Page 85 of The Dragon's Promise

“No.”

A grumble huffed out of the boy’s lips, but to my relief, he obeyed.

When I arrived at the temple, I was sure that sending Gen away had been the right decision. Every minister and lord of the first rank had come. They were fanning themselves in unison to combat the heat. They reminded me of the dragons, thirsty for a spectacle. The worst was Chief Minister Hawar. Here he was, buzzing merrily with his other hornets, as if he hadn’t called for my death only yesterday.

When the procession delivered me to the red cushion opposite Takkan, I sagged into my spot as though I’d traveled for hours, not minutes.

He slipped me a smile before we assumed our customary positions. How silly we both looked. Takkan with silver and gold tassels dangling in front of his eyes, me with my burdensome headdress and veil. And our robes! We looked like caravans.

It was adorable—and strangely fitting that we were suffering through the ceremonial rigmarole together. I wished I could reach for his hand and tell him so.

“On this ninth day of the firefly month,” High Priest Voan began, “we assemble to bind together the fates of Shiori’anma, beloved princess of Kiata and only daughter of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Hanriyu, and Lord Bushi’an Takkan, son of and heir to the prefecture of Iro.”

The palace priests and priestesses surrounded Takkan and me, carrying a long red ribbon and chanting prayers in Old Kiatan. I wanted to hear what they were saying, but it was impossible over the drumming.

Around and around, the priests and priestesses spun, whirling the ribbon over our heads. Nine times they would walk around us, the number of eternity. During our marriage ceremony, that same ribbon would be knotted to seal our promise to one another.

The spinning was starting to make me dizzy, so I focused my attention on the window behind Takkan. A cloud drifted over the sun, and darkness slithered into the temple, accompanied by a rhythmic rushing that made the roof shudder.

No one else seemed to hear it. Or feel it. But the sweat beading at my neck soon evaporated, replaced by the same icy chill I’d felt in the Holy Mountains.

Kiki? I reached out with my mind. My bird had decided at the last minute to sit with Hasho instead of me. Tell me you feel that. The cold.

Cold? she buzzed. My beak is getting soggy from all this humidity.

I wasn’t listening anymore. Darkness unfurled through the temple, black as ink and heavy as a shroud. Too soon it enveloped Father, the high priest, even Takkan.

I was next. My hands were clasped primly over my skirt, and as I looked down at my lap, a tide of shadow crept upon me, drowning the embroidered cranes and staining the beaded flowers black.

Congratulations, Shiori’anma.

The voice came from Father’s direction. I looked up in dread. Smoke from the braziers outside curled in through the windows, its tendrils hooking around the emperor’s throat until his eyes were red.

I stared in horror. I started to rise from my knees, but the priests were still performing the ribbon-wrapping ritual. My headdress jangled, its jeweled strands chiming like alarm bells.

With a blink, Father’s eyes were his own again. But my heart was racing, and I reached instinctively toward my hip, forgetting that I’d given my satchel to Hasho.

What’s the matter? Takkan mouthed. His eyes swirled dark with worry.

I needed to stay calm. Everyone was watching. I couldn’t make a scene.

Nothing, I mouthed back.

I bowed my head low, trying to convince myself I’d imagined it. Determined to focus on the ceremony.

Six, I counted, marking the times the ribbon had crossed Takkan and me. Seven.

During the ninth and final turn, a lash of cold caressed my cheek, and muscle by muscle my body went rigid.

No pearls on your betrothal day? Bandur purred. His voice sent shivers down my neck, like a chilled blade pressed to the skin. A pity; they become you. One in particular.

My eyes flew in every direction, but I couldn’t find him. Where was he? Who was he?

I clenched the edge of my skirt. You’re brazen for coming here. This is sacred ground. The high priest and—

Their pitiful prayers might ward away a common demon, but I am a king.

Hardly a king when you’re tethered to the mountains, I retorted. Even if I gave you the pearl, you wouldn’t be able to hold it.

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