Daemon paced near the bridge of a little lake. The Council had divided the Citadel into hundreds of sections, each one manned by large teams of taigas cycling through patrol and sleeping shifts. Bramble, one of the warriors in this lake section, jogged up to Daemon. She was in her thirties and an expert at nunchucks; she’d been one of the apprentices’ sparring teachers. “Good evening, Wolf. Your shift is over. I can take your position.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Did you sleep well?”
“Well enough.”
Daemon nodded. The floor in the boathouse wasn’t the most accommodating of surfaces, but it was better than sleeping out on the dirt, which was what the taigas in a lot of the other sections had to do. It was fine either way, though. Taigas were accustomed to sleeping outdoors while on missions. This was no different; only slightly strange because their actual beds were in the dormitories not too far away.
“Anything notable during your shift?” Bramble asked.
“No. It was a boring day.”
“Well, I doubt that will last for long. The ryuu must be coming.”
Daemon’s stomach pitched.
“Go get some sleep,” Bramble said. “I think the rest of your team are already at the boathouse.”
He nodded stiffly. The taigas were preparing, in the best way they knew how, for Prince Gin. But no matter how much detail Daemon and Broomstick told them about the ryuu and Copper Bluff, there was only so much they could comprehend without seeing the ryuu for themselves. The councilmembers were the only ones who’d gotten a taste of the threat at Isle of the Moon. The rest of the taigas were just, well, bracing themselves.
And then there was the matter of Sora returning. Gods, Daemon hoped he was right that she was on their side. He felt her presence through their gemina bond; she periodically sent him the feeling of steady reassurance, like a lily pad bobbing evenly on a calm pond. There were others, like Bullfrog, who doubted her, but they were wrong. Sora wanted to be the very best taiga she could be, and if anyone understood the desire to prove themselves, it was Daemon.
Besides, she was with Fairy, right? The ryuu had taken the body of who they thought was the empress, as proof that Prince Gin should wear the crown. Sora probably went back to the ryuu to ensure that Fairy was safe.
Daemon closed his eyes. He thought about the day he arrived in Dassu Desert, so exhausted, he wanted to tumble from his horse. He could still feel what it was like when Fairy hugged him, her swan-like chest against his chest, her laughter in the face of death. She had held him up first, and then he’d held her. There was so much life in her. Even when she’d needed support, it had still been like holding a firecracker in his hands.
She was safe, wasn’t she?
Daemon was unraveling like a rope that had been exposed to the elements for too long.
But his shift was over for now, so he held himself together as best he could and bowed to Bramble, then jogged off the bridge to the boathouse, where Broomstick and two Level 7 apprentices had started a pot of oat porridge over a fire outside. The warriors on their shift were reporting to the Council.
“I could eat twigs right now, I’m so hungry,” Daemon said, as he sat down in the dirt.
“Luckily, we don’t have to.” Stingray, one of the younger apprentices, handed him a bowl of sliced apples.
Stingray glared at Wirecutter, another Level 7. “You’re stirring the pot the wrong way. It’s supposed to go clockwise, not counterclockwise.”
“It’s oat porridge,” Wirecutter snapped back. “Right or left won’t make a difference.”
Stingray grumbled.
Everyone was on edge.
The porridge bubbled over. Instead of waiting for the bickering kids to handle it, Daemon grabbed a pair of potholders and took it off the fire.
Despite the bubbling and being stirred the “wrong” way, the porridge had cooked just fine. Daemon ladled steaming portions into bowls and topped them with dried, salted fish and scallions. They ate in silence except for the clacking of utensils and the slurping of porridge.
When they were done, Stingray yawned, and Wirecutter yawned a second after him. They sometimes snapped at each other like brothers, but they were also geminas, and it was as if the fatigue were contagious through their connection.
“It’s been a long watch,” Daemon said, finding some comfort in being the older-brother figure, “and the Dragon Prince is going to arrive any day now. We should all turn in and get some rest while we can.”
