“And if they don’t?”
“Then I suppose we’ll have to take matters into our own hands.”
Chapter Eighteen
Sora and Daemon emerged from the unfettered wildness of Takish Gorge only to be greeted by the different sort of wildness of Paro Village. They rode into town, their horses pushing through curtains of flowering vines every few feet. It was difficult to see where they were going.
“This is the strangest-looking town I’ve ever been in,” Sora said. “It’s like they cleared the land a long time ago to build the village, but then the forest came back with a vengeance, and the people didn’t bother to fight back.”
“Maybe we should leave the horses,” Daemon said. “It might be easier on foot.”
They secured their horses to a nearby post and crossed over a mossy bridge to the main street where most of the shops were concentrated. Even here in the center of town, the forest was so thick that they had to elbow their way through the greenery. Sora almost shoved her arm into someone’s face accidentally as she was pushing through some vines.
“I’m sorry!” she said.
The woman laughed pleasantly. She was short and red-nosed from the cold. “It’s all right. It’s a part of life here. Are you a tourist?”
“Not really. We’re looking for the taiga outpost.”
“Oh, of course, silly me.” She nodded at Sora’s and Daemon’s uniforms. “But I’m afraid there are no taigas here, Your Honor.”
Daemon frowned. “What do you mean, no taigas? There’s a Society post here. We received a message from them a few days ago.”
“They went with Prince Gin, to make him emperor! He is so very kind.” She smiled blissfully.
The color drained from Sora’s face. The Dragon Prince had been here.
But the Paro Village taigas wouldn’t support him, let alone leave this outpost unguarded in order to go with Prince Gin. That made no sense. Those who’d fought for him during the Blood Rift were either dead or gone. The taigas who remained in Kichona were on Empress Aki’s side.
Daemon cleared his throat. “You realize that Prince Gin’s sister is still the empress, right?”
The woman shrugged and looked entirely unconcerned. “Prince Gin has picked many here in this village as his Hearts! Including me.”
Sora choked on a breath. “His Hearts?”
The woman beamed and nodded. “Yes! We are to go to the Imperial City soon as special guests for his coronation.”
Sora grabbed Daemon’s arm. “You know what that’s a reference to, don’t you?” she whispered.
“The legend of the Evermore?”
“Yes. And the Ceremony of Two Hundred Hearts.” Sora fought the dizzying sensation of the ground giving way beneath her feet. Prince Gin was tapping people to become his blood sacrifices to Zomuri, so that he would be granted the right to pursue the Evermore. Two hundred men, women, and children, who would cut out their own hearts and offer them to the god, all in the name of glory.
Sora grabbed onto a nearby vine to steady herself.
The woman blinked at them, as if she’d forgotten what Sora and Daemon had been asking her about. “Hey-o, did you say you were tourists? You really should visit the Paro Bakery. They have the most divine persimmon twists, especially if you can get them straight out of the fryer. I think I might go see the baker right now. Would you like to join me?”
“Um, no thank you,” Sora said.
The woman smiled vacantly and drifted off like dandelion seed in the wind, murmuring to herself about persimmon twists.
“Should we try to figure out who all the ‘Hearts’ are here and tie them up or something?” Daemon asked.
Sora shook her head. “We don’t have time. We need to get to the Society outpost to see if the taigas really are gone, and to send a message to the Citadel.”
A man with an ax pushed through the vines on the other side of the street and began crossing the road toward them. But as soon as he saw Sora’s and Daemon’s uniforms, he veered back to the other side of the street and disappeared behind the flower curtain through which he’d come.
The hairs on Sora’s arm stood up. “I don’t like the feeling of this,” she said.
“We’ll find the Society outpost ourselves,” Daemon said. “Paro Village is small. A black building can’t be hard to find among all this green.”
They made their way through town, practically swimming as they pushed aside armfuls of vine. They almost collided with several more people, but again, as soon as their uniforms came into view, the people quickly changed direction.
