Shine had gripped his hand and said, “I will protect you from a measly great demon who never does anything but roll over and complain about itches!”
Kirin had laughed hoarsely, eyes bright with anxiety.
“And,” Shine continued, “if the worst happens, you and Sky will go with me to the sorceress and we’ll build a cottage next to the mirror lake!”
The prince had avoided her eyes then, and Shine assumed it was because he was embarrassed to long for such a thing, even for only a moment.
Their party arrived at the palace bedraggled. The high lacquered black wall of the seventh circle loomed, capped by red-and-white arrow-shaped spikes, between which warriors stood guard. Rain tapped on the lacquered helmets and leather shoulder pieces.
Shine reached up and brushed the bare skin at the nape of Kirin’s neck. It was damp and cold, but he nodded once, slightly. This was the first moment he feared.
They paraded under the long gates, and Shine reached for the tunnel wall to tickle the great demon, but she could not quite touch it. The tunnel led into the wide stone garden. Here the dreary rain had kept courtiers and residents of these lower circles inside. Servants dashed across the gravel to take the horses, leading them to cover near the barracks. Kirin and Shine were surrounded, nearly pulled off the yellow-milk horse.
The moment her foot touched the gravel, a roar erupted from the very walls of the palace.
Every warrior reacted by getting a weapon in their hand, and the horses screamed, tugging to be freed. Immli the witch drew his wand and his mouse demon vanished. Sky grabbed Kirin’s shoulders, pulling him into a crouch half beneath Sky, while the bodyguard looked all around for danger.
But Shine knew.
It was the great demon of the palace.
She threw herself toward the red-washed wall, slapping her palms flat. Power stripped across her flesh, and she cried out, sinking to her knees with a scream. It would not reject her prince! She would rather destroy it!
“Nothing!” someone yelled—Sky—and then Kirin said, “Shine!” and his hands were on her shoulders. “Night Shine,” he commanded in her ear, chest pressed to her back.
“Demon,” she said, throat raw.
Kirin pulled at her, but she shook her head, rolling her shoulders through the thick strokes of pain.
The world roared again.
what are You?
The voice drummed hard and low through the courtyard.
It wasn’t rejecting Kirin; it was after Shine.
“Great demon of the Palace of Seven Circles,” she said, and she leaned forward, though every hot, fiery piece of her demanded she flee. She kissed the wall. “Demon, I was your friend,” she murmured. “I am not here to take anything. I… Please. I used to tickle your walls with my fast fingers and tripping toes. I promised when I came home that we would fix the patch in your roof that aches when it rains.”
Nothing where is Nothing You are not Nothing You are Something.
“Night Shine,” she said. “My name is Night Shine. I left and found my old house, great demon. This is my new house. I was Nothing, but now I am full of stars and the rainbow colors in between them. Night Shine.”
The pain faded. Shine did not move her raw, hot hands.
Night Shine. Night. Shine.
“Yes.”
A cry of alarm from behind her made Kirin move, and she did too.
Turning slowly on fever-aching bones, Shine looked up from her knees at a living shadow. It was spiky, vaguely person-shaped, with rippling wings the size and sharpness of spruce trees. It filled the rock garden, dark and shifting even as it held perfectly still. Then it crouched, leaning toward Shine. Seven eyes whirled blue-black-violet, round as seven moons, and it opened a jagged mouth above those eyes, tasting the air with seven tongues.
Shine tried to take calm breaths, but she tasted it too: lightning-strike, burned hair, very old, overripe blackberries.
“May I stay?” she asked it. “I was your friend and would be again. This was my home, and your prince—this prince who one day will rule this house—is my friend. Do you know him?”
The shadowy figure flicked six of its seven eyes at Kirin, holding her with that one.
stay but do not take, it said in seven voices layered like a chorus of children. for the dark smile.
“I will not take from you, or yours,” Shine promised. “For Kirin.”
The great demon of the palace flicked its tongues and set long arms down, wicked claws digging into the pink gravel.
“You know me,” she reminded it.
if I must, I will fight You for Your true name. do not make Me.
“I promise,” she said, standing on rickety knees. She held out a hand, palm up.
The demon leaned its large head down and tasted her skin, two tongues curling around her fingers. It breathed hot over her wrist, slithering up to pool in her elbow.
Shine was unafraid, and amazed at herself for it. She smiled.
Then the demon shrieked in her face, accept, and blasted apart in shards of black and purple glass that skittered and burst but did not hurt anyone. They clinked to the gravel and shattered anew on boulders, passing harmlessly through flesh.
Shine remained breathless and smiling.
Kirin reached her first. He grinned. “I’ve never seen it before! Only heard. I don’t think anyone has seen our great demon in two generations!”
Sky glared at her.
Shine resisted smarting off to him, but barely. She’d done just fine! And Kirin had passed whatever first test he’d feared when the great demon looked at him and did not reject him.
The captain of the Warriors of the Last Means asked if Kirin was well. His face beneath his helmet was flushed a rich copper, but his expression remained solid. He did not look at Shine.
Well. She was used to being ignored, just not because she had power. It felt excellent.
“I am more than well,” Kirin said. “My new sorceress and I are welcomed back with quite the fanfare.” His words would hopefully plant seeds in the inevitable rumors to angle them his way. Kirin realized he still had the gifted umbrella shoved into his sash and tossed it to one of the palace attendants. He ordered that it be taken to his rooms.
Immli held his tiny demon mouse in his hand, cupped against his stomach for comfort, and watched Shine with too much speculation.
But they were ushered on, and passed through the seventh, sixth, and fifth circles of the palace before Kirin balked. He dug in his heels and demanded a moment to catch his breath and fix his hair before being dragged to his mother.
He was obeyed of course, and he shook off the wet cloak. Shine sat him down on a stool in the curving antechamber to the fourth circle’s greeting hall. Sky made quick work of rebinding Kirin’s topknot. It was the most he’d touched Kirin in days. They did not have time to powder his face, but Shine touched up the black lines around his eyes and dabbed paint onto his lips again for perfect contrast.
Both Shine and Sky nodded encouragingly at him, and Kirin drew himself to his full height. “I’m ready.”
“You look magnificent,” Shine said. She still wore the thin wool clothing The Scale had put her in, in so many shades of blue, and her hair now was a mess, but she didn’t care.
“Shine, you have little shards of the great demon caught in your hair,” Sky said disapprovingly, when he noticed her touching the ragged ends.