Page 73 of A Forgery of Fate

I closed my eyes, suddenly grateful that Elang had sentaway the children of Yonsar. At least Mailoh wouldn’t have to worry about her daughter.

“You should go and help them,” I said.

“My orders are to stay with you.”

“I’ll be fine on my own. Nazayun can’t harm me, remember?”

“Don’t be stupid. The curse might prevent him from killing you, but never for an instant think you’re safe here. That’s how you’ll lose a limb—or two.”

Shani, ever the font of reassurance.

The blasts were fainter in my room, short staccato bursts rather than a continuous stab. But I could still feel the storm intensifying, drawing nearer. Outside, the wall of turtles blocked my view. All I could see were the ribbons of debris that leaked between their shells.

“Why does he hate Elang so much?” I asked, pulling away as another blast struck the castle. “I read that dragons often marry merfolk and humans. Elang can’t be the only one of his kind.”

“But he is,” replied Shani. “Children born of such unions are either dragon…or not. There are no halflings. And in the rare case that one is born, they’re executed at birth.”

“Elang survived,” I pointed out. “Was he spared because his father is Nazayun’s son?”

“He wasn’t spared—he was cursed. Hismotherhad the sense to pretend he was dead and keep him away from Ai’long. She raised him in the desert, as far away from the sea as she could. Still, they were always on the run.”

I tried picturing Elang as a boy, his two faces covered by a black mask. Friendless and alone, with no one but his mother to trust—because anybody could be one of his grandfather’sassassins. It couldn’t have been easy for him, a half dragon growing up in a harsh and arid land—when water was the source of his strength.

“Why won’t he just break his curse?” I asked. “He knows where his pearl is. Why make Yonsar suffer?”

“Because Nazayun’s cruelty isn’t limited to the Westerly Seas. It isn’t even limited to the dragons.” Shani’s red eyes glittered. “You’re just a human, you’re too stupid to understand.”

“Now you sound like Caisan.”

Shani threw me a withering look.

I scooted closer. “Stupid or not, it helps for me to at least try. I’m stuck in Ai’long until I finish Nazayun’s portrait. And I’ve got a feeling there’s some trick to it. Not exactly something he’ll be clamoring to flaunt on his palace walls.”

The demon was silent, and I sensed I’d struck a chord.

“Show me how to paint him,” I said. “Elang said you know him better than anyone.”

“I more than know him,” she hissed. “I’ve spent lifetimes emblazoning his wretched form into my memory.” Her pitch rose with fervor. “In my dreams, I nick off his scales with my talons one by one, and I score the skin from his eyeballs slowly, painfully. Then I smother the light of his sacred pearl and drink his soul.”

What did he do to you?I wondered, but I knew better than to ask.

“Perhaps you’ll have your chance,” I said instead.

“Fate never favors demons,” said Shani through her teeth. “If it did, the Eight Immortals might’ve chosenmeto vanquish Nazayun, not some foolish mortal.”

“The Eight Immortals are involved?” My eyes widened.According to legend, they were a secret council of deities that oversaw peace among the realms.

Shani merely sniffed. “Even a squall sprite has more promise than you. I saw the dragon you painted. It was so ordinary, so boring, sohuman.The least they could’ve done was chosen a master painter, not some tuna-haired swindler.” She shivered into a puff of mist, sliding back into the opal ring. “You’re just a waste of my time….”

Her words were a jab to my pride, yet I wasn’t stung. What she said was true; I wasn’t a master painter. I’d never formally trained, and only by forging the works of less popular artists had I barely been able to make a living.

But I’d capture the Dragon King’s likeness. IknewI could.

“His scales overlap from neck to tail like a fish,” I said aloud quietly, “but not in the head. He’s a snake, in that way.”

The mist swirled within the opal, the only sign that Shani was listening.

“He has roughly ten thousand scales,” I went on. “Nine whiskers—four on the right and five on the left—and his pearl is lodged left of his chest, where it glows like a hazy moon.”

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