Page 49 of The Dragon Wakes with Thunder (The Dragon Spirit Duology #2)

Thirty-Three

Baihu is a guardian of the old order. To her, balance is key, and any change—whether for gain or loss—is a disturbance to be resisted. While some chronicles revere her as a protector of tradition, others cast her as an enemy of progress.

The first spirit beast to reach the air was a great hawk with wings of steel. It shrieked as it took flight, flying higher and higher as if trying to reach the sun. Then it dived.

Its shadow disappeared behind the city gates. But by the screams that followed, I had no doubt it found its mark.

“We need to get you out of here,” said Lei urgently. “Does he know where you are? Does Qing—”

“Don’t say his name,” I gasped, my superstitions emerging. “I-I don’t know.”

Would Qinglong come for me now? And yet, with the dragon free to move between realms, what need did he have for a human vessel anymore?

“Kuro,” I croaked out, pressing my hand to my sternum as if to hold the bones intact. “We need to find Kuro.”

“Let’s get back to the rebel base,” suggested Lei. “Can you walk?”

I nodded, though my insides ached. The lixia in my bloodstream was like a living thing, clamoring to escape.

There was lixia in the air too, so heady and rich that breathing felt like sipping wine.

The sky had darkened, but the stars loomed too close for comfort.

As if the world were tipping on its axis, as if the realms were merging into one.

The reverberations deepened, until the mountains started to shake.

A colossal oak tree groaned as its gnarled roots split the earth, and then, seconds later, the tree plummeted.

Lei shouted and seized me, throwing us both to the side before the tree could careen into us.

I heard the splintering of wood and stone, and then a loud crack, followed by another.

“Earthquake,” said Lei grimly. “I hope they evacuated the tunnels.”

More spirits were appearing in the sky, glowing more brilliantly than the stars. They were all headed for the city.

“Qi,” I rasped. “They feed on qi.”

The brilliant life force of the city and its throngs of people called to them, just as their lixia called to us.

And yet, was that inherent hunger meant to be sated?

What happened when we got the thing that we so desperately wanted, when we held it within the palm of our hand?

Did it cease to be a thing of want? Or did we simply want more, and more, until the mere idea of balance became an impossibility?

Even my craving for lixia had lessened, the near constant migraines and nausea abating in intensity. But one problem had simply been replaced by another.

“Where are you, my little rat?”

I froze, ice creeping into my lungs.

“You can’t hide forever.”

I don’t need forever , I thought before gathering my qi. I imagined that willow tree by the Wen River, its long leafy branches, the way it shut out the sun, protecting the cool air within its expansive shade. I would be that shade.

I could feel Qinglong’s frustration, his mounting anger. It was barely a muted whisper, and then it was gone.

I smiled in grim victory.

My father had not given me much, but this he had given me.

An ability to read emotions, and to guard my own.

Living with his temper had necessitated it, and at the time, I had resented his mercurial nature.

But now, I understood it to be a boon. This was why impulsion came naturally to me, as it did not to Kuro or even Sima.

Because I was a woman, and I had grown up powerless. From this I had found my power.

“Is the dragon…?” Lei began.

“He can’t find me,” I said. “Not through impulsion, at least.” I straightened. “The rebel base—we’ll have to enter the city.”

Grimly, I surveyed the traffic leading up to Meridian Gate, which was backed up with overturned wagons and swarming masses of people. Some were trying to get out; others were trying to get in. It was total pandemonium.

“I know another way into the city,” said Lei.

“Of course you do,” I muttered.

We took a roundabout way through the woods, then scaled a low fence that led to an outdoor trading post teeming with people.

In the frenzied, panic-stricken crowd, Lei and I went unnoticed.

Although the air was feverish, we were far enough from the city center that the chaos had not reached here—not yet.

“I’ll give you a tael of silver for your mule! My son needs to see a physician, please—”

The bearded trader shook his head. “The hospitals will be flooded, miss. They won’t take any new patients. Not unless you have imperial connections.”

The mother was crying. “But…”

“Believe me, they won’t take your son when Warlord Liu himself barely has a bed.”

“What happened to Warlord Liu?” I interrupted, nearly tripping over a crate of barley in my haste to eavesdrop.

The trader turned a distasteful eye toward me. “Where have you been? They declared an official state of emergency a few hours ago.”

“Before the earthquake?” I asked.

He shot me an exasperated look. “Are you here to buy something or not?”

