Page 284 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

She did not deserve to be addressed as a lady, or given fine chambers. This peace could not last.

When she was clean, Tané dressed. An undershirt and a black silk tunic, then trousers, socks, and snug cloth boots. A sleeveless blue coat, trimmed with fur, came next, and finally the case on a new sash.

Her heart stumbled when she thought of facing Nayimathun. Her dragon had seen the blood on her hands.

Someone had left a crutch by the door. Tané took it and stepped out of her bedchamber, into a passageway of latticed windows and richly paneled walls. Painted constellations glinted at her from the ceiling. Dark stone paved the floors, heated from beneath.

Outside, she beheld a courtyard of such immensity that it could have housed a shoal of dragons. Lanternlight burned through an ashen mist. She could just see the great hall, raised on a terrace of layered marble, each tier a darker shade of blue.

“Soldier,” Tané said to a guard, “may this humble one ask how to find the Twilight Gardens?”

“Lady,” he said, “the Twilight Gardens are in that direction.”

He motioned to a distant gateway.

It took an eternity for her to traverse the courtyard. The Hall of the Fallen Star loomed above her. Tomorrow, she would be inside it, standing before the head of the House of Lakseng.

More guards directed her through the grounds. Finally, she reached the correct gate. The snow had been shoveled from the courtyard, but here it had been left untouched.

The Twilight Gardens were a legend in Cape Hisan. At dusk, they were said to come alive with lightflies. Night-blooming flowers would sweeten the paths. Mirrors stood here and there to direct the moonlight, and the ponds were still and limpid, the better to reflect the stars.

Even by day, this retreat was like a painting. She walked slowly, watched by statues of past Lacustrine rulers and their consorts, some of them accompanied by young dragons. Each consort held a pot of creamy yellow-pink roses. There were season trees, too, dressed in white for winter, reminding Tané of Seiiki. Of home.

She crossed a bridge over a stream. Through the fog, she could see pine trees and the shoulder of a mountain. Walking between those trees for long enough would take her to the Lake of Long Days.

Nayimathun was coiled in the snow on the other side of the bridge, the end of her tail swirling through a lotus pond. Loth and Thim were deep in conversation in a nearby pavilion. Tané collected herself. When she was close, Nayimathun huffed cloud through her nostrils. Tané laid down the crutch and bowed.

“Great Nayimathun.”

A low growl. Tané closed her eyes.

“Rise, Tané,”the dragon said. “I told you. You must speak to me as you would to a friend.”

“No, great Nayimathun. I have been no friend to you,” Tané raised her head, but there was a stone in her throat. “The honored Governor of Ginura was right to exile me from Seiiki. You were on the beach that night because of me. All of this happened because you chose me, and not one of the others, as your kin.” Her voice quavered. “You should not speak kindly to me. I have killed and lied and served myself. I ran from my punishment. The water in me was never pure.”

The dragon tilted her head. Tané tried to stay facing her, but a rush of shame made her drop her gaze.

“To be kin to a dragon,” Nayimathun said, “you must not only have a soul of water. You must have the blood of the sea, and the sea is not always pure. It is not any one thing. There is darkness in it, and danger, and cruelty. It can raze great cities with its rage. Its depths are unknowable; they do not see the touch of the sun. To be a Miduchi is not to be pure, Tané. It is to be the living sea. That is why I chose you. You have a dragon’s heart.”

A dragon’s heart. There could be no greater honor. Tané wanted to speak, to deny it—but when Nayimathun nuzzled her as though she were a hatchling, she broke. Tears dripped down her cheeks as she wrapped her arms around her friend and shook.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you, Nayimathun.”

A contented rumble answered her. “Let go of your guilt now, rider. Do not spend your salt.”

They stayed like that for a long time. Shudders racked Tané as she pressed her cheek against Nayimathun. She had carried a nameless weight on her shoulders since Susa had died, but it was no longer too heavy to bear. When she could breathe without weeping, she moved her hand to where Nayimathun had been wounded. A metal scale now covered the flesh, engraved with wishes for healing.

“Who did this?”

“It no longer matters. What happened on the ship is in the past.” Nayimathun bumped her with her snout. “The Nameless One will rise. Every dragon in the East can feel it.”

Tané dried her tears and reached into the case. “This belongs to you.”

She held out the rising jewel in the palm of her hand. Nayimathun gave it a delicate sniff.

“You say it was sewn into your side.”

“Yes,” Tané said. “I always had a swelling there.” Her throat felt tight again. “I know nothing of my family, or why they would have put it into my side, but on the island, one of thePursuit’s crew saw the jewel. He said I was the descendant of . . . Neporo.”

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