“Agreed,” Broomstick said.
Stingray and Wirecutter yawned again and trudged into the boathouse without protest.
“Should we clean up?” Daemon asked.
“Nah,” Broomstick said. “The warriors will be back soon. Just put a lid on the porridge.”
Daemon left the bowls of dried fish and scallions out for the warriors and covered the pot. Then he and Broomstick headed into the boathouse.
He thought it would be hard to get any rest, knowing that Prince Gin and Sora were coming. But the weight of fatigue pressed in on him, and after being on his feet for twelve hours, the sleeping mat felt like a plush down mattress. Daemon crawled under his blanket, and sleep hit him over the head.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Sora and Fairy emerged from the Field of Illusions and faced the grand fortress walls of the Citadel. Sora made herself visible. The particles lowered Fairy onto the ground before her, and her body also reappeared.
They were home. They were safe. Sora finally let herself breathe.
“Who goes there?” the guards shouted as soon as the moon cast its light upon them.
She bowed to the ground and splayed her fingers flat before her. “It is Spirit. I’ve returned with urgent news for the Council on the Dragon Prince’s imminent return. And I’ve brought Fairy, who’s in a rira-induced coma.”
There was no response for a few moments. All Sora could hear was her pulse pounding in her ears.
A long minute later, the iron gates began to open on their silent hinges. Bullfrog, one of the councilmembers, strode out.
“Your Honor,” Sora said, hurrying forward, “I’m so glad to see you. I came to tell you—”
“Save your breath,” Bullfrog said, drawing his sword.
Sora’s heart leaped into her throat. “I don’t understand.”
Except she could. Everything she’d done with the ryuu could be explained, but the truth was less believable than what it looked like from the outside—that she’d been brainwashed by Prince Gin and sent to deceive the taigas.
Bullfrog advanced.
Sora took several steps backward. But she couldn’t pull a weapon on a councilmember. What was she supposed to do?
“Spirit,” Bullfrog said, “you are under arrest.”
She continued to back away. “No, please. Let me explain. I know how to defeat Prince Gin and his army. I came to report to you.”
“Your allegiance cannot be trusted,” Bullfrog said. “You made an attempt on Empress Aki’s life. You murdered Imperial Guards. You are possibly still under the Dragon Prince’s charm, sent here on his orders to mislead us.”
“It’s not true!” Sora turned, looking for another way out.
But several other taigas had descended from the fortress walls. They came at her from all sides, even behind her. She was surrounded.
“I’m sorry to do this,” Bullfrog said as he stepped so close to her, she could smell the remnants of rice and pickled plum on his breath. “But until we defeat Prince Gin and find a way to undo his spell on our taigas, you must be considered a threat. And neutralized.”
Before Sora could protest more, Bullfrog sheathed his sword, choked off her windpipe, and jabbed a needle into her throat.
For an instant, Sora saw stars. And then the stars burst in a blinding explosion, and her knees gave way, dropping her to the ground and flinging her into unconsciousness.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
At first, Daemon dreamed of clouds and clear blue sky.
Soon, though, the clouds began to melt and come back together again, swirling and sliding and changing from white to silver to green. One morphed from a blotch into a green cat. It was like being in the middle of a hallucination. The sky shifted suddenly to green—in fact, everything looked as if he were dreaming through an emerald-tinted lens—and the clouds billowed and started to funnel into Daemon’s head, tickling his temple as the wisps drifted in through his ear and wafted inside his skull.
What is this? Daemon thought.
Somewhere in the back of his head, a girl giggled. It sounded almost like Sora, if Sora giggled. Which she did not. She laughed, but she didn’t giggle.
Daemon, you’re here! the girl said.
What in all hells—? Daemon blinked and shook himself awake.
Even with his eyes open, though, he didn’t see reality. The green-tinged dream pushed on.
Aren’t the stars pretty? the girl said.
Who are you? What’s happening?