Page 16 of The Dragon Wakes with Thunder (The Dragon Spirit Duology #2)

He knew how to toy with people, I reminded myself, how to make an audience believe anything. Knowing this, still, I could not help but be sucked into his stories.

“What…” I drew in a quick breath, bracing myself. “What happened?”

“The diary,” he said instead, ignoring my question. “It belongs to your mother, no?”

I tried to keep my expression neutral, but it was no use hiding things from him.

“I thought so,” he said, inclining his head. “There’s nothing valuable in there, you might as well know. Any notes that could’ve once been useful are too damaged now to be legible.”

“You—you read it?” I demanded, struggling to remain calm. “How dare you?”

“You would’ve destroyed it,” he said, as if pointing out the obvious. “I wanted to know what was so not worth reading.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, and now I could not keep my outrage in check.

“I would’ve expected you of all people to know how much it meant to me, how much it—” My voice broke in a flood of despair.

As quickly as it had risen, my anger splintered into grief.

“There were sides of my mother that I never knew,” I said hoarsely. “I thought at last I might know them.”

His pale eyes were indefinable as he considered me. Then, reaching into his tunic, he withdrew a thin leather-bound journal, its cover partially charred with ash.

I stared at the proffered journal in astonishment, before my eyes skipped up to meet his. “What is your price?” I whispered.

“Nothing,” he said, and the word seemed to cost him. “This one, you may have.”

Cautiously, as if expecting him to reveal the magic trick at any moment, I accepted the diary from him.

It was real and solid in my hands. Giving in to the childlike urge, I hugged my mother’s diary to my chest, and I imagined it was a little like embracing my mother.

Lei said nothing. As I looked into his eyes, it became clear he was thoroughly inebriated.

At my expression, he threw me a derisive smile, as if guessing my thoughts. Despite his frivolous demeanor and flippant remarks, the Ximing prince was no better off than the rest of us. And beneath those cold smiling eyes he hid a deeply troubled soul.

But Lei hated my pity. Quickly I asked, “What did you mean?” I swallowed. “That I would’ve destroyed it?”

He tipped his head back against the wall, exposing the knot at his throat. It made him appear oddly vulnerable, human, and it occurred to me that he could have envied me, to know that I had my mother’s last thoughts, when he did not.

“When I entered the infirmary, you were trying to tear that book into pieces, but you weren’t strong enough. Then you brought it to the fire, but you paid no notice to your own hand. I stopped you when I saw that your skin was burning.”

The burn mark on my right hand , I remembered with trepidation. Lei wasn’t lying.

“You kept twitching, like a startled animal. When I spoke to you, it was like you couldn’t hear me. Only then did I notice your irons had been removed. And your eyes”—he met mine—“they were the color of minted gold.”

Qinglong.

Icy fear stabbed the pit of my stomach. That he’d tried to destroy my mother’s diary only confirmed my suspicion—there was something valuable within it, some crucial information he did not want me to discover.

“Will you consent to see a lixia specialist now?” Lei asked.

I crossed my arms. “No,” I said, in a tone that was final. Sky had asked me multiple times, but I saw no point. I didn’t want a physician examining my blackened veins and depleted qi, only to prescribe infinite bed rest. No, I would heal on my own terms.

Lei shrugged and got up to leave. “They’ll be coming for you soon,” he said, his tone facetious once more. “Your little prince has returned from his brave and harrowing journey. Just in time to play the hero.”

His voice was mocking, but I wondered if there was not a note of bitterness to his words.

Lei, who played the perennial villain, who pretended as if everything he did was for foolish vanity, or selfish gain.

But looking up at him now, at his cold, derisive expression, I knew it was but a carefully constructed mask.

“Thank you,” I said. I rose to my feet unsteadily, gripping the wall for balance. “I can’t say for certain what the future holds, but if ever I’m in the position to, I’ll speak in favor of relations with Ximing, and with…you.”

He studied me then, and I tried stubbornly to hold his gaze.

One beat passed, then two, until I couldn’t take it; I blushed and looked away, but not before glimpsing the wicked curve of his smirk.

Did he know the residual power he had over me?

The lingering desire that I could not suppress, no matter how hard I tried?

“Do you want the throne?” he asked. “Or does Sky want it?” The unexpected shift in topic unsettled me. His voice dropped dangerously low. “Or does the dragon want it?”

“I want it,” I replied, but my voice sounded strange to my own ears.

“You hate it here,” he said suddenly, his tone vicious.

I opened my mouth to argue, but he seized me roughly by the shoulders. “Don’t lie to me, Meilin.” To my astonishment, I heard his voice tremble with suppressed fury. “I thought we’d passed that point.”

“You are made of lies, Lei!” I ripped myself from his hands. “So what if I hate it here? I have nowhere else to go.”

His eyes were a dilated molten copper, so bright and deep I felt like I could fall into them and drown. “You could come with me.”

“How much have you had to drink, Lei?” I scoffed, but as he closed the distance between us, I retreated until my back hit the wall, my bravado slipping.

“I’m sure your brother would love to see me,” I hissed.

“We got along so well last time.” I shivered at the memory—when Prince Zihuan had pressed a burning candle to my throat.

“We needn’t return to Ximing, though Autumn would certainly be pleased to see you.” His eyes flickered like caught fireflies. “But I believe that you and I share the same concerns, do we not?”

Lei had read my mother’s diary.

For the first time, I considered it. Was that a real option—to go with him? Or had it always been in my stars to stay?

“The dragon’s plan,” I began dubiously. “The one my mother wrote of. Do you think it’s connected to the sudden appearance of spirit gates?”

“What do you think, sweetheart?” asked Lei, looming over me, and I loathed him for it. For in his tone, the answer was obvious.

And yet: “How can it be?” I demanded, glaring up at him. “I’m still alive, aren’t I? He can’t choose another vessel, apart from me.”

Lei glanced at the ceiling window, at the light slowly resolving into day. “I don’t know how the dragon is managing it,” he said at last, “but I doubt we’ll find the answer within these palace walls.”

I shook my head tiredly. “I can’t leave Sky.” And Sky could not leave the capital again, not at such a critical juncture.

Lei appeared unsurprised. His smile, scathing and contemptuous, was like a slash across his face. “I must be more like my brother than I thought,” he murmured, alcohol loosening his tongue.

Impulsively, he fitted his hand around my throat, as if he meant to strangle me.

Yet his touch was surprisingly gentle. He left it there for a beat, before seeming to remember himself and dropping his hand.

“Do me a favor,” he said, his mask of insouciance back in place. “Try to stay alive, will you?”