Page 30 of The Dragon Wakes with Thunder (The Dragon Spirit Duology #2)

His voice dropped, so that only I could hear him.

“The casualties the Anlai army suffered were great. The coffers are empty, and the noble families openly defy their tribute agreements. And most strikingly”—Lei paused, his eyes on mine—“the famine has reached critical levels. The common people are rebelling.”

I thought of my recurring dreams, of great qi being sucked from the land. Was my spirit power to blame for this? In overusing my lixia during the war, had I sapped the life force not only from my own body but from the land itself?

Lightheaded, I leaned back against the alcove. Sky would’ve stopped; Sky would’ve spared me. But Lei, as I’d always known him to be, was ruthless. He went on.

“Rebellion is like a disease; it knows no borders. Civil war in Leiyang ended with the disposal of their ruling family. Now the rebels are moving west—and Anlai is their next mark.”

Rebels? My migraine intensified as I tried to wrap my head around this revelation.

Lei leaned one hand nonchalantly against the wall, shielding me from view. “The people are restless. They hunger for change. The question is, my little troublemaker, what role will you play?”

What role will you play?

I repeated his question, but in my head, it was not Lei’s voice that resounded, but the dragon’s. I recalled the icy weight of his voice, the hair-raising timbre of his roar. Even though I did not trust him…I missed his grounding presence. I needed it.

Ever since I’d started wearing irons again, a debilitating emptiness had filled my core. I felt lost, depleted, a cracked half shell of a person.

“I-I can’t,” I said, my voice breaking. “Something’s wrong with me, Lei.

My qi feels like a stranger’s. Some days, I can hardly sense my life force at all.

I have so many questions, but every time I try to answer one, a thousand more spring up.

I barely recognize myself anymore. I-I’m just trying to hold it together. ”

“So you’ll accept your sentence?” he asked quietly. “And spend your final months here?”

I wrinkled my brows at him. “What do you mean—my final months?”

For the first time, I saw astonishment flit across his face. “He didn’t tell you?” Lei asked, something sinister and precarious in his voice. Surprise had crystallized into anger.

“Tell me what?”

“Prince Cao.” Winter appeared behind Lei, his long pale robes stark against the blackening night. “My felicitations on the occasion of your betrothal.”

Betrothal? My spine stiffened as I caught Lei’s reaction. He straightened, distancing himself from me, his face regaining its impassive mask. “Thank you,” he said, bowing his head. “I hope to share a toast with you at my wedding ceremony.”

“You’re betrothed?” I asked, ignoring etiquette. “To who?”

Lei raised a mocking brow, as if the information had no pertinence to me. “Lady Tang Liqing of the Tang family. Have you had the pleasure of making her acquaintance?” My stomach sinking, I recalled the pretty girl with crimson lipstick who’d kissed Lei at the Rain-Listening Gazebo.

Lei’s face was cold again, and he looked at me as if I were merely a prying stranger. “I see,” I said, struggling to keep my voice level.

To my mortification, I felt pressure build behind my eyes. I did not know if it was due to the holidays or simply because I missed my family; never had I been someone so quick to cry. Humiliated and fuming, I turned to go. “Goodbye,” I spat out.

“Wait.” He seized my wrist with the speed of a cobra.

“Let me go,” I said, determined not to look at him. I would not let him see my tears.

His voice sounded odd. “Meilin—”

I felt a sudden movement behind me and turned just as Sky punched Lei in the face. Lei staggered back, wiping blood from his lip.

“Touch her again and you’ll die,” said Sky, his nostrils flaring. Nervously, I edged toward him as court officials gathered around us, whispering.

“Sky,” I said. He was bristling, itching for a fight. “Let’s go.”

“Will you tell her or will I?” Lei asked, a cruel smirk playing across his face. “I always knew you were a coward, but the extent—”

Sky snarled and threw another fist at him. This time, Lei was prepared and easily dodged, laughing. Sky tried again and Lei eluded him once more, leaving Sky panting from exertion.

“That’s enough,” said Winter, seizing his brother. “You’re making a scene.”

Sky’s face was still red, but at least he grew aware of the watching crowd. Taking a breath, he found me and grabbed my arm.

“We’re leaving,” Sky said, and an unsettling premonition struck me—that I might never see the Ximing prince again.

In a few days, he would depart for First Crossing, and I would remain in Chuang Ning.

It hardly mattered; he was soon to be married, as was I.

Like two shadows meeting at dusk, our lives were only ever meant to cross for a fleeting moment.

Lei’s face changed, growing raw and desperate in a way that made me hesitate. “Don’t go with him,” he said lowly, in a voice meant for me alone.

I steeled myself against his manipulations. “You have no right,” I hissed. “Congratulations on your forthcoming nuptials. From now on, let us be strangers to one another.”