I reached into my pockets, which were, of course, empty. Thankfully, Lei slid a coin into the man’s hand. “We’re from out of town,” he explained.

The trader hefted the coin in his palm, then smiled. “Our dear heads of state fell ill at the signing of the Three Kingdoms Treaty. Official reports called it a minor case of spoiled food, nothing serious. But no one’s seen them in public since. If you ask me, I think it was poison.”

As the merchant turned away, I glanced with alarm at Lei. It was not the first time poison had been used on a prince.

And yet who would target all the royals? Someone who didn’t bear allegiance to any kingdom, surely; someone who wanted all of them disposed of.

The Black Scarves. “ Tan Kuro is a poison master ,” his healer had told me.

“Kuro,” I breathed.

“He’s been busy, it seems,” said Lei dryly.

I was opening my mouth to reply when Lei pointedly glanced toward the entrance of the trading post. Two imperial messengers rode down the street, stopping in front of the gate.

“Any citizens caught harboring black magic practitioners will be put to death, alongside their families!” the younger messenger shouted. From his garb, he looked to be a Leyuan representative from the old regime.

“They’re united in their enmity, at least,” Lei muttered.

Even though it shouldn’t bother me, not at a time like this, still I felt deeply wronged. “They’re targeting the very people they should be helping!” I whispered angrily.

Lei took my arm, deftly positioning himself in front of me by pretending to investigate the barley prices.

I felt the messenger’s attention drift toward us, before Lei struck up another conversation with the bearded trader, who looked positively gleeful in the chaos.

At least there was money to be made in a crisis.

Meanwhile I was shaking with barely concealed anger. Our rulers were useless, as always. The veil had collapsed and all they thought to do was round up available spirit summoners? They would destroy all of Tianjia if they had their way.

Someone beyond the trading post cried out in warning. I peered around Lei as a young girl ran down the dirt road toward us, barefooted and clothed in worn rags. An orphan girl, who likely survived by begging on the streets. Who was she running from? I moved out from behind Lei to scan the road.

“You—” The older messenger, an Anlai soldier, caught sight of me. He dismounted from his steed, withdrawing a pair of iron handcuffs. “The princess is looking for you.”

I tried to back away, but the crowd had pressed closer in curiosity.

The orphan girl approached the Anlai messenger with little regard for his personal space.

When he reprimanded her, drawing his sword, she did not run away.

Instead, she closed the distance between them and— sank her teeth into his stomach.

She was so small she only reached his torso.

But when she bit him, she had such strength that she ripped chunks of flesh from his bones.

The crying mother stopped crying. The smiling trader stopped smiling. Even I forgot to breathe as the messenger’s organs dangled from his torn stomach.

Who was this child?

Teeth gleaming red, she tilted her head toward the sky, licking blood from her lips. Then she turned to us.

Her eyes were colored gold.

“Run,” I whispered to Lei, who did not need a second warning.

He took my hand and shoved his way through the panicking crowd, steering us not toward the outer gate but instead into an adjoining shop.

To my surprise he led us up three flights of winding stairs, then down a narrow hallway, which deposited us onto an open-air balcony connected to another via dangling laundry lines.

“Climb!” he shouted, as the maelstrom began in earnest below.

But from this vantage point, I saw it. That shimmering black haze at the center of the city, a haze like a ripple of heat, only there was no sunlight and it should not exist. Beneath the haze was a deep crevice in the earth, like a fault line, its depths shrouded in darkness.

Here was the epicenter, I saw, the heart of the torn veil.

“We’ll have to go there.” I pointed, trying to summon the resolve needed. “To close the tear in the veil.”

“Not now,” hissed Lei. “Now we take cover and formulate a plan.”

I opened my mouth to argue, before realizing the depths of my exhaustion. My lixia had never felt more alive, but my qi was terribly depleted, so that I felt hardly more human than spirit.

I conceded his point. “All right—” I began before my breath left me. All reason faded as I cried out, “Sky!”

He could not hear me from up here. Of course he could not.

But I could see him, and I could see what were perhaps his final breaths in this life.

There was a great bird of prey that had pinned him to the ground, her shimmering talon around his throat, a glowing bead of jade poised in her razor-sharp beak.

Sky’s face paled as he struggled for breath, his bare hands scrabbling in the dirt as he sought a weapon.

But his sword glinted just out of reach.

Sky’s hands twitched—once, twice—before going limp.