“And you just got up and came home?”
“Kirin—the imposter Kirin—said he was exhausted and it was time to be back at the palace. The encounter had been enough excitement for me, too, so I didn’t question the decision.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“Nothing…” Sky leaned away abruptly enough she staggered heavily against him. He shook her off.
She scowled. “Did you?”
“Yes.”
She spread her hands to ask for more.
“It was different. But not… I didn’t know what to think.”
Nothing curled her knees up and hugged them. She always knew what to think. Just not what to do.
“You knew right away,” Sky accused softly.
“Kirin looked into my spirit long ago, and I into his. When you returned, I looked at him and my whole body rejected him, like instinct.”
“I need more instinct, and you less of it.”
Nothing snorted. “How many more days to the place where you lost him?”
Sky didn’t answer at first, probably irritated at how she’d phrased the question. Then, “Three weeks, without more delays like this. The roads meander through the rain forests along the best paths for trading between villages. If we could go overland, faster. But there are too many spirits and demons, not to mention wolves and eagles and bears. I’m not skilled enough to always find my way without the sun or a map.”
“I’ve never left the palace before,” she whispered.
After a pause, he said, “You’re doing all right.”
Nothing drifted into sleep soon after that and dreamed of rain, of Kirin’s tilted smile, and of dragons with one green eye and one bone-white.
TEN
THOUGH IT WAS DIFFICULT to know with certainty, when the sun finally broke through the rain, it was morning, and Sky guessed they’d been in the snag’s hollow for two nights.
The long delay should have weighed heavily on Nothing, but the sunlight gleamed warm and bright on dripping leaves and brilliant green ferns, sparkling in the air as if the whole world was clean and freshly ready for mischief.
As she emerged, she paused to smear a little blood for the demon, in thanks that it had left them alone, then walked toward the sounds of a stream. Her eyes ached from the light, but she lifted them toward the blue sky peeking through gently swaying branches of the rain-forest canopy. Everything smelled thickly of water and fertility. How had she never ventured out into the world? What had she been afraid of? No, she’d not been afraid; it simply never occurred to her to leave. Kirin had been in the palace, and so was she.
Nothing ducked her head and knelt at the stream. The clear waters trickled and danced around smooth stones flinty gray and bright marble white. Veins of glittering silver winked, and Nothing touched the rippled surface. She whispered, “Hello,” and thoughtlessly plucked a hair from her head and dropped it in. The long black hair fell gracefully to the water, contorting like an eel or Peaceday kite against the gentle flow.
Farther down the stream, a bubble emerged, the size of a human head, and two huge eyes blinked at her. The eyes popped atop the head, like a frog’s, and were grayish green. It rose slightly higher and opened a mouth that gaped toothlessly. But its gullet and tongue were vibrant red. The strand of Nothing’s hair slipped into its mouth and down its throat. The spirit snapped shut its mouth and blinked at her, then sank down into the stream again.
“Well,” said Nothing. “I hope, little stream, you like the taste of nothing.”
“Who are you talking to?” Sky asked, hunching down against the bank beside her.
Nothing cupped water in her palm and splashed him.
He cried out and batted her away. “I only just got dry!”
With a wicked smile, Nothing leapt at him, flinging her arms around his neck and laughing in his ear.
Sky roared, dropping the bags and water gourd. He stood effortlessly and reached up to grab her, still growling like a bear. Instead of dragging her off him and flinging her away, he dug his fingers into her ribs and tickled her.
Nothing’s mouth and eyes flew open and she kicked wildly, shrieking.
He did not let up, pinning her to his shoulder with one huge arm, tickling her side and stomach until she gasped for air, choking on her laughter. “Please…!” she managed, and Sky stopped. It was only then, as he cradled her more gently, that she realized he was laughing almost as hard as she’d been, and had fallen to one knee.
Bent over his shoulder, she patted the small of his back, and he patted her bottom in return, then pulled her around to perch her upon his thigh. It was secure as a bench and just as stony. She blinked a few times, focusing, and felt the heat in her cheeks. She murmured, for it was all she could manage, “I fed a hair off my head to the spirit of this stream. I think it liked it, so we can fill our cups.”
Sky nodded. His glee had sunk into a quiet smile. This close the demon-blue in his eyes was dark enough to be called black, and the flecks of human-brown were few.
“I didn’t know you could laugh,” Nothing teased.
“Babies have always made me laugh,” he teased back.
With a huff, she pushed to her feet, but a smile tugged at her mouth all morning.
ELEVEN
THEY WERE JOINED THAT day by a trio of pilgrims with fanned hats and long green sleeves, their white faces painted with black stripes. Each wore spirit rings on all their fingers and thumbs, meant to charge with every step they took on their journey.
Nothing did not speak, letting Sky give their pretense of elopement. The two young men and one young woman laughed and offered to share their fire so long as everyone traveled the same road. They’d joined the Cedar Pilgrimage trail from the southwesterly Road of Seeds, and would walk north two days with Nothing and Sky until the Crossroads of Heaven, where the Green Way branched deeper into the rain forest. They’d climb higher as they walked northeast, up into the steep foothills of the Third Mountain, to the zigzagging Canopy Trail that led to the Shrine of All Gods.
The pilgrims sang and told stories as they walked, clearly glad of an audience to practice their favorite tales. They went before Sky and Nothing, like an honor guard. Gali, one of the men, kindly teased Nothing for being shy, and Sky told a distracting story about a mischievous dog spirit that made a bargain for teeth too big for its head. Then he said, “Heia might sing for you when the sun sets, if you ask kindly.”
It took Nothing a moment to realize Sky meant she was Heia. She ducked her head and nodded. Nothing was hardly a name to share. Especially if rumors about the imposter prince had reached ahead of them on the road thanks to witches sending news through the aether or army scouts.
The rain forest, by now, had changed: King-Trees no longer towered over everything, and the canopy had lowered, thickened, with delicious-smelling cedar and spruce trees whose red limbs spread like perfect umbrellas. Clinging balls of sura decorated the lower branches, their heavy hearts dragging their vines into nests of flowers with beautiful pink petals. River birches marked the streams that tucked into the rocky ground, and the moss was striped in every variation of green and blue. Ferns as tall as Nothing unfurled beside the trail; yellow and vivid green birds darted between the moss-patched alders. The woman pilgrim, Sits in Sunlight, pointed out a deer path and the tiny grooves their hooves made in the moss.