“You belong with me,” he said.
Nothing thought suddenly of diving deep, dragging him with her until he had to breathe the cold water. She could, she thought. He would die.
The mouth of the mountain was her mouth, and she could swallow him whole.
For a moment she wanted it.
She wanted it like a fire wanted kindling.
But the lake was too cold and her body numbed, like her skin had diffused out into the water, leaving only her blood and muscles and bones, her heart. Her skin became the lake itself.
Kirin pushed closer, frowning as he took her face in his hands. The shock of his touch on her face put her skin back where it belonged.
Nothing gasped and held his wrists. Her legs kicked hard to keep her at the surface, and she felt the swirl of water as Kirin did the same. “Let’s dress,” she said.
He nodded and let go.
Was that what it meant to believe she’d been a demon? Nothing wondered terribly as she swam. To so suddenly think murder! Drowning. Kill her oldest friend? Who did she love more than Kirin in all the world? Nobody. Her pulse raced and she was grateful to find the sinking shore with her toes and climb out fast.
Kirin was right behind her, a hand between her shoulder blades. He offered her a cloth for drying and wrapped one around himself too. He was quiet, but stared at her, studying her with a very knowing gaze.
They dried and dressed. The prince had brought Nothing a silky blue tunic, black trousers, and a sash to tie it all together. She finger-combed her hair, digging her bare toes into the spiky grass.
When she looked again, Kirin was buttoning a dark-red robe over his shirt, one with a high collar and full skirts that hung past his knees and rustled like a gown. It hugged his ribs and shoulders, baring his arms. The color made his eyes liquid gold, and he twisted his hair into a knot atop his head, tying it with itself.
“You look cold,” Nothing said, noting the pebbled skin of his arms.
“I look beautiful,” he replied.
Nothing’s mouth twitched, and she let herself smile. She thought, The Beautiful Maiden Who Is Also a Prince. “You could be a sorcerer,” she said.
Kirin tilted his head in dismissal. “I will be the Emperor with the Moon in His Mouth.”
“But you could leave it, learn magic. The sorceress believes it. You’re like her, she said.”
“How so?” he demanded, flaring with anger.
Nothing glared at him for speaking to her like that. She’d never glared at him before.
The prince smoothed his features. “How so?” he asked more carefully.
“It’s what you said about us. You’re unexpected. So am I. Not what we seem, and you step fully into that.” Nothing twisted her lips. “That’s where power waits, she said. Potential. Between edges or dualities.”
“Sorcerers are outsiders. I don’t want to be forced out of society for my… potential,” Kirin said. He lifted his chin in an arrogant pose. The sun cast him in vivid contrast: black hair, white skin, red dress. “I want to be what I am and belong.”
Nothing nodded. “What else do you want?”
“Sky. Queens of Heaven, I want him. And I want you at my side too. I want to go home and put on the trappings of men and women, however I like, and I want people to admire me. I want to be myself, I want to show myself to the entire empire, and I want the Moon. I want a vast family, Nothing, and I want to make the empire flourish.”
“They’ll say you’re not pure if you show them yourself. Take the throne from you.”
“After the investiture ritual, they can’t. Then I’ll be acknowledged by the Moon, and no priest or witch or courtier will be able to strip me of my ambitions.”
“The Moon,” Nothing whispered, recalling what the sorceress had said, that the Moon was the great demon, and it was bound to the palace and the empress—and her heir. “That’s the name of the great demon of the palace.”
Kirin studied her for a moment; then he said, “Yes, or part of its name, at least. I won’t know its true name until the investiture. But I was told, under great secrecy, that the prosperity of the empire relies upon the bond between the empress and the great demon. Part of the bond is the continuation of the line, and when I was born I was marked for it. The investiture is the next point of the ritual, when I am accepted pure and strong by the Moon.”
“You risked more than yourself when you—this summer with Sky.” Nothing wasn’t sure if she admired his brazen courage or was horrified.
“No,” Kirin said firmly. “I have spoken at length with the demon itself, though it rarely answers well, but I know—I know in my heart, Nothing—that what we have come to define as purity is not something that concerns the great demon at all. My secrets are dangerous because of the rules of our people, not the Moon.”
She stared at him, believing him. He was radiant in his certainty. That made him easy to follow, to believe in. “I’ll get you home, Kirin. In three days, we’ll be free.”
The prince’s luster faded. “I don’t want you free of me.”
She lowered her gaze to the hem of his dark-red gown. His bare toes sank into the rough grasses. The beds of his toenails were bluish.
He said, “I don’t know how to break a binding I don’t remember creating. And do you know what else the great demon has told me? That a demon can be mastered, but a great demon must agree.”
“You’re making excuses. I’m not complicit in this bond. I didn’t know—I couldn’t have agreed.”
Kirin lifted his brows as if to say, I didn’t know, either, so…
Nothing pursed her lips. “We need to get inside. Did you bring slippers?”
He had, and put them on. They dragged the rest of the discarded clothing and their old tatters with them. Kirin wrapped his pearls around his neck again.
“You gave the imposter the bracelet of hair.”
Kirin skewed a glance at her. He opened his mouth to say something scathing, no doubt, but paused. Glancing at their feet, he seemed to summon courage, and met her gaze again. “I had to save Sky.”
Nothing nodded, hurt but still understanding.
“I had to,” Kirin said again. “I don’t need to worry about you, but I always worry about him.”
“He’s strong.”
“I wouldn’t be, without him,” Kirin whispered.
Nothing wrinkled her nose in disbelief.
“Don’t tell him, please.”
“You should.”
The prince grimaced, but didn’t disagree. They continued on, and he said, “You weren’t born of a mother, were you? So the hair was just between you and me, not a mother you never had.”
It hadn’t occurred to her. She stopped in the shade of the chapel cavern, surrounded by gods and monsters carved of crystal, obsidian, sparkling granite. They all stared at her, judging.
“It mattered,” she said.
“It was a love token, I know that,” he insisted. “And it saved Sky. Thank you.”
Nothing hooked her finger under the black strands encircling her own wrist and jerked with all her strength. It cut into her skin painfully, but snapped. Nothing let it fall to the floor of the cavern.
TWENTY-TWO