“Those are disgusting,” Ram said, spitting out the chewed-up remnants of a dumpling he’d pilfered. “There are consequences for serving garbage to the Dragon Prince and the most powerful army in the world..”
He glanced at a handful of knives on the counter next to him. One leaped into the air, as if of its own accord, and flew across the room.
It hit Mariko directly in the forehead.
“No!” Fairy shouted.
Blood dribbled around the blade. Mariko’s body and the platter of dumplings she’d been holding toppled to the floor.
But strangely, the kitchen didn’t erupt into chaos. None of the servants ran shrieking for cover.
Ram stared at Fairy.
Oh, gods help me, she thought as she realized why she’d been the only one to shout—everyone in here was hypnotized. Like with the people who sacrificed themselves during the Ceremony of Two Hundred Hearts, there would never be any panic, just continual devotion to whatever the Dragon Prince needed and wanted done. But Fairy had screamed and, therefore, stood out. . . .
“The dumplings!” she cried, throwing her arms up as if she were concerned solely for the food that had spilled when Ram killed Mariko, rather than being upset over the girl herself. Fairy threw herself on the ground near Mariko and began frantically collecting pot stickers off the kitchen floor.
She felt the eyes of the three ryuu still on her.
But then finally, Quill shouted, “You heard Ram. Snacks in the sparring arena in five minutes—actually, three minutes now.” Then they turned and left.
The kitchen servants sprang back into action, as if one of their own hadn’t just been killed. Fairy fought back tears as she dragged Mariko to the side of the kitchen, out of the way of the commotion. The bread Fairy had eaten threatened to come up.
She couldn’t collapse here, though, not right now. She had to continue on her mission in order to save all of Kichona, including the Citadel’s staff.
Fairy looked around the room at the frenzied kitchen girls. She forced herself to memorize their faces, as well as Mariko’s lifeless body on the floor.
I am Fairy. I’m a taiga, and I still believe in the Society oath: Cloak of night. Heart of light.
Goodness could still prevail.
She would fight for everyone here who couldn’t fight for themselves, and she would make sure the rest of the kingdom didn’t succumb to their fate.
It was a promise.
Chapter Eight
Sora looked up at Prince Gin’s castle. It was a long way up the steep, winding road, and she wanted to make both her and Daemon invisible. But casting a spell on herself was one thing; doing it to someone else was another.
“What if I lose hold of the magic?” she asked. “Then they’ll see you.”
“Would it be easier if we moved as a single unit?” he asked.
“I don’t understand how that would help.”
“When I was a wolf and you were riding on my back, my magic was able to envelop all of us. What if that’s because we were all essentially one unit?”
The corner of Sora’s mouth quirked. “So you’re saying that if I rode piggyback on you, it would be easier to include you in my invisibility, instead of casting an entirely different spell for each of us. But it’s a lot of work for you.”
“Well, you could carry me, I suppose . . . ,” he said.
Sora sputtered.
Daemon laughed. “I’m just teasing. You need to focus all your energy on keeping us invisible, not hauling my deadweight up the mountain. Get on.”
She hit him for the joke, but as soon as she was on his back, all was forgiven. She wrapped herself around him and felt the strength of his muscles against her own. His hair brushed against her cheek, and she wanted to reach out and run her fingers through it. Sora swallowed a sigh that would give her away.
“Tell me when we’re invisible,” Daemon said.
She nodded into his shoulder.
Then Sora called to the ryuu magic. It was always there, everywhere, but it remained quietly in the background unless summoned. Now, at her beckoning, it appeared like emerald dust glimmering in the air, eagerly awaiting instructions.
Make us invisible.
The ryuu particles streamed into Sora’s body, the heat seeping through to her core, like a sponge greedily soaking in perfumed bathwater. She gave herself a second to revel in the feeling, despite the underlying guilt that the ryuu magic was a “gift” from her enemy.
But it was a gift she would use against him.
She looked down at Daemon. He was saturated with ryuu particles, too. “It worked,” she whispered into his ear. “You’re invisible, too.”
He didn’t move.
Gods, had something gone wrong with her spell? Sora tapped her hand on his chest. “Daemon? Are you all right? Answer me.”
His body trembled, and he shook his head as if waking. “I’m fine. That was just unexpected.”
“Did you feel it, too?”
“It’s like drinking a warm dose of joy. I didn’t feel it when you floated me over the Citadel walls earlier, but becoming invisible is . . . different.”
Sora smiled a little. There were plenty of reasons to hate ryuu magic, but the warmth that came with it wasn’t one of them.
They made their way up the winding mountain path. Daemon cast a cheetah spell on himself so they could cover the distance faster. Sora managed to keep them invisible, even after she got down from Daemon’s back. He just had to stay close by and be vigilant in case her magic dropped.
They pressed themselves against the outer walls and caught their breaths. There was a surprising lack of patrols—it seemed most of the ryuu were down at the Citadel. Was the Dragon Prince so secure in his position that he didn’t feel the need to have more warriors guarding him?
But why would he? He was controlling the minds of the entire Society of Taigas, minus the four of them. He had powerful magic at his fingertips, and he was holed up in a bastion protected by an army of ryuu in a fortress. There was little reason to be threatened, especially by four kids, who he probably thought were off feeling sorry for themselves somewhere.
Surprise, Sora thought. Here we are. And I’m going to stick a throwing star in your eye. Maybe two.
She and Daemon snuck around the perimeter of the castle.
And almost ran right into a group of ryuu pouring out of one of the side doors.
Sora jerked Daemon back. Despite their invisibility, they needed to be careful, because the ryuu knew there was a rogue ryuu running around who could make herself invisible. If they felt something touch them that they couldn’t see, the conclusion would be easy to draw.
“That was close,” Daemon said.
But she didn’t respond, because a familiar caustic voice carried in the wind, giving orders to the ryuu. Sora didn’t need to look around the corner to know who the voice belonged to.
Hana.
Sora cringed as she remembered the scathing hatred on her sister’s face when they’d fought on the Citadel walls. And the taunt as Hana held Empress Aki’s unconscious body atop the bloodstone castle, a knife pressed to the empress’s throat. Sora had lost track of them during the Ceremony of Two Hundred Hearts, when Prince Gin had compelled innocent men, children, and women to cut out their own hearts as sacrificial gifts to Zomuri. Whatever progress Sora had made in reconciling with Hana while they were both ryuu, it was destroyed now.