He said it so deadpan that I blinked. “Megari?”
“Who else?”
I laughed, picturing his sister washing away one of his stern moods with a well-aimed snowball. Megari and I were of the same ilk, wise but depraved souls. “No wonder we’re your favorite people.”
“So you are,” he replied with a grin, “though my sister often makes me regret it.”
“I won’t,” I swore. “I’ve no snowballs up my sleeve. Only…”
“Paper birds?”
I smiled. “Only paper birds.”
My hand was still on his arm, and Takkan took it, interlacing my fingers with his own. In that simple gesture, we were reconciled. And though the silence between us grew, I found strength in the words we left unspoken.
* * *
Gen looked much better the next day. He sauntered alongside Takkan and me, the wind mussing his curls, a touch of sunburn on his cheeks. If he had any inkling that I was up to something, he said nothing. Which worried me. I’d grown used to his incessant chatter.
“Shiori!” Hasho shouted as we approached the Sacred Lake. “Did all those cookies at breakfast turn your legs into jelly? We’ve been waiting for you!”
My brothers were assembled in a line. On each of their faces was a variation of the same proud grin, and when I drew close, they parted to reveal their creation.
“Behold,” declared Yotan, gesturing behind him. “It’s finished!”
It was a flying basket!
Mostly round and shaped like a large fishing creel, it looked far sturdier than the old basket we’d flown to Mount Rayuna: its sides were constructed of a simple weave of thin bamboo strips, while the base was reinforced with cedar planks.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathed. “Looks tough, too.”
“You haven’t seen the best part yet,” said Yotan. “Gen!”
Right on cue, the young sorcerer shouted, “Fly!”
Six richly woven ropes jetted up from inside the basket, their ends rising into the sky and bending with the wind.
I clapped, marveling. So that was what Qinnia had done with all those silk robes. “It’s a kite!”
Gen smirked. “Reminds me of Solzaya’s octopus.”
I saw the resemblance, now that he mentioned it, and it made me laugh.
“We figured there was no Summer Festival this year,” said Hasho, “and it is tradition for us to make a kite together. We’ve waited for you to make the last knot.” He passed me a silken rope. The seventh and last to be tethered to the basket.
The request was a nod to my name, which literally meant “knot.” My mother had named me thus, knowing I was her seventh and last child, the one who would bring my brothers together no matter how fate pulled us apart.
I ran my hands along the rope’s woven red cloth, recognizing my old winter robes. A pair of embroidered crane eyes peeked at me from the silk, which made me smile as I tied the last knot to the basket. Then, after a breath, I let go.
As if it had wings, the seventh rope flew up to join the others. I knew it was Gen’s magic that carried them, but the sight still filled me with awe. I lifted my arms to the sky, mimicking the ropes and reaching as high as I could.
“What are you doing?” Hasho asked.
“Stretching,” I said. “Taking a moment to breathe and listen to the wind sing. Remembering what it’s like to be home and bask under a familiar sun.”
I settled my arms back at my sides. Near my feet was a crate of supplies Wandei had brought, and I bent down, picking up a handful of paintbrushes. I tossed a brush to each of my brothers. “The basket’s looking a bit plain,” I said with a wink. “How about we do some painting, like old times?”
The rest of the afternoon, we decorated the basket with designs from kites we had built together over the years—a turtle, catfish, fox, and rabbit. And on the bottom of the basket, Takkan wrote, in elegant calligraphy, Seven knots strong.
No one said anything about demons or priestesses or pearls; it really was like a Summer Festival day, except without all the food. I didn’t mind. Simply being with my brothers again, the way we’d been before the curse, was precious.
At some point, Gen retreated alone toward the Sacred Lake. I made an excuse to my brothers and followed after him. If Gen noticed, he didn’t turn around. He kept walking along the lake, and I skirted the bank to peer beneath the water.
Did you bring rice cakes? I could almost hear Seryu asking. No? Then you’ll have to wait a while longer to see me, Princess.
His voice, his smirk, his usual disdain were all in my imagination. No silver horns pierced the water, no serpentine tail glittered with emerald scales. No Seryu.
I’d barely been back a week, and already my days in Ai’long felt like a lifetime ago. Lady Solzaya, King Nazayun, and Elang were little more than a dream. Seryu’s friendship, a distant memory. I wondered whether Gen’s would be too.
The boy had claimed a spot on the bank and was tossing pebbles into the lake. Once, twice, thrice they skipped.
I sidled up to him. “Looking for dragons?”
The lake rippled at the sound of my voice, and Gen met my gaze through our reflection. “This is where you met Seryu, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Where he saved me from drowning, yes. Afterward, we used to meet here for magic lessons.”
“Doesn’t seem like he taught you much.”
I glowered, and Gen put up his hands. “I’m joking! Mostly.” He sighed, fidgeting with the new bandage on his nose.
“What’s the matter?”
“It’s probably for the best that you aren’t taking me to Lapzur. For a great sorcerer, I seem to need a lot of saving.”
It was my turn to sigh, and I pulled him to his feet. “Come now, there’s no use in moping. It’s a glorious summer afternoon, not too hot, not too humid. We should enjoy it.”
I kicked gently at his shins, forcing him to walk along the lake. “Why did you seek the dragon realm? You never finished your story, after the part where Elang asked you to steal Solzaya’s mirror.”
My question won a small grin from him. “It started with a dare,” replied Gen. “No one’s seen a dragon in centuries. My friends at school said they didn’t exist anymore. I disagreed. So they dared me to dive into the sea and bring back proof of one.”
“You sought Ai’long out because of a dare?”
“Because of honor!” Gen said with panache.
“And a dragon pearl, if I recall correctly.”
Gen cracked his knuckles. “It’s one of the only ways to gain power without taking an enchanter’s oath. No sorcerer’s been able to acquire one.”