Sora and Daemon reached the end of the main street and nudged their way through a particularly dense curtain of vines. There was nothing but steep mountain ahead of them.
“I guess the Society building isn’t as easy to find as I thought,” Daemon said, kicking at the rocks at his feet.
But Sora reached over and touched his arm. “Look up.”
Above them, platforms spanned the arms of half a dozen trees. A series of black buildings with black thatched roofs traversed them.
“It’s a tenderfoot’s dream post,” Daemon said, staring in wonder at what was essentially a giant treehouse. A very well-constructed one. The Society outpost here was as unique as the rest of Paro Village.
At that moment, a little face popped up in one of the open windows. “Oh no, it’s the enemy!” he cried out. “Sound the alarm!”
A handful of other children peeked out from various windows. They were just boys and girls playing. Real tenderfoots all lived and trained at the Citadel. But where were the taiga warriors who were supposed to be here? They wouldn’t have let their post be overrun like this.
“Attack!” one of the children yelled.
Acorns hailed down at Sora and Daemon. “Stop!” Sora shouted. “We’re taigas!”
“It’s the enemy! Empress Aki’s taigas are here!” the first boy cried. “Show no mercy!”
The enemy?
More acorns.
“Stand down!” Daemon yelled. “We must speak to the taiga warriors and send a message to the Citadel.”
“The dragonflies are all dead!” a girl from the highest platform shouted. She whirled to the other children. “Keep fighting, everybody!”
A storm of rocks pummeled down from the treehouse this time. They were a lot harder than acorns.
“This is ridiculous,” Sora said, as she ran for cover. Daemon was right behind her. They plowed through the curtain of greenery that had initially blocked their view of the outpost.
When they were shielded from the acorns and rocks, Daemon said, “What in all hells is going on here?”
Sora’s skin crawled as if there were ants beneath the surface. Where had the Paro Village taigas gone in the short span of days between when they sent the dragonfly to the Citadel and now? And why were the people here so fiercely dedicated to Prince Gin?
Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be a way to get any of that information from here.
“Come on,” Sora said, heading back toward their horses.
“Where are we going?” Daemon asked, falling into step beside her.
“Kaede City.” It was south, on the tiger’s leg of Kichona. They’d be able to send off a message to the Citadel. Sand Mine was technically the closer Society outpost, but it was difficult to get to. So Sora chose Kaede City. “Hopefully Prince Gin hasn’t been there already too.”
Chapter Nineteen
What do you think Fairy and Broomstick are up to right now?” Sora asked as they rode along a dirt road. They were halfway to Kaede City and a long way from the Citadel. She was really beginning to miss their friends.
“Fairy has probably accidentally gassed the girls’ dormitory a couple times with experiments gone awry, and Broomstick might have blown another hole in the wall of his room.”
Sora smiled, but then grew serious again. “Do you think they’re worried about us?”
Daemon went serious too. “Yeah. I’m sure they’re worried sick and trying to keep themselves occupied so they don’t have to think about it. But we’ll—”
“Shh.” Sora stuck out her arm to stop him and his horse. There were voices in the distance, and hooves. Lots of them. “Quick, into the woods,” she said.
They yanked their horses into the trees just in time. A caravan of a hundred or so people appeared on the dirt road coming from somewhere inland.
While Daemon hid the horses farther in the forest, Sora crept back out close to the road, staying hidden in the low shrubbery. She lay on her belly as she pulled out a spyglass.
“Is that them?” Daemon asked, when he crawled up beside her.
Sora trained her glass on the banners above the wagons. They were the yellow-and-green flags they’d spied last time at the Takish Gorge camp. Red canvas peeked out from the carts, possibly tents.
“Yes,” Sora said. “It’s them.”
She moved her spyglass to the people then, part of her hoping to see mere dancers, prancing around as if celebrating by a fire. But instead, she saw actual fire. A sphere of it, nearly eight feet tall, rolling at the head of the caravan.
Her mouth hung open. “Gods . . .”
“What is it?”