“Well, you have nothing to fear,” replied Seryu, grinning. “If her snakes try to harm you, my pearl will protect you.” He tilted his head at me. We’re connected, you and I.
I could hear his voice, but his lips were still as stone. I jumped back. “How did you do that?”
“Like I said, my pearl will protect you. It links us, similar to the way you and Kiki are connected.”
“Your pearl?”
“Yes, you’d have drowned if not for the tiny piece I put in your heart. Just enough to keep you out of trouble.”
“You put a pearl in my heart!” I exclaimed.
“After you fainted. No need to sound so ungrateful—it saved you.”
My alarm quickly subsided into curiosity. “So dragon pearls are magic.”
“Are they magic?” He scoffed. “They’re the very source of our power—magic in its purest, rawest form. Demons and enchanters covet nothing more, since they enhance their abilities.”
“Where is yours?”
“Here,” he said, pointing at his chest. “I would show you, but its brilliance would blind you.”
I mimicked his scoff to mock his ego. “Yet you chipped some off to save me?”
“I wanted to know what a pretty human girl was doing diving after a magic bird.” He cleared his throat, his thick green brows knitting in confusion as I stared at him. “Not a sight you see every day. I figured a bit of the pearl might help you to shore….Why are you staring at me like that?”
I wore a coy smile. “You just called me pretty.”
A flush instantly colored his pointed ears. “I meant I thought you were pretty for a human,” Seryu grumbled. “You’d be a hideous dragon.”
A warm tingle smoldered in my chest, and I inched closer to him—just to see his ears redden more. “Luckily I’m not a dragon.”
“Clearly,” said Seryu, rubbing his ears. He glared. “Which is exactly why you can’t go around telling anyone you have a piece of my pearl. It would be near impossible for anyone except me to take it from you, but enchanters are as greedy as they are resourceful….Best not to take chances while I’m away.”
“You’re going away?” I exclaimed.
“Back into the Taijin Sea. My grandfather’s court convenes in the westerly quadrant during the winter months.”
“But it isn’t winter.”
“It is for us. Dragon time runs differently than in the mortal realm. A week for me is a season for you. I should be back by your spring.”
“Spring?” I repeated. “But what about our lessons? And the cranes—you’ll miss the cranes!”
The dragon’s brow furrowed. “The cranes?”
“They visit the palace at the beginning of every winter,” I explained. “It’s tradition to greet them the first day they arrive.”
“Just as it’s tradition for the royal princes and princess to fly kites during the Summer Festival?” Seryu said wryly. “You humans have many traditions.”
“You’ll also miss my birthday,” I said, suddenly glum. “It’ll be my last one in the palace before I’m shipped off to marry Lord Bushian’s son.”
That caught the dragon by surprise. “You’re going to be married?”
“Yes,” I mumbled. I’d buried all the dread I felt about my betrothal for weeks, but now that Seryu was leaving, the reality of my fate stung.
“When?”
“I’ll be sent to Castle Bushian before the end of spring. The wedding will be next summer.”
The tension in Seryu’s shoulders released. “Oh, that’s plenty of time. Cheer up, I’ll be back in the spring. In the meantime, work on your magic.”
My fingers went instinctively to my pocket for the pieces of Kiki I still kept with me. “Show me how to bring Kiki back.”
“You don’t need any instruction. Just remember what I taught you.”
Nervously, I placed the scraps of paper on my lap, four in total. All my enchantments since Kiki had been short-lived. The flowers I made bloom wilted once my concentration flagged, and the stick horses I made gallop collapsed as soon as I turned away. What if I resurrected Kiki, only to lose her again?
Kiki is different, I told myself as I carefully began to piece her together. She’s a part of me.
After a minute, there she was. A little fragile, but mostly the same as before—with a beak that hooked slightly downward, two inky eyes that I’d dotted with careful strokes of my brush, and wings that creased in the center, so they curved like orchid petals.
Except the red ink of her crown had smudged and faded.
I scratched open a scab on one of my fingers, freeing a bead of blood that I pressed to the paper bird’s head. As it darkened into crimson, I held my bird on my palm. I filled my thoughts with hope that she’d come alive again, and whispered, “Awaken.”
A fine, silvery-gold thread of magic rushed past my lips and twisted across the bird’s wings before settling there, as if stitched onto the paper. Then her wings flapped once. Twice. And she lifted, circling my face.
“Kiki!”
Kiki landed on my hand, her wings stroking my fingers. That was quite possibly the worst nap I’ve ever had, she grumbled, shaking her beak at me. I dreamt I was ripped to pieces. I’m never sleeping again. Ever.
“I can hear you,” I marveled.
Yes, of course you can hear me! I’m your dearest friend, aren’t I?
“Your desire to bring her back must have bonded you,” mused Seryu. “Now you can hear each other’s thoughts…though you might find the company of a dragon preferable to that of a paper bird.”
Will she, now? Kiki twittered soundlessly. I was her friend before she met you.
I laughed, loving my bird’s cheekiness. “Yes, but can you teach me magic while Seryu is away?”
“Unlikely.” Seryu lounged back in the grass. “You could always ask your stepmother for help, though.”
My laugh died on my lips. “My stepmother?”
Seryu shrugged. “Don’t you know? She’s a powerful sorceress. Magic emanates off her. Even when I was at your Summer Festival, I noticed it.”
Raikama, a sorceress? Impossible!
“You must be mistaken.”
“I would never mistake such a thing.”