Bile rises in my throat, and I want to vomit all the good food I just ate. If she can’t get me a month, that means I will die before Sora gets back to Yusan. No matter what happens, I’ll never see her again. Tears flood my eyes, and I sniff them back. It was all I wanted—just a chance at a life with her. Not even certainty, just an opportunity. And now it can never be.
I close my eyes and take a moment to mourn the loss. All I did, all I was prepared to do, and it amounts to nothing because of time. Sobs rack my chest, but I don’t let them out. I suppose time makes a fool’s game of all men’s efforts.
“Sora,” I whisper. Then I open my eyes.
Hana flinches but doesn’t attack me. Instead, she studies me. Her eyes are sharp until her full mouth opens.
“Oh gods, you fell for her,” she says.
I don’t bother denying it—what difference would it make?
“From when I first saw her,” I say. “We were only children, and she tried to hide Daysum behind her skirts.”
Hana takes a step closer. I brace myself, thinking she’ll strike me, but instead she leans down. “You can help me save her. The more I know, the more I can assist them. And they need all the help they can get now. This mission was never supposed to succeed. Someone is betraying them.”
My heart races in my chest, but I pause. It could all be a lie, a scheme from a clever spy, but it’s Hana. I know she loves Sora—that much is true. I decide to start from the beginning and pray that it will help her somehow.
Before I can speak, the moaning song of the iku shakes the cell. Hana’s eyes shift toward the walls. She must not be down here much for the sound to surprise her. I’m so accustomed to it that I just wait for the echoes to fade.
“Sora’s father refused to sell her, no matter what price my father offered,” I begin. “Determined to take the girls, my father threatened to slay his whole family unless Chul sold Sora.”
Hana puts the lantern down.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Sora
The Temple of Knowledge, Khitan
Euyn searches the scroll room for threats, but I can’t take my eyes off the eight priests lying in the middle of the floor. They range in age from around twenty to over seventy. Three were women. And they all died slowly.
A shiver careens down my spine as I stare. All their mouths are open as if reciting something together, but they look peaceful. I’ve seen the difference between a body accepting death and one bitterly fighting it.
We leave the scroll room and search the rest of the temple, weapons drawn, because whoever did this might still be here, lying in wait. Anyone bold enough to slaughter all the Yoksa has nothing to lose and thus is wildly dangerous.
We pass a body slumped on the ground by the blood splatter on the back wall—a ninth priest. I don’t understand why he’s not with the others, but he is also dead with his eyes open. This one is smiling.
I shake off another chill.
All the Yoksa have fatal, painful stab wounds to their midsections. The lone priest was also slashed in the neck.
The five of us stop at the fountain altar. Aeri and I catch our breath. Seeing this much death drains your soul. And I’m so very tired. Tired from riding all night, tired of never being safe, tired of always having to persevere. But the only way to free my sister is to get to the queen. I stand straight, with my head held high. We must keep going.
We gather ourselves and search the room to the left. Luckily, there are no bodies here, but it’s ransacked. The reading tables are overturned, volumes torn apart. Paper obscures the floor tiles the way blood did in the other room. I’m not sure how many books were destroyed—probably hundreds.
Gods, what Daysum and I would’ve done with hundreds of books as children.
Someone was searching for something. I can’t imagine what or why. And it’s impossible to tell if they succeeded or not.
“What do we do now?” I ask.
Mikail relaxes, sheathing his sword. “We find the exceptions to the Rule of Distance.”
“How are we gonna find anything in here?” Royo asks, gesturing around.
It’s a good point. There have to be a hundred thousand books and five times that many scrolls in this temple. If I remember correctly, the temples house not just the history of Khitan but also Wei, Yusan, and Gaya. The four original realms of the Dragon Lord—a complete history of the thousand years of human rule.
I look up and around. We could spend the entire monsoon season reading and still not find what we’re looking for. Our plan always depended on the priests being alive and willing to help us.
