Page 18

The entrance to Elang’s home was carved between two cliffs, camouflaged by rock and shadow.

I would never have seen it, if not for one detail.

Under the foggy mist, round stones studded the mountainsides, each splotchy and dull.

Not stones at all, I soon realized, but turtle carapaces!

“The Gate of a Thousand Shells,” said Elang, preempting my question.

“One of the great marvels of Ai’long. It has long been the stronghold of Yonsar, impenetrable since the First Era.”

“It’s impressive,” I allowed, for there was no other word to describe it.

What I’d taken to be a wall was actually rows of turtle shells stacked atop one another, so precisely that not a glimmer of light shone through their shells.

Before I could express more admiration, a low horn blew from within.

An orderly line of turtles rolled out to greet us.

They stood to attention, necks craning in uniform stature, their heads bent respectfully low.

I tried to smile at them as I passed, but not one smiled back.

I doubted they even saw me.

Elang could have brought back a toad for a wife and no one would have noticed, I thought dryly.

“My lieutenants,” said Elang, the only introduction he made.

I nodded politely.

It felt more like a military procession than a marriage celebration.

As we proceeded past the turtles, they raised their spears—crystal-forged weapons thrice my height, with forked tips that looked sharp enough to pierce through stone.

By this point, I’d amended my expectations of Yonsar.

Originally I’d imagined a grand marble castle, with whales, dolphins, merfolk, and all manner of fish swimming to and fro across jade and marble tunnels and archways.

But now I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d be sleeping in a trench the next few weeks.

Ahead, I spied no castle, not even a gate.

Instead we advanced to the mountain itself, where Elang pressed his palm to the pewter-veined wall.

He motioned for me to do the same, and when I laid my hand upon the rock, a door shimmered into existence.

“Welcome to your new home,” Elang said, gesturing forward.

The moment I entered, floating sconces lit the cavernous hall.

So Elang did have a castle.

More a fortress, really, for it was scarcely less dull and desolate than the seascape outside.

Someone—I guessed Mailoh—had taken the effort to hang a dragon-and-phoenix wedding scroll by the entrance, but the rest of the walls were bare, save for the veins of pale green moss limning the stone’s many fissures.

“I’m relieved to see that no walls fell while we were on land,” said Mailoh, turning sideways to squeeze past the narrow door.

“You see, Lord Elang? Everything is in order aspromised.”

Elang merely doffed his jacket.

His attention was on a bleak and barren field outside the window; it looked like nothing special to me, yet made him grimace.

For someone who’s been exiled, I thought, he certainly doesn’t look thrilled to be home.

“Where is General Caisan?” he asked.

“He wasn’t at the welcoming reception.”

“My brother is in the War Pavilion,” Mailoh replied.

“He’s been preparing reports on the storms for your perusal. I can fetch him if you—”

“There’s no need.” Elang put on a familiar frown, and I almost pitied whoever this Caisan was.

“I’ll seek him out myself.”

“Not now, I hope.” Mailoh smiled pleasantly.

“You mustn’t forget you have a very special dinner.”

“Dinner?” It was the most hopeful word I’d heard since I’d left land.

“Didn’t His Highness tell you?” Mailoh said.

“A wedding banquet awaits.”

I blinked.

“I thought there wasn’t going to be a banquet.”

“It’s only for the two of you,” she explained.

“Kunkoi’s been in the kitchen all day preparing your favorite dishes.”

My favorite dishes?

All I’d told Elang was that I liked noodles.

This was bound to be interesting.

“There’s no need for a feast when one or two dishes will suffice,” Elang said.

His hair had turned black again, and he’d shed some of his dragon features, most noticeably the tail and whiskers.

His horns still gleamed, as did the yellow eye.

“Mailoh, will you check on it?”

“But, Your Highness, I thought you—”

That yellow eye burned.

“My mistake.” Mailoh bowed hastily.

“As you wish. I’ll let Kunkoi know.”

I was sad to see the turtle swim off, and especially to be left alone with Elang.

I windmilled my arms, kicking deeper into the castle to explore, but he followed.

“Don’t wheel your arms about like that. You’ll tire yourself without getting anywhere.” He caught me by my wrists.

“Relax,” he said, guiding me forward before he let go of one wrist.

With his free hand, he straightened my shoulders and adjusted my posture.

“Start off on the ground. Imagine you’re an anchor and let yourself sink, then move forward as though you’re walking.”

The instructions worked, and for the first time in Ai’long, I landed on solid ground, my toes curling into a rug of velvety green algae.

I swooshed my arms, trying to steady my balance.

“The water’s heavy,” I said.

“It’s hard to move one foot in front of the other.”

