IMMEDIATELY AFTER THEY LEFT the Way of King-Trees, onto a road marked as the Cedar Pilgrimage, it rained so hard they were forced to stop and shelter in the hollow of a King-Tree snag for two entire days.
The hollow’s peaked entrance was covered in tattered pilgrim flags pinned to the bark and prayer ribbons twisting in rainbow ropes. Strings of tiny bells made a pretty shimmering song in the heavy wind, and the rain splattered onto the gray boulders and ruffled the ferns, darkening slips of moss and trailing in streams down the deep furrows of the snag. The sky was so dark it seemed like night outside, and occasionally rain spat down onto their fire from the high boles rotted out into round windows. The floor of the hollow was dry, but Sky covered the back section with his oiled cloth and they huddled near their fire, pressed together under extra robes. Wind could not shake the ancient old tree, but its bones creaked as if the King-Tree still lived.
A crossroads demon had led them here when they stopped to give offering and Nothing inquired about the Sorceress Who Eats Girls. “Ask the snag demon,” it said, flicking claws toward the west. It possessed a striped raccoon, furry and emaciated, with tiny hands to climb its shrine and pluck blessing ribbons or pull apart redpop cakes, which rotted in its tiny claws. Dark-blue demon-eyes gleamed even in the daylight.
“What is a snag?” Nothing asked.
Sky said, “A dead tree. Lightning struck or taken by disease.”
“Right, brother,” said the raccoon demon, showing all its teeny-tiny teeth.
Sky turned his back, and Nothing fed the demon a drop of blood soaked into a crumb of cheese—the last of their stores. From here they’d be subsisting on what they could gather and hunt and bargain for from the spirits of the rain forest. The demon said, “Find the snag demon less than a day along that road; turn off when you hear the rattle.”
The rain began midafternoon, and she and Sky hurried, but there was only so much Nothing could do to make herself faster. Sky offered to carry her. She hissed at him just like the raccoon demon.
Even with her jacket drawn over her head like a hood, Nothing got wet. She scowled and trudged on, listening for a rattle.
But the whole forest rattled when the wind shook the canopy and thin, cold breezes cut down to rush through ferns and dying leaves. Or so she thought, until she heard it: a huge, low sound like a bear’s snore, which filled her head. Even Sky stopped. He twisted around to stare at her, and they darted off the path, following the sound.
The dead King-Tree itself caused it, when the wind blew through its ancient branches and slithered into the boles and the massive hollow.
Nothing knelt in the wide swath of barren earth surrounding the tree. Had the demon been a spirit until the tree was struck, killing them both, or had it found this home after? She put her hand to the cracking bark, exploring splatters of white and blue lichen. “Hello, beautiful old tree. We would like to sleep in the shelter of your hollow, with your permission, friend.”
“Friend?” rattled the voice of the demon. It echoed in the dark hollow.
“I am friend to the great demon of the royal palace, and would be yours.”
Sky passed her a small knife, even as rain plastered his hair to his cheeks.
Nothing cut the meat of her thumb and touched her hand to the bark. “Here is a sign of my honesty, and a gift for you. While we stay here, we will feed you.”
“I like it,” drawled the demon. Branches rattled overhead, shaking more rain upon them.
“And mine,” said Sky, cutting his hand too and gifting the dark-purple blood.
“Ah!” said the demon. “You may remain.”
Sky moved inside with all their goods, ruffling the pilgrim flags. Nothing said, “Snag demon? Do you know the Sorceress Who Eats Girls?”
“No.” The demon’s voice had turned petulant.
“Do you know of her?” Nothing wondered what this demon looked like. Had it taken the shape of its tree house, or something more like a worm or an owl or a badger?
“Whispers…,” it hissed, for effect, Nothing suspected. She smiled a little.
“What sort of whispers?”
“She hunts when she leaves her mountain. Hunts and hunts and takes and takes.”
“What is she hunting for?”
“If I knew I would find it for her and bargain to be hers.”
