CHAPTER EIGHT

VILLAGE OF THE DAMNED

Rayyel,” I tested, unsure if I was seeing a spectre. The rush from the battle was still pounding through my veins. I’d had too many dreams like this before and I didn’t know if I trusted what was right in front of me.

His jaw quivered, his eyes dancing with that same, unreadable expression that had plagued me in the life we had shared together. I couldn’t tell if he was surprised to see me, if he had been expecting me, if he had been waiting in fear or anticipation or anger. The familiar irritation returned. I had failed as a wife as much as I had failed as queen. When it came to him, I had chosen emotion over reason, and he continued to prove that I was wrong. And yet…

The clashing blades faded behind me. I took one step forward.

He turned, and ran.

“No,” I found myself saying. “Rai—wait!” I hurtled down the path after him.

“Tali!” Khine’s voice. I pushed it away from my thoughts. I was focused on the torchlight, the faint outline like a distant star. My eyes watered.

Stop and turn, Rai. Stop and turn, why won’t you stop and turn? You said you loved me. And I loved you, for so very long I loved you. Why can’t that be enough?

Faint echoes of the narrative I had repeated to myself all these long years. I wasn’t sure I believed them anymore, but I tore after Rayyel like my sanity depended on it, not caring that the movement dislodged the scarf. I screamed his name, hoping the echo would carry it further than my feet could take me, that somehow it would rip us back through time, before he left, before our marriage, before I had made my bed.

I felt the ground begin to shake.

“Above you!” Nor screamed. My reflexes kicked in. A dark shape dropped down, blocking the path. It unfurled its wings before turning to me, red eyes gleaming, hooked mouth open.

I headed straight for the gap between its tail and the wall. Even after my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I couldn’t see much except the dancing shadows cast by Rai’s torch. That he had stopped gave me renewed hope. I drew my sword up as the creature slammed its head into the wall, missing me by a hand’s width.

The tunnel shook.

I struck its front leg and felt my sword bite into leathery flesh. I pulled back and tried to aim for its neck.

Footsteps. “Watch out!” Khine cried. “White dragons spit—”

The beast’s neck arched. I dropped my head just as a wad of venom smacked above me.

The shadows danced. Rai’s figure turned around in the distance.

“Now, Queen Talyien!” Nor called. She threw a rock at the white dragon’s head, hitting it in the eye. It turned towards her.

I tore my eyes away from the battle and started down the path again.

“Rai!”

I had never heard so much desperation in my life. That it came from my own voice was a clear sign of how low I’d sunk. I could hear Yeshin’s booming retort in my head. What are you doing, child? Steel yourself! A wolf of Oren-yaro would never…

But I didn’t care about all of that. I didn’t care about the anger or those tired old quarrels. All I could see was my chance to save my son disappearing into the darkness, and it was all I could do not to shred the shadows into pieces.

My boots landed on wet rock. I skidded, tumbling down a short slope. I tried to catch myself with my hands, but I fell at such an angle that my shoulder slammed first. My head spun as the pain erupted around the socket; the last I noticed before I slipped into darkness were the feathery wisps of dust under my nostrils.

“I think I’m pregnant, Rai.”

It was sunset and we had just walked out of a meeting that had started before lunch. I had also just finished vomiting into one of the flowerpots in the garden; Rai was politely standing a few paces away with a look that verged on horrified. I got up to wipe my mouth, and that was when I told him.

His expression changed, but not by much. I had come to expect that. “So soon?” he asked.

I wanted to smack him. “Apparently, it works that way.”

It was like he had never considered it before. “Our coronation is still three years away. Would having a child before that violate the priests’ plans? I had wanted to consult with them after the wedding, but there’s been so much going on and I didn’t have the time…”

I came up to him. “Rai,” I said. “Are you not happy about this?”

“I’ll have to go to the temple tonight. And send word to Shirrokaru. And to the Citadel—my mother will want to know.”

“Rai.”

His eyes snapped back from its usual haze and turned to me. “Beloved Queen.”

“We’re having a child.”

“Yes, you said. You have visited the healer, of course?”

“That’s how I found out.” I reached for his hands, both of which had been hanging loosely at his sides, and squeezed them. “I asked you a question.”

Rai blinked. “What question?”