“Don’t think about it,” said Elang.

“It goes against logic, but once you let go of your resistance, you’ll glide.” He demonstrated at my side, kicking forward slowly.

“All you need is a gentle push in the direction you want to go with your arms or your legs. It should feel like flying once you’re used to it.”

I copied his movements.

With some practice, I could glide forward, even float and sink when I wanted.

It did feel like flying.

The water seemed to track my thoughts and follow me.

The only thing I had trouble with was staying in one place.

Whenever I wasn’t moving, I’d start drifting up off to the ceiling.

Elang caught my arm, steadying me.

“It’ll get easier with practice.”

His grip was firm, yet careful.

“Thank you,” I said, caught off guard.

What could I say back?

“Your home, it’s…” I searched for a word that wasn’t gray or desolate.

“It’s sturdy.”

Our exchange felt conciliatory, an attempt at goodwill on our wedding day.

But all it showed me was the vast difference between us.

His cold and lonely world to the warmth and radiance I had left behind.

He let me go.

“Come this way. I’ll show you to your room.”

In the last five years, I’d spent my nights in plenty of odd places.

Huddled up against the trees in the public gardens, in the attic of a shophouse, even in an abandoned carriage.

But never had I slept in a cave.

I entered my new room, surprised to find myself charmed.

It was a spacious, surprisingly well-lit cave, far less grand than the apartment I’d been given in Elang’s manor, but I liked its simplicity.

The walls were a speckled granite, gently rounded along the corners, and a bed hung from the ceiling, suspended by pale green swaths of silk.

There was even a window.

“This is where you’ll be staying,” said Elang.

“I realize the space is not fitting of the lady of the Westerly Seas, but it’s all the castle has to offer at the moment.”

“You’re talking to a girl who’s been sharing a toilet and a kitchen with three other families for years,” I replied.

Then it occurred to me: “ We won’t be sharing this room, will we? The turtles won’t expect us to…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.

“What?” said Elang, his brow raised a provocative fraction.

“It is our wedding night.”

An unwelcome heat crept to my cheeks.

Gods, I could kill him.

“That’s not funny.”

“Rest assured, my curse precludes any such expectations.” His mouth set into a thin, dispassionate line.

“And, to answer your other question, I reside on the other side of the castle—near the barracks. It is an area you’d do well to avoid.”

My relief gave way to curiosity.

“Why is that?”

He ignored me and went to the window, and drew my attention to a cloud of silvery haze high above.

“Ai’long’s days do not align with the mortal calendar,” he said.

“We measure time by the tides. As they fall, the upper seas will glow silver, meaning it is evening. As they rise, the light turns red.”

“Meaning it is day.” I understood.

“That’s correct,” said Elang.

He gestured outside.

“There isn’t much of a view, but when the water is clear, you might make out the Floating Mountains. They surround Jinsang, the capital of Ai’long.”

“Where your grandfather lives.” And where Baba might be.

“When will we go?”

A shadow fell over Elang’s face.

“Not anytime soon. Right now it isn’t safe to leave Yonsar Castle. The Dragon King has eyes and ears everywhere in Ai’long, in the stones, in the crevices behind the rocks that you cannot see.”

“But—”

“I will help you find your father,” he interrupted.

“This I assure you. But you must help me first, with Nazayun.”

When I said nothing, he passed me his umbrella.

It’d been refitted with a strap along the length of the canopy, permitting me to swing it over my shoulder.

“I advise you to keepthis.”

I cocked my head.

“Don’t tell me it rains in Ai’long.”

“Your kind is known for being slow and clumsy underwater,” said Elang, ignoring the remark.

“This will help you navigate your way until you can swim properly.”

He had a way of being insulting and helpful at the same time.

Remembering how I’d nearly floated away upon arriving in Ai’long, I took the umbrella.

I turned it in my hands, noting its lacquered handle—still a carved and unsmiling dragon.

“You’ve stopped calling me krill.”

“I think it best to save such indignities for humans I’m not married to.” He paused.

“Further, you didn’t seem to like it.”

“You’re observant,” I said dryly.

“If there’s a term of endearment you prefer, you’re welcome to share it.”

My jaw dropped, ever so slightly.

“Just Tru.” I didn’t ask him if he had one.

The idea seemed absurd.

“Just Tru, then.”

I let out a breath.

“Just how often are we supposed to see each other?”

“Dinner is the only time I request your company. Usually I take it alone, but it would arouse suspicion if we didn’t eat together. Will that be tolerable?”

That wasn’t so bad.

I nodded.

“Does that begin with our private banquet?”

He gestured at the door.

Blundering swimmer and all, I beat him outside.