“Yes, Your Highness,” Sora said. “I’m more than ready.”
Chapter Forty-Five
Sora tore through the treetops, chasing after Hana, who sprang from branch to branch as if she’d been born a panther. “You call that fast? I call it pitiful,” Hana yelled, only half teasing as she darted into a hole between cypress branches and emerged several tiers below.
Sora concentrated even harder. It wasn’t that her legs were too slow. It was that she wasn’t completely accustomed yet to the way ryuu saw the world, everything brighter and sharper, as if she’d been myopic before and had only now discovered this marvelous invention called spectacles.
Of course, there were no spectacles, not real ones. And yet the world was new. Besides the omnipresent emerald specks of magic in the air, there were smaller things that surprised Sora. Being able to see a faint green path through the seemingly chaotic mess of forest, for instance. Hana was beating her right now because she not only saw the path between trunks and jagged branches clearly; she also trusted it. Sora had the vision but had not yet acquired the trust to fling herself headlong toward wherever the magic directed her.
She caught up to Hana only when they reached Ao Hills, their stop for the evening. It was another two days to Copper Bluff. Perhaps less, considering ryuu speed.
Sora dropped to the dry grass on the ground. Hana was already roasting a fox she’d somehow caught and skinned in the time it took for Sora to arrive. The blond pelt had been cast aside.
How do I talk to her? Sora wondered. Hana had spoken little since they’d left the Striped Coves. Besides confirming that they were going to kill the empress, Hana hadn’t given any more details. Not how they were going to do this or where they were going. Sora wasn’t even sure if it was progress in their reconciliation that Hana had agreed to the mission, or if it was just following Prince Gin’s orders.
Maybe I’m thinking about this the wrong way. I’m focusing on me. I should think about her.
Maybe the best way to start a conversation would be to appeal to what Hana was most proud of—her ryuuness.
“I’m hesitant to hurl myself through the trees, even though the path is obvious,” Sora said. “I only hope I can be as good with the magic someday as you are. How do you do it?”
Hana didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Sora let her turn the spit in silence, with only the crackling flames to interrupt.
“You’re slow because you’re afraid of crashing into a trunk or not being able to fit through a crooked opening between trees,” Hana finally said. She didn’t look away from the flames as she spoke. “But the magic won’t steer you wrong. If you let yourself go and have faith in it, it’ll work.”
The fox meat suddenly caught on fire. “Crow’s eyes!” Hana cursed.
For a moment, Sora found a tiny spark of joy that her little sister still favored the swearwords that Sora had always liked, the ones she used to tell Hana she was too young to use. Sora grabbed a dead branch and used its leaves to slap at the flames on the meat.
The fire snuffed out, leaving a charred carcass on the spit.
Hana’s fierce exterior broke, and she looked young all of a sudden, not the hard Virtuoso she usually liked to be.
Oh, stinkbug, Sora thought. She wanted to gather her sister in her arms. But it was too soon for that.
“We can scrape off the burnt part,” Sora said. “I’m sure the meat underneath is still edible.”
“I’m not hungry,” Hana said. She pouted at the other supplies they’d brought. A jumble of poles and canvas leaped to attention and assembled itself, magically, of course, into a tent in less time than it had taken for Sora to put the fox fire out.
Sora smiled. There was pride in watching your little sister surpass your abilities. Even if it stung a little.
She left Hana alone to let out her frustration. If this was anything like the tantrums she used to throw when she was a tenderfoot, Hana would run out of steam in a few minutes. Sora turned back to the smoldering remains of the fire, the embers still popping in the remnants of the wood.
As she sat there watching the smoke curling into the sky, though, a dull headache took root. It wasn’t sharp, but more like a constant thrum or a quiet drumbeat at the back of her skull. The rhythm was so well established, it was as if it had been there for a long while. There was also something strangely familiar about it.
What was it?
The mild throb continued, slow and steady. For some reason, it reminded Sora of being asleep, on the cusp of waking.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Like muffled knocking on a door.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Oh. Sora sat up and pressed her hand to the back of her head. She could practically feel the beat in her fingers.
Her gemina bond.
The drumming felt like Daemon pushing gently against her mental ramparts on weekend mornings when she slept in, trying to wake her so they could go to the sparring ring. Is that what this was now? Daemon trying to get her attention.
She hadn’t thought about him much recently, just occasional bursts now and then that quickly faded away because she’d been moving nonstop since becoming a ryuu. But now the balance in her mind felt off. Sora’s feelings weren’t supposed to be alone; Daemon’s were their companion, rounding Sora out to make her whole.
She missed the sensation of his laugh, that feeling like a field of wildflowers had all bloomed at once. She craved the smirk of his jokes. She even wanted the way his emotions leaned on her when he felt insecure.
Sora moved to lower her mental ramparts.
Immediately, though, the warm tide of her promise to Prince Gin rushed in, washing away her yearning for Daemon like a wave erases marks in the sand. You’ve outgrown him, it seemed to remind her.
Yes, she thought, as the heat of ryuu conviction flowed through her, renewed. Sora’s commitment to the Dragon Prince was the only gemina she needed now. The thrumming in Sora’s head faded until it was nearly inaudible. Merely distant background noise.
Sora settled back into her spot in front of the campfire. She remembered her sister, and looked over at where Hana stood by the tents, arms crossed, still huffing.
Hana had been too talented for her own good, in some respects. Among the ryuu, she was always the best, and she was unofficially Prince Gin’s second in command, even though she was only sixteen. Because of all her early success, she didn’t deal well with failure. Being less than perfect seemed to bother her, even if it was something as inconsequential as burning dinner.
“Hey,” Sora said gently, “come back and eat. It’s not bad at all once the char is scraped off. I promise.” She held out a chunk of meat skewered on a twig.
Her sister crossed her arms and huffed. But a minute later, she came back to the fire and accepted the offering. She took a bite.
“See?” Sora said.
Hana grumbled. “It’s all right.”
They devoured the entire fox—learning new magic made Sora even hungrier than usual—and licked their fingers when they were done. With bellies full, Hana relaxed a little, leaning back against a log.
“Is it a secret, where we’re going?” Sora asked, careful not to sound accusatory. “I only ask because you’re doing everything on your own right now, but I could contribute if you told me how.”