“I asked if you were happy about this. You seem distracted.”

“I’d have preferred if this happened with the priests’ blessings. The eyes of the entire kingdom are on us. I am Ikessar by name only—my father is a minor noble from the Hio clan, and with my uncle dead, exceptions had to be made to name me an Ikessar. A child of mine…”

“Akaterru rot your priests,” I hissed. “I wanted to know if you were happy about this. For us.”

“I don’t understand your question,” Rai said.

I looked into his eyes and saw the truth in that. He really didn’t. Inwardly, I asked what I had been expecting. Clearly more than what I got. It didn’t have to be much—something that told me I was more than an obligation, that I could give him something that rivalled whatever it was Chiha Baraji offered. A fraction of the depth of my feelings for him.

But he had the perfect mask on, that unbreakable wall. I didn’t want to admit it, but he was always much better at it than me, and I couldn’t see beyond his blank eyes. He was thinking about something, but I didn’t know what it was. “Are you trying to decide on names?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

“The priests…” he started.

“Right,” I murmured.

He was now staring at the pond with such intensity you would think the fish in it were more interesting than his own wife. Knowing Rai, though, they probably were. “I suppose,” I heard him whisper, “that there will be no problems. But I must write to the Citadel at once. Beloved Wife…” He pulled his hands away from me and bowed.

I watched him walk away, counting his steps. He stopped at the first garden archway.

“I am partial to Thanh, if it’s a boy,” Rai said.

“Thanh,” I repeated. “The first Kibouri priest. But wasn’t he a commoner?”

I knew, as soon as I said the words, that it was the wrong thing to say. I meant nothing by it. But there was a slight tremor in his voice when he replied. “A servant to the people, through and through. As we all are.”

I reached for him to apologize and saw him crumble. I turned, and my surroundings were swirling back, fading into darkness. My first instinct was to wrap my arms around my belly to protect my child, but something told me that my womb was empty. Barren. I dropped to my knees to scream.

Silence. I opened my eyes. I was still in the garden, but it was nighttime and there were crickets in the grass. Rayyel was still there, but he was wearing different robes and his beard was longer. I slowly rose and saw that he was sitting on a bench by the fishpond. There was a soldier’s helmet on his lap.

I recognized the falcon crest of the Ikessars. The last time the Ikessar clan had an army was when the mountain clans lent their men during the War of the Wolves. Rayyel’s father, Shan aron dar Hio, had been a high-ranking general. Had because my father killed him, of course. Rayyel never spoke of him. It was understandable, because all things considered, Rayyel was a bastard and the less said about that, the better.

He looked up, but not because of me. A servant came to announce a visitor, and then I saw him standing there, wringing his hands together. An old man, the innkeeper from that damn inn.

Rayyel set the helmet aside and beckoned for him to come closer. The man began to talk.

I stepped towards them. They both turned at the sound and the innkeeper raised a crooked finger to point at me. “She was in bed with that man,” the man gasped. “The one she is always with, her dog, her guard’s captain.”

The words sank in. For a moment, I wondered if Rayyel would get angry. And then—a stray thought…I wanted him to be angry. I wanted him to react. I wanted him to do something. He was always so quiet, so rigid, expressionless. Was it too much to ask for a spark of love from a man I would so willingly die for?

He did nothing. In the meantime, the innkeeper was babbling, talking about his debts, his inn going bankrupt, and if only we could lend a helping hand he would forget he had ever seen anything. And then my sword ripped into his gut, the wound like a broken smile…

Snakes began to crawl out of it.

I reeled back. Called to Rayyel. But like the falcon that marked his clan’s crest, he had flown from my sight, leaving me to pick up the pieces.

The memories repeated like a never-ending play. The details would change once in a while: in some, Rayyel would turn, but his face would distort into a demon’s, forcing me to run my sword through him as well. Or the snakes would crawl out of me as soon as I announced my pregnancy, ripping their way from my belly and out through my mouth. I could feel them, too, the way they stretched my throat as their scales slithered past my lips. Terrible, wretched dreams. They still haunt me to this day.

I finally opened my eyes, waking from what felt like the longest sleep in my life. The first thing that caught my attention was a fan on the ceiling, turning gently with the wind from what was probably a weather vane on the roof. Pain shot through my neck and down my spine, and I had the distinct sensation of glass shards being shoved down my eyeballs. “Water,” I managed to croak out, not even knowing if there was anyone there who could hear me.

