Page 18 of The Dragon's Promise

“If the dressing rites do not interest you, I shall help you choose.” Nahma motioned for one of the chests to approach. “What about this one?”

She held up a silk gown in a muted shade of pink that reminded me of the begonia trees at home. Seafoam lace embellished the long fluted sleeves, which were as gossamer-thin as spiderwebs, and countless tiny pearls beaded the skirt. It was the humblest choice by far, but still far richer than anything I’d ever owned.

I gave a reluctant nod, and Lady Nahma reached for my satchel, which had no place among such fine things.

I refused to hand it over. “The Wraith’s pearl is inside. I’m to present it to the king.”

Nahma gave me a wary stare, which I returned.

It wasn’t a lie. I was to present it to the king; I just had no intention of doing so.

“Very well,” she said finally. “You may keep it.”

She didn’t speak to me again until I was dressed, painted and powdered, and properly adorned. A refreshingly speedy process, after which she made a low whistle. It wasn’t a comment of approval on my appearance, as I thought at first, but a summons—

Hundreds of tiny fish swam through the walls. Each carried a glass shard in its mouth, which they pieced together within a wooden frame. When they were finished, the shards fluxed and fused, creating a mirror.

It was taller than me by a head, its glass thick and clean, the frame veined with gold. A strangely familiar magic hummed from within its glass, but the mirror itself didn’t look particularly special, and neither did my reflection.

Nahma had woven an emperor’s ransom of pearls and opals into my hair, and adorned my ears, neck, and wrists with more wealth than all the pirates of Lor’yan might amass in their lifetimes. Still, all the glittering treasures in the sea could not mask the hard defiance in my eyes, or change me from Shiori into a nameless dragon concubine.

I took heart in that. At least for now.

“This is the mirror of truth,” I said.

It wasn’t a question, but Nahma gifted me with a nod. “It is Lady Solzaya’s most prized treasure, won in a wager with one of the first enchanters. Since then, it has been a part of the ceremony’s tradition.”

Dragons do love to gamble, I thought.

“There were only a handful of shards on Lady Solzaya’s necklace,” I remarked. “Why did hundreds appear just now?”

“There are seven shards to Lady Solzaya’s mirror of truth, each of equal sight and power. During the rare occasion that they are not in her possession—for example, a rite such as this—she conceals them among ordinary mirror pieces so that they may not be stolen.”

“Stolen,” I said slowly. “By companions such as yourself?”

“I have no desire to possess the mirror of truth.”

“But weren’t your memories taken away when you made the oath to Ai’long?” I couldn’t help the acidity of my words. “Wouldn’t you want to remember your past?”

The barest flicker crossed Nahma’s features. “The changing is different for all. I happen to remember more than most.” She focused on putting away a pair of hairpins. “It has been a curse as well as a blessing. Some things are best forgotten.”

“What do you remember?” I probed.

For a long time, Nahma said nothing. I had given up hope that she’d respond when finally she replied:

“In my time, things were different. Dragons weren’t legends, and if a nation did not make proper sacrifices to the seas, the dragons would steal its sons and daughters from the shores. Among those given to Ai’long, a few were chosen to become companions through rites of selection.”

I remembered. “Solzaya said that was how you ended up here.”

“Yes. My year, there were twelve.”

Her flat response made me frown. “What happened to the other eleven?”

“I visit them from time to time, whenever I visit this palace.” Nahma’s expression was inscrutable. “They stand in King Nazayun’s weeping garden.”

My throat shriveled as I grasped her meaning. The eleven had been turned to stone.

“Why?” I whispered.

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