But of course she doesn’t come.
Beside me, Kenzo peers into the forest. The eerie white stalks of the bamboo trees give off a faint pearl-green glow, and I remember the forest is also covered by the shamans’ enchantments. Before I can ask Kenzo whether that’ll affect us, an earsplitting caw rings out.
Kenzo lifts his finger to his lips.
A large shadow arcs overhead.
Zhin whines. Her sister clutches her tighter. Nearby, Blue is holding Aoki, who is still quiet, though tears flow down her round cheeks as she mouths that same silent prayer: My King. My King.
We wait an agonizing minute for the flying figure to move on. I don’t know whether it’s one of the Tsume, the King’s elite bird demon guard, or one of Qanna’s White Wing. Either way, the demon is looking for us. When they sweep back over the palace with a beat of strong wings, Kenzo motions us forward.
We’ve barely taken a step when there’s another caw.
This time, Zhen isn’t covering her sister’s mouth.
Zhin’s alarmed cry isn’t so loud—but like the snap of a twig in a midnight wood, it carries through the hush.
The bird demon screeches and dives straight for us.
We break into motion, stumbling deeper into the forest. Zhin’s sobs of terror accompany our beating feet and frantic panting. Another cry joins the shriek of the first bird demon. Something whips the canopy overhead. There’s the crack of branches, a scatter of leaves tearing free, and then a winged figure slams down through the forest ceiling.
A girl’s high-pitched scream rents the air.
It all happens too fast to make sense of. We’ve scattered in our panic, and I can’t tell who the scream belongs to until the bird demon—an enormous crow-woman fitted with the Tsume’s golden armor—flaps upward, a girl dangling from her razor-fitted talons.
“Aoki!” I cry.
I propel myself at her, but I’m too late, she’s lifting out of my reach—
There’s a whir of gray fur.
The crow-woman screeches. Cants to one side.
Her wing catches the trees, and she dips, tumbling to the forest ground. Kenzo clings on. He’s lucky the demon hasn’t crushed him, falling instead on her other side. He clambers up to her feathered neck. With a rumbling growl, he drags a blade across her throat.
As the demon’s body goes slack, her talons release, and Aoki rolls free.
I fall over her, pushing her coppery hair from her face. “Aoki!” I shout, all sense of stealth forgotten in my panic. “Aoki, speak to me! Are you hurt? Aoki!”
She groans. Her face is gray. A bubble of blood balloons at the corner of her mouth. My lap feels wet, and I look down to see more blood—glossy torrents of it—gushing from her stomach. While my own hanfu is the usual black with gold trim, Aoki’s is light green, but it’s already turning dark.
There’s so much blood I can’t make out her wound at first.
When I do, the earth drops out from under me.
From nearby comes the clash of talons and metal. Kenzo is fighting the second bird demon. Their whirring movements whip the hair about my cheeks, but I barely notice, crouched over Aoki’s limp body, my tears dripping onto her upturned face. I drag off the pack of supplies Kenzo gave me and empty it desperately, snatching the first roll of fabric I find and stuffing it against her shredded flesh.
It’s soaked through in an instant.
Sobbing, I press the jagged line in her belly where she was caught by one of the crow’s blade-tipped talons, but blood keeps pulsing past my fingers, vanishing them like Ruza’s hand in the wall. Then Kenzo is here, gathering Aoki into his arms, and the other girls are back, muffling their cries at the sight of her, and Blue locks onto my hand with viselike fingers, and we are moving again, dashing through the dark forest, the carrying calls of more bird demons chasing us as we run and run, Aoki’s blood leaving a trail in the soil.
Her ghost-pale face hangs past Kenzo’s shoulder, her lips finally unmoving.
TWENTY-SIX
LEI
I NEED ANOTHER BIT OF FABRIC, this one’s drenched—”
“Here—”
“Keep pressing. Kenzo, could you…?”
“Lei, take care with that part—”
“I’m trying—”
“Oh, gods, there’s blood everywhere—”
“Zhin! Keep your voice down! We can’t have them find us again!”
“Oh, thank you, Zhen, that really helps calm me!”
“Well, it seems nothing will!”
“How come you’re not all panicking? Don’t you realize we just broke out of the palace while killing Madam Himura and a bunch of guards and shamans—I killed a shaman—and Chenna’s dead, and Aoki’s almost—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t you dare say it.”
My snarl shuts Zhin up. I return my full attention to where I’m bandaging Aoki. Her flesh is soft and slick. My fingers slip as I tie the knot. Kenzo holds her wound together so we can make the dressing as tight as possible, while Zhen wipes away blood and Blue tears spare scraps of our clothes into bandages with her teeth, making it look as though she’s been feasting on raw meat.
Zhin wasn’t exaggerating. There’s blood everywhere.
Aoki’s head is cradled in Zhin’s lap, Zhin smoothing her hair with shaky fingers. In the dim light of the forest, Aoki is startlingly pale. Her eyes are shut, her expression calm. Only her complexion and the trickle of blood running from one corner of her mouth make it clear this is no typical sleep.
I slip my fingers to her wrist. Her pulse flutters weakly.
“You’re going to be fine,” I say. “You hear me, Aoki? You’re not going anywhere.”
“Lei,” Kenzo says gruffly. “When she wakes, she’ll need something for the pain. There are herbs in your bag. Mistress Azami packed them in case something like this happened. She said you’d know what to do.”
I go cold. “I emptied the bag when Aoki was injured,” I breathe. “I… I don’t have it.”
There’s a painful silence. We all study Aoki’s ashen face.
I get up. “There must be some herbs around here.”
“You can’t leave!” Zhin hisses. “There’ll be hundreds of soldiers searching for us by now!”
“The diversion will keep them occupied,” Kenzo says.
“We haven’t heard anything for ages,” I point out.
Zhen wraps an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Still, it’s probably best to stick together.”
“I’ll go with her,” Blue snaps. “We’re not helping Aoki sitting around squabbling like aunties over a mahjong bet.” She wipes her red-stained hands on the thin underlayer of her hanfu, leaving smudged prints; like me, she stripped off the outer layer of her robes to use as dressings for Aoki’s injury. The nighttime chill pricks goosebumps across her skin.
I nod at her, then turn to the others. “We won’t go far.”