Nothing stroked the wet bark. Rain trickled down her spine beneath her robes. “You think it would be better to be her demon than to have this magnificent old tree?”
“Flattery,” the demon scoffed, pleased. The air seemed to warm slightly.
The rain did not abate. Sky ventured out to find food, returning with nuts to soak and roast and stringy sura hearts that tasted like apples about to spoil. He was drenched, and Nothing took over cooking while he spread his quilted robe and shirt out to dry, stripping down to his skin.
Nothing tossed him her bright-green sash to use to towel at his hair and then he sat near the fire on the oilcloth, holding his underwear up like a chicken ready to roast, hoping it would dry quickly.
His copper muscles were outlined in blue shadows and red-orange firelight, and his dark hair clung in thick waves to his neck, the ends lifting as they dried into soft blue wisps. Tiny dark-blue hairs scattered against his chest, lightly down his belly, and along his forearms. With her eyes she could trace layers of muscle from his wide shoulders and down his back, along the dip of his spine and bottom. A few scars nicked and gouged him, all a mottled purplish color, lovely stories written against his skin. Nothing felt vulnerable when she was naked, but Sky seemed stronger with nothing to hide his demon-line.
The demon-kissed were said to have the blood of demons in them, which was impossible because demons had no blood and could not reproduce even with other demons. The priests taught that an offended Queen of Heaven had taken a demon and shattered its essence into such tiny pieces that it could be infused into living blood like tea into water.
“You’re rude,” Sky said.
It was true: she was staring. Nothing sniffed. “I’ve seen it before.”
Sky wrinkled his nose mightily, but she suspected he acted gruff to hide embarrassment. Nobody was supposed to witness that moment between him and Kirin, and Nothing had been watching because she’d come to ask Kirin a question, then been stunned into complete stillness, entranced by the way Kirin had seemed to worship Sky with his mouth and tongue, like Sky was a god. Until Nothing distractedly put her hand in the wrong place and fell through the ceiling. She’d hit the woven mat hard enough to knock the breath from her body and bruise her whole skeleton. When she’d blinked through the pain, Kirin, who’d been kneeling before Sky, was kneeling beside her instead, and laughing.
That was when Sky had decided she was dangerous and she’d decided Sky was selfish. If she’d caught them, anyone could. It would have ruined Kirin.
Nothing checked the progress of the sura heart. Nearly soft enough to pull apart and eat. She plopped down next to Sky and without looking at him said, “Kirin kissed me once.”
Sky went still. “He didn’t tell me that.”
“We both thought it shouldn’t happen again. I think he wanted to see if he was wrong.”
“Wrong about what?”
“You?” Nothing shrugged a little. “If he liked kissing me as much as he liked kissing you, maybe you were only his friend, too.”
“That’s not how that works.” Sky’s hands holding his underwear out curled into fists.
“It worked for him. He kissed me, then laughed a little, but in a sad way. ‘Did you like that, Nothing?’ he asked. I told him it was fine, and he laughed harder, not sad anymore.”
Sky slowly relaxed his hands.
She didn’t tell Sky that Kirin had calmed down and asked if Nothing would let him do it again if he asked. She’d said of course, but he hadn’t. Instead, she said, “He’ll ask you to be his Second Consort.”
Not the First. The First Consort had to be capable of making heirs for the Moon.
“I know.”
“You’ll hate it.”
“I know.” Sky sighed. “I am a better bodyguard, but if I remain so I can never be family. If I become his Second Consort, I will be his family, with my own household, my own bodyguards. It should be obvious.”
“But you could never leave the palace.”
Sky nodded. “Would you? Be one of his consorts?”
“I do anything Kirin asks me to do,” she said easily.
There was little else to say. Sky put on his underwear and helped her peel and pull out the meat of the sura hearts, using the roasted skins for bowls. They ate the hot mash with their fingers and, when they’d finished, wrapped the nuts that had been soaking and stuffed them into the embers of the fire.