But someone was there. I heard footsteps, voices. I saw Khine beside me, a cup of water in his hands.

I propped myself up against the wall. Breathing was painful. I took the water and drank all of it before I handed the cup back to him.

“Damn you, Tali,” Khine whispered. “We thought we’d lost you.”

“I’m hard to kill,” I managed to croak out. I tried to gather my thoughts. “Was it the dragon? I remember fighting that ugly bastard.”

“Agos and Nor killed it. No—you fell into a patch of featherstone. You also tore your shoulder.”

That explained why it felt like it was wrapped in iron. I resisted the urge to look down, because every single movement was painful. “Where am I?”

“Phurywa,” he said. “We…we dragged you back here. Got help. This went beyond what I was capable of.” He scratched his head.

“Qun,” I managed. “Did we escape the soldiers?”

“So far,” Khine said. “I don’t think they saw us head out here. No sign of them since the mines.”

The door slid open. An older woman stepped in. She shuffled inside softly, as if she was afraid of disturbing me. “If your patient is awake, Khine, shouldn’t you feed her?” she asked.

“Ma—she’s not really my patient,” Khine said.

The woman made a snorting sound. “You’re too modest. He’s always been too modest, this son of mine.” She patted his shoulders before drifting to the foot of the bed. She tapped the window with a closed fist to prop it open. “I hope the bed isn’t too hard,” she continued. “I wanted you brought somewhere more comfortable, but Khine didn’t want to bother anyone. You wouldn’t think he’s a big-city doctor from the look of him.”

“I’ll get you food,” Khine grumbled. “If you feel like eating, that is.”

“I feel like there’s knots in my stomach, but I guess it can’t hurt.”

He fled before his mother could get another word in. As he stepped out, I turned to observe her. On second inspection, she wasn’t that old—there were barely any lines on her face, and her greying hair had yet to give over to white. She had Khine’s eyes. Hers were even softer than his, the softest eyes I had ever seen on anyone.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” I said, bowing to her. “Please accept my utmost gratitude.”

She looked taken aback. “My home isn’t much, but I hope you’re comfortable.”

“I am.” If you didn’t count the sensation of cats crawling up my gullet and lungs, but she didn’t have to know that. I glanced around my surroundings. I was in a small room, cramped enough that the shadows cast from the fan reached from one side of the wall to the other.

I turned back to Khine’s mother. “Did Khine and his siblings grow up here?”

“No. We had another house back then. I’ve been living here since the children left.” She noticed the blanket had fallen off me and pulled it up to cover my legs before patting my knee. “The children say they know you from the city. If it’s not so forward, may I ask how they are doing? Are they well?”

I opened my mouth, but it was Khine who answered for me from the door. “Well enough, Ma. I told you.” He was carrying a steaming bowl. “Can I speak with Tali alone, please?”

She flicked his ear with her fingers before walking out. “Why are you smiling?” he asked.

I tried to straighten my face. “I’m not.”

He set the tray beside me. I could see noodles in a thick, red broth. Bamboo shoots, leafy cabbage, and boiled eggs bobbed amid a sheen of oil—sesame, probably, from the smell of it. There was also a new cup, one filled with a drink that almost made me recoil when I sniffed it.

“Better you don’t ask what’s in that,” Khine said with a sheepish grin.

“You’re trying to poison me again.”

“When have I ever?”

“You keep making me drink weird things.”

“It’ll help with the pain. An old recipe I got from an apothecary in Shang Azi. Runs a bookshop, too—roundest eyes I’ve ever seen on a woman. There’s poppy extract, and herbs…”

I grimaced. “An apothecary? Or a tavern?”

“Well, there’s also gin in it.”

“I knew it. You want me drunk.”

“It helps stabilize the infusion but yes, you are less snippy when you’re drunk.”

“If this is the extent of your powers of seduction, I can see why you don’t have anyone waiting for you here.” I took a sip. The concoction wasn’t as bad as he made it sound. It was fairly sweet, with a hint of sourness and spice mixed in with the earthiness of the herbs. I felt my senses blur; along with it, the pain began to subside, and it was suddenly easier to breathe.

