Seryu’s red eyes flashed. “I’m doing my best to help you. The least you could do is pretend to like me. Or is not humiliating me in front of my entire family too much to ask?”
“Is not killing me in front of your entire family too much to ask? Or does it not count, since I’ll be reborn stronger and better?”
Seryu hung back as if stung, and I almost regretted my harsh words. Almost.
“I never should have said that,” he said, his red eyes downcast. “I’m sorry.”
The plaintive chord in his voice struck me, and though I wanted to stay angry, the fire in my temper went out. “I know you didn’t mean for things to go this way.”
For a short eternity, he leaned over the ridged edge of our cloud, his arms folded. When he spoke again, his voice was low. “You wouldn’t be a concubine, you know. You’d be my bride. My equal.” He went on quickly, before I could reply. “I know that doesn’t make it much better, but I thought you should know.”
I leaned forward too and glanced down at the hundred dragons. They were watching. “Seems annoying gossipy relatives aren’t unique to the mortal realm.”
“Indeed not,” said Seryu, still pensive. “A dragon’s binding ceremony is one of our oldest rites. It’s supposed to be founded on love and trust, but more often than not, it serves as a mere transaction.”
I had some experience with that.
“I didn’t want mine to be that way,” he confessed. “I was hoping, if it turned out to be you, that you would want to be here. Because you cared for me.”
“I do care for you.”
It was the truth, and I thought of our summer together, idling by the Sacred Lake and exchanging quips about magic and sorcery. I cared for him then, and I still cared for him now.
“Would it be so bad, staying with me?” he said quietly. “I’d make sure you were safe. I could do that for you. I’ve always done that for you. I deserve a fair chance, don’t I?”
He did, and I’d be lying if I said I had given him one.
At my silence, Seryu reached for my hand. I let him rest his palm on mine. His skin was cold, but not in an unpleasant way, and I felt the tiniest spark as his green nails curled gently around my fingers.
I gazed at our hands. What if I did stay in Ai’long? Would it be so tragic, marrying Seryu? He was handsome and fun…and fond of me. Maybe even in love with me.
I’d be a princess of dragons with sparkling gills on my neck and arms. I’d chase turtles and whales with Seryu, get on Solzaya’s nerves as often as I could, try on magical dresses with Lady Nahma, and uncover all of Ai’long’s secrets. I’d live forever.
No one here would think twice about me being the bloodsake. Like Seryu said, Kiata might even be safer if I didn’t return. Father could find a sorcerer who’d seal Bandur back into the mountains, and that would be the end of it. The demons would be trapped forever, and no more bloodsakes would die. Magic would stay buried in Kiata, just like everyone wanted. Instead of being blamed, I’d become a legend.
“Kiss me,” I murmured to Seryu.
Seryu stared at me, thunderstruck. But he nodded, and the dragons cheered, drumming their claws on their coral balconies as he bent forward.
His hand was still on mine, and his lips were just a breath away. My heart hammered in my chest. I’d kissed plenty of boys before. What difference did it make to kiss Seryu?
The difference came stampeding into my thoughts.
Takkan.
I breathed out, my heart suddenly light and heavy all at once.
More than anything, I wanted to throw my arms around Takkan. I wanted to see his shoulders square with embarrassment when I quoted passages from letters he wrote me as a boy, to rest my chin on his shoulder and fall asleep to the lilt of his songs. To catch him staring when I wasn’t looking, and tease him until the corners of his warm eyes crinkled.
To finally tell him I loved him.
But if I ever returned to Kiata, I’d be branded a sorceress—and blamed for Bandur escaping the mountains. Was a future with Takkan even possible?
All I knew was that I’d risk everything to find out.
I turned my cheek. “Wait—” I started to say, but I didn’t need to. Seryu had seen the emotions warring on my face. He was already retreating. Before I could explain, he sank back in his seat and crossed one leg over the other.
“You know, I prefer not to kiss princesses in pink,” he demurred, waving off the disappointed crowds below with a semi-believable smirk. “Something about the color just isn’t…alluring.”
He was trying to save his pride, and I knew I should let it go. But I couldn’t.
“It’s not you.” I faltered, my words all twisted and knotted. “You know it isn’t.”
“Part of me hoped you wouldn’t say that.” He touched my cheek, then let his hand fall back to his lap. “It was worth a try. Hold on to that lordling of yours when they make you drink. They say your last thought is the only memory you keep.”
The elixir! I had almost forgotten about it. “Seryu, how do I…”
Instead of answering, Seryu plucked Kiki off the railing and set her on my collar. His response was so low I almost didn’t hear him. “Stay hidden.”
I didn’t know whether that was meant for me or for Kiki, and I never got a chance to ask.
A distant chime pealed, the sound reverberating around the dome. The ceremony was beginning.
Out of a cloud of shimmering sand, the Dragon King burst into the hall. He still wore the starstroke net, styled into a sash around his waist. It radiated with demonfire, the strands of fate, and the blood of stars—the three magics I had labored for months to interweave.
Under Nazayun’s feet emerged a dais—constructed of whale and shark skulls. Kiki shuddered at the sight.
Why would anyone want to work for him? she whispered to me, glancing at the swarms of sharks and squid patrolling the chamber.
Because they didn’t have a choice, I thought as the Dragon King took his throne.
Lady Nahma had warned me that the rites would be quick, but I was still expecting some sort of pompous introduction. None came, and my cloud rattled, rising until it was level with the Dragon King’s throne.
Beside the king, Lady Solzaya and Lady Nahma waited, poised like mistress and handmaiden. Seryu’s mother held a bowl carved of abalone shell in her long palm, and Nahma held a thin silken cord. The latter was a nod to Kiatan wedding traditions, where the bride and groom were knotted together.
Takkan and I would have been married like this, I thought with a pang. If only I hadn’t run away from our betrothal ceremony, how different life might have been.
“Come forward, Shiori’anma,” Lady Solzaya said, shattering my reverie. Her iron grip claimed my arms, and I floated with her to the Dragon King’s dais. Seryu started to follow, but Solzaya motioned for him to remain.