They waited a moment as the thin fish darted away and the eddies of water swirled against Nothing’s fingers. It was cold but refreshing.
Then the water was an undulating body, sinuous and scaled. The dragon rose from the river long enough to twine around the top tower of the palace. It had scales like silver and sunlight-on-water, massive blue eyes, and its lipless mouth parted to show Nothing a pink tongue and sickle-sharp teeth. Wide, silver-feathered wings rose in twinned arcs, blotting out the bright sky. It had three slithering tails, four legs that ended in claws gouging the sand and air, and hard white-capped ridges down its back like rolling waves of water. Feathers flared off its eyes and along its neck, continuing down its silver-white stomach in the kind of rainbows that appeared around the sun or in a drop of oil. It hissed and said, “I am Selegan, and I know you.”
Assuming it remembered Sky, Nothing bowed deeply and kept silent for her companion to speak.
But Sky cried in shock and said, “You are the dragon that stole Kirin from me!”
The great blue eyes blinked slowly, and the dragon rippled its scales. Nothing got the distinct impression that was its version of a shrug.
“I thought you were her demon or familiar, not a river spirit! How can you ally with such a creature?” Sky drew his sword.
The dragon reared back on its hindquarters, dipping its nose like a disapproving tutor. “She saved me,” it said. Though its size lent a depth and noise to its voice, Nothing thought it spoke softly. Gently, even. “When my waters slowed, cut off from my long bed by the cold lava. I was a trickle, a new, ugly, sucking lake, and soon would have become a demon. But she saved me.”
Nothing glanced at the place where it seemed the lava field had been shoved back in a frozen, solid wave.
“And so you deliver princes into her clutches?” Sky demanded. “Do you collect maidens for her, too, hearts ready to be devoured?”
“Sky,” Nothing murmured, but the bodyguard gripped his sword in both hands and lifted it so that the wide blade caught sunlight. It flared.
“This human desires to fight me,” the dragon said. “You can never have your prince back.”
“Why?” Nothing asked.
“I will have him back!” Sky yelled as he charged.
His feet splashed heavily in the river, sending up spray that flashed in the sun like his sword, like the dragon’s scales. Nothing shaded her eyes even as she cried his name.
The dragon reached to pluck him up, but Sky turned, slashing his sword against the dragon’s paw. The blade screeched against the scales, then penetrated: silver-blue blood dripped into the river.
Sky did not let up, but drove toward the dragon’s feathered belly.
The dragon leapt into the air, twisting over Sky. It swung a tail and batted Sky downriver; the bodyguard stumbled but dug in his feet and did not go down. Water gushed against his waist, slowing Sky as he yelled wildly at the flying dragon.
Nothing watched, horrified, but did not think she should stop either of them. It was Sky’s choice, Sky’s burden—though if he died, Kirin would never forgive her.
Sky fought on, slashing at the dragon, who dipped and darted as much as a creature that size could. Soon it bled from several gashes, and Sky’s shoulder bled too, vivid purple blood that soaked his shirt, vanishing below the quilted outer robe. Sky panted; the dragon’s color flushed silver-gold and mottled blue. Several scales flaked off and dropped into the river, where they became dark water.
Demon-kissed strength gave Sky more endurance than any regular human, and he caught the dragon’s feather beard in one hand, hauling himself up with a furious cry. He dug his sword into the dragon’s neck. With all his strength he shoved it into the hilt, and the dragon bellowed in surprise, whipping its head.
Sky was thrown against the shore. He hit hard, grunting, and then gasped openmouthed for air. Nothing flung herself to her knees beside him, crying his name. Blood made his teeth purple as he grimaced.
The sword remained lodged in the dragon’s neck. It crouched on the opposite bank and pulled the sword carefully out. Then it tossed the sword into the river. It seethed through its teeth, dripping silver-blue blood. Tendrils of hot breath curled around its fangs and lifted like spirits into the air.
Sky coughed and cried in pain. “Nothing, something is—is broken inside me.”
“Be still. Be still and let me bargain,” she said, trying not to sound desperate. “It is my turn.”
“If he’s—if Kirin is—”
“Stop,” she hissed, touching his mouth.
Sky closed his eyes and a tear fell down his temple. Just a tear, clear as water, though a part of Nothing expected it to be as purple as his blood.
“Do better than I did,” he said.
Nothing stood and looked across the river to the dragon.
It stared back at her—no, not at her, at Sky.
Suddenly the dragon was smaller, and it dove into the water, flicking all three tails for momentum, and it crawled out, encircling them both.
“Do not try to eat him or kill him,” Nothing commanded.
The dragon said, “He is becoming water.”
Nothing swallowed fear. She took a deep breath. “Selegan, I don’t want him to die. What can I bargain for his life?”
But the dragon leaned nearer to Sky. Now its head was the size of a plains horse’s head, long and broad, and its mane of feathers and scales glimmered like oil rainbows.
Sky turned his face to it, grimacing in pain, and said, “I will not curse you for my death, but if Kirin is dead, I will haunt you for all time, dragon.”
“He is not dead,” the dragon replied. Its crystalline-blue eyes stared at Sky’s cheek. “May I have a taste of your water?”
When Sky frowned, Nothing thought of her tiny dragon-lily spirit and its fondness for her tears.
“If he allows it, will you heal him?” she asked.
“If he allows it, I will forgive his trespass into my waters and the wounds to my flesh.”
Sky managed to whisper, “There will be plenty more of my tears to come, I think.”
The dragon flicked its tongue, bright pink and skinny as a garden snake. It touched Sky’s face, licking his temple and cheek, and the dragon shivered. The sound vibrating from it was like the purr of a very large cat.
Nothing crouched, lifting her hand to touch the silver-gold scales that rippled against the dragon’s long neck.
But the dragon said, “Mistress,” and the sky turned black.
Turning, Nothing saw tendrils of perfect darkness spreading like a cold wind, bright eyes—one green, one white—and a smile that curved crimson over sharp, jagged teeth. She saw lava fields coursing in hot rivers, crystals cut into knives, and she heard a single heartbeat so loud it cracked her skull.
And Nothing fell asleep.
THIRTEEN
IN THE HEART OF the Fifth Mountain, the Sorceress Who Eats Girls smiled down at the sleeping body of the most beautiful maiden in the empire. He curled upon a grass-woven pallet in the remnants of his lovely silk dress, rather like a pile of expensive rags. His ribs lifted slowly, calmly, and in sleep his black lashes were ink stains against his pallid face. Even his lips were colorless. Kirin Dark-Smile was drained to stark, sick whiteness, a dreary reflection of the moon against the hard black of his hair and all those bold rainbow silk tatters. The sorceress wondered if his mother and her court would approve of this dramatic contrast brought on by Kirin’s weakness.