Outside the snag, wind and rain blew; lightning flickered. Scrabbling overhead told them some smaller forest creatures used the upper hollow for shelter too. They must have been desperate, if willing to tempt a demon to suck their marrow. Or perhaps they had their own bargains. Nothing gave in and leaned against Sky. He was cool, but not cold, and he wrapped his quilted robe around them, for it was marginally dry.
Nothing closed her eyes. She felt relaxed and more comfortable than she thought she ought when resting in the hollow of a snag demon’s house. For some reason, she couldn’t be afraid of the demon. She trusted it. There was definitely something wrong with her. When she listened, she could hear its very soft, creaking fizzles of power. Not quite breath, but more like tiny connections through the aether, drawing at the life at the edges of the snag tree’s roots, at the kinetic rain, at the scrape of wind.
Sky shifted to get more comfortable with her head on his shoulder. She wondered if he felt the demon’s fizzles. And she wondered if she should ask about his family or for a story his grandmother told him. Anything to pass the time and share between just the two of them. They’d always been separated by Kirin in the middle, and she didn’t know how to speak of anything but their prince.
And maybe if they spoke of him, kept him alive in their minds and hearts, he would stay alive in his own mind and heart.
Sky must’ve been thinking the same, for he said, “I was afraid to admit to myself that it wasn’t him. The summer changes someone—it’s supposed to, preparing the heir for the investiture—and I felt changed, so why shouldn’t he be?”
Nothing remained quiet. There was a difference between changed and imposter. But Sky knew that.
“I think I lost a few days. Nothing—at the time I didn’t realize it. But I must have.” His voice took on the hushed tone of a confession. “How could she take him and replace him with such a detailed, skilled imposter in mere moments? No, she had us for days. Then made me forget.”
“You met her?”
“We encountered a dragon.” At her tiny gasp, Sky glanced at her and nodded confirmation. “Sinuous, with scales like liquid sliver and eyes brighter than the noontime sky. It was a ribbon of light, and Kirin argued with it. Can you—of course you can believe that.”
Nothing closed her eyes again, pressing her head into his shoulder.
“And the dragon vanished in the middle of their argument but brought her back with it. She was just as beautiful, a lovely woman in silk and pearls, until she smiled. Her mouth was full of shark’s teeth, and she had one eye like summer leaves, the other white as bone. I remember trying to protect him, trying to throw myself between them. I remember pain, and Kirin’s voice, and then we were alone on the banks of the Selegan. I’d thought she was a spirit. Or one of the Queens of Heaven, or a ghost, or even a witch without familiars or aether-tattoos. I never thought she was the Sorceress Who Eats Girls until you killed him.”
“And you just got up and came home?”
“Kirin—the imposter Kirin—said he was exhausted and it was time to be back at the palace. The encounter had been enough excitement for me, too, so I didn’t question the decision.”
“Did you kiss him?”
“Nothing…” Sky leaned away abruptly enough she staggered heavily against him. He shook her off.
She scowled. “Did you?”
“Yes.”
She spread her hands to ask for more.
“It was different. But not… I didn’t know what to think.”
Nothing curled her knees up and hugged them. She always knew what to think. Just not what to do.
“You knew right away,” Sky accused softly.
“Kirin looked into my spirit long ago, and I into his. When you returned, I looked at him and my whole body rejected him, like instinct.”
“I need more instinct, and you less of it.”
Nothing snorted. “How many more days to the place where you lost him?”
Sky didn’t answer at first, probably irritated at how she’d phrased the question. Then, “Three weeks, without more delays like this. The roads meander through the rain forests along the best paths for trading between villages. If we could go overland, faster. But there are too many spirits and demons, not to mention wolves and eagles and bears. I’m not skilled enough to always find my way without the sun or a map.”
“I’ve never left the palace before,” she whispered.
After a pause, he said, “You’re doing all right.”
Nothing drifted into sleep soon after that and dreamed of rain, of Kirin’s tilted smile, and of dragons with one green eye and one bone-white.