Eventually, I give up. In whichever way Hana meant it, the letter and the lantern are a gift. One I will remember.
I stare at Sora’s letter until the oil finally burns out.
And then I’m alone again in the dark.
Chapter Fourteen
Euyn
The Northern Pass, Khitan
We are around a bell outside of the city walls of Quu when the rain turns to snow. Not a blizzard, but constant large flakes. The fresh snow is pretty, covering the country in a blanket of pure white, but it does make travel trickier. Our horses are halibreds—fast, normally, but not sure-footed winter horses built for trekking through deep snow.
Half a bell later, we find a trading post and exchange our mounts. They don’t have winter horses, so instead we take a sleigh large enough for us and our gear. It is dark wood and around twelve feet long with two benches—one in the front, one in the back. Four califers are tied to it. Califers are a cross between caribou and horses. A team of four will still be slower than winter horses, but they were our only viable option, so we will have to make do.
With Mikail taking the reins, we head directly north to Lake Cerome.
“It’s fucking freezing.” Royo blows a breath into his bare hands.
He’s complained numerous times since we left the Gray Shore Inn. The conditions aren’t that bad—he is just in a foul mood. He’d rather be at the ball with Aeri, and I can’t say I blame him. Between the snow and wind, it’s not a pleasant journey. I’d also rather not risk traveling through the night, but we have to reach the temple before the information disappears, and we need him with us. Someone willing to kill a priest means there’s danger, so the more men we have, the more muscle, the better.
No one knows who the Yoksa are, generally speaking. Of course, spies constantly follow the known Yoksa in Yusan, but they change often. All records have to be brought to the repository by scroll, book, or person, however, and that makes them trackable. The Yoksa are known as independent, and their records veritable truth, but with enough blades and power, history can be malleable.
The old king Theum invaded the Yusanian temple and changed the records not long after he took the throne. I am not certain what he altered—I doubt anyone living knows. But my supposed father is not the only one who has forced his spin on history. The written atrocities of Wei are far milder than what Yusan endured.
And now, someone is trying to alter history in Khitan at any cost. If I had to guess, it’s my sister.
Quilimar is ruthless and more than apt for slaughter. As a teenager, she killed a chambermaid she found fault with. She murdered multiple fencing opponents, despite the fact that those matches were supposed to end at the touch. She claimed all those fights were legal, her competitors agreeing to gamble their lives. And the rumor is she murdered her suitor, the western count’s brother.
When Joon signed her marriage certificate to the King of Khitan over her pleas for mercy, she attacked our brother. She tried to slit his throat, and it was one of the few times I actually saw fear in Joon’s eyes. If I had to guess, Quilimar knows we are in Khitan and she is destroying the exceptions to the Rule of Distance so that no one can reach her again.
“It’s still a day and a few bells to get there?” Royo grumbles, adjusting his coat. He’s seated between me and Mikail, a buffer in our stalemate.
“Normally,” Mikail says. “But we can sleep in shifts, and with the four califers pulling us, I think we will make it there in less time.”
“Great.” The scar on Royo’s face moves as he scowls.
“Royo, maybe you should sleep first,” Mikail suggests. “There’s room in the back of the sleigh for you to lie down.”
I’m not sure if Mikail wants to speak to me privately or if he’s tired of Royo’s sour attitude. Either way, Royo takes the hint and climbs into the back. There are blankets along with weapons and our bags on the bench. None of us were comfortable leaving our things at the inn. I wasn’t comfortable there at all, between the poor quality and the feeling that we were being watched.
Mikail and I sit in silence as he steers the sleigh through the dusky snowfall. The sun sets, but the monsoon moon is huge and illuminates the white snow. The effect creates so much light that it’s easy to see across the open fields. I wish conversation glided as easily as the sleigh.
I look at his handsome profile and wait for him to say something, anything, but the only noises are the wind and Royo’s snoring as we travel toward the moon. The night is so still, the moon so close, it feels like we could reach the lunar goddess. The snow has a kind of magic that makes it difficult to remember that we’re on a dangerous mission to the Temple of Knowledge.
“I think it’s Quilimar,” I say.
Mikail finally looks over at me. He has barely spared me a glance since we reached the harbor, and not many on the ship, either. But his attention still causes the same stirring in my lower stomach, the same pull in my chest.
“I think my sister ordered the murder of the Yoksa,” I add.
He nods. “I’m nearly certain of it, but Joon has a greater plan in motion than just the ring, so he may be behind the murder. It could also be both of them.”
“Both?” I shiver and adjust the hood of my coat as the temperature continues to fall. The wind hitting the open sleigh makes it worse, although Mikail seems unbothered. Then again, he never seems fazed by anything as ordinary as the elements.
“Working together,” he says. “I have been trying to figure out why Joon would keep us alive—specifically me. I am a commoner and a threat to his rule. Surely it would have been easier to kill me in the throne room than to send me on this mission. Yes, the country needs gold, but why break the peace to steal the ring? Why risk another war? Maybe it is all a ruse. Maybe he’s not plottingagainstQuilimar, but with her.”
I consider the possibility of Joon and Quilimar working together. It would be a formidable alliance if it were possible. But it is not.
