charge at birth. Since she chose to sacrifice her fleshly body to preserve your life, it seems I must meet with you today.”
Hào’yáng presses his hand to the ice pendant at his throat; the light from Meadowsweet’s heart seems to pulse. “I did not deserve what she did for me,” he says quietly.
“Our kind do not act upon love nor any of the moral codes upon which many beings of these realms do. We are older than this world, older than even time itself, and we will continue to exist after this world ends. Our lives are woven into the fabric of fates and destinies, spelled in the stars that only the gods can see.” The Dragon King gives a slow blink. “It seems your life was an important one to save, in the piece of destiny that She of the Moon-Frosted Sea was allotted. Tell me, then, how I can help you in your quest.”
“I have two asks, if I may,” Hào’yáng says, and I admire his boldness in the face of a god. To my surprise, he unwinds the silver cord around his neck and cups Meadowsweet’s heart in his palms. He lowers himself to both knees and bows his head as he says, “Help me save She of the Moon-Frosted Sea.”
The Dragon King is silent for a long time. “A dragon takescenturies to grow into their true form,” he says at last. “She of the Moon-Frosted Sea was born in the depths of winter, when a great storm froze over the realms. She grew out of each winter’s snow and the new frost of the moon throughout the years. It may be at the end of a season, it may be at the end of your life, or it may be after you are long gone when she returns.”
Hào’yáng’s face remains unchanged, yet I know him well enough to spot the emotion that tightens his jawline. “So long as she returns one day, even after I am gone, I will be glad forit.”
Yet his words have unlocked a new, unquiet thought for me.
I clasp my hands around the front of my gown, over my heart, where my immortal powers manifested.
If I am half immortal, will I outlive Hào’yáng, and Méi’zi, and Ma? Will I watch as my loved ones grow old and vanish into the stream of time while I remain unchanged? I imagine a long existence in loneliness, with the whole world open for me to see yet no one to see it with.
“Your first ask is no ask,” the Dragon King says, and the ice pendant heart of She of the Moon-Frosted Sea rises from Hào’yáng’s hands and drifts toward the dais. It comes to rest on the oyster shell throne, pulsing gently. “Your second ask, then.”
Hào’yáng rises, and this time, he takes my hand. I am glad for the heat of his fingers, solid and steady between my own, which have gone cold. “I ask for the allegiance of the realm of dragons in my fight to drive the Kingdom of Night out of the mortal realm.”
As soon as he finishes his sentence, the waters within the palace and outside stir. Echoes of hushed, rumbling voices fill the hall as flashes of moving, serpentine forms—dragons—appear beyond the palace pillars.
The Dragon King cocks his head, his tail undulating as heappears to listen. The dragons are speaking to each other, I realize, in a language too ancient for mortal ears. A language of oceans.
When the tides calm again and the shapes outside retreat, the Dragon King gives his response.
“Long ago, the Azure Dragon—a queen of old—crossed into the mortal realm and lay down into a long slumber. Her fleshly body became the rivers that birthed your civilization. To honor and protect humans, the dragons of the Four Seas gave a drop of blood to the first mortal emperor, thereby creating an eternal bond between the Kingdom of Rivers and the realm of dragons.
“Through the turn of dynasties and the immutable flow of time, we have watched over the land and its rulers. We are not governed by any laws of your realm nor bound by any code to do so, yet the bond between our kind and your imperial lineage has always held strong.
“And it continues to today…to both heirs.”