He was staring at me now. “You almost died,” he said, his voice growing serious.

“Why didn’t I?”

“Rayyel’s friend.”

I pushed the cup away. “He’s here? It wasn’t a dream?”

Khine nodded.

“I remembered chasing after him, and then the dragon…”

“It is as you recall. Rayyel was in the mines trying to obtain featherstone samples for the mages in the temple.”

“A moment,” I said, trying to wrap my head around his words, because it still felt like someone was punching me with a brick. “Mages? Temple? I thought we were looking for a school of some sort.”

“It seems that the temple of Shimesu in the mountain has been taken over by mages the last few years. This may have been the academy pointed out to him. It seems that they are not entertaining visitors, and he has been here for weeks trying to convince them to speak with him.”

“Rayyel,” I repeated. “You talked to him?”

“Not exactly,” Khine said. “When you fell into the featherstone, his companion Namra stepped up to assist us. She’s a mage. She’s also a Kibouri priestess, as it happens.”

“That’s impossible,” I said. “We don’t dabble in the agan in Jin-Sayeng.”

“I thought so, too. But this was how she introduced herself. I didn’t argue. We took you back here. Your husband stayed in the mines.”

“Qun’s soldiers…”

“He knows about them. He’s a smart man—he’s been hiding from them the past few days and didn’t seem concerned. And he’s safe from the featherstone, I’ve been led to believe. A spell. Namra’s been studying how to protect oneself from the worst of it.” Khine scratched his chin. “She helped me flush it out of you, actually. Without her, you’d be dead by now.”

“Do I want to know how you flushed it out of me?”

He grimaced. “Water and spells and…”

“Never mind. This Namra.” I paused, remembering a priestess of Kibouri that evening I met with Rayyel in Anzhao City. I remembered calling her by my horse’s name. I bit back a moment of indignation—I had been so angry that night. “I suppose she’s been with Rayyel this whole time.”

“She returned to the mines yesterday after the worst was over. She wanted to give him a full report on your condition. They will be back, Tali,” he quickly added, noticing my restlessness. “They’ve secured lodging here, paid for in advance. Now please, eat before you talk again. You were asleep for three days.”

I lifted the rim of the bowl to my lips. The soup was sour and creamy, the noodles thick and soft. My hunger made me finish the meal, but my mind was in a daze. Khine bent forward to take the empty bowl.

“When I fell…” I began. I struggled to find the words. “What did he do?”

“You mean, your husband? I didn’t notice. All I cared about was you.” Khine took a deep breath. “I think he ordered the priestess to follow us. It was very dark there, Tali.”

“But he cared enough to send her.”

He hesitated before nodding.

“So why does he want to kill our son?” I turned to him helplessly.

Khine’s face softened. He placed his hand on my arm. “I can’t answer for him,” he murmured. “I can tell you that for a man to go through such lengths as he has for hate seems…a bit too much. Not with what you have told me about him, with the kind of man he seems to be. You wouldn’t have loved him in the first place if he wasn’t a good man.”

Choking down the tears felt like swallowing nails. “That doesn’t tell me anything. Love. Love is meaningless in our world. We move to the beat of our ancestors, of our clans. I need to know if he thinks he is doing this because he has to or because he wants to. My child’s life is at stake here.”

“I never said I had a gift with words.” His eyes turned to the door. Agos was standing there, arms crossed.

“I heard you were awake,” Agos said. “Welcome back, Princess.”

“She still needs to rest,” Khine replied.

“I know,” Agos snapped. He nodded. “There’s one inn in the village, if you could even call it that, and it’s full. The rest of us are staying at the mayor’s. He insisted on having you in this hovel.”

Khine made a sound in the back of his throat. “She needed peace and quiet.”

Agos ignored him, his eyes fixed on me. “So you’ve found him. Prince Rayyel. He doesn’t want to see you, seems like, or he’d be here now. What do you want me to do?”

I folded my hands over my knees. “I want you to let me figure it out.”

“You said you’d give the order to kill him if it comes to it.”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

Agos snorted. “Talking to him—you’ve already tried that. He’s dead set on getting rid of Thanh. You know why, don’t you? He wants you and Thanh out of the way so he can sit on the Dragonthrone alone.”

“Rai’s not like that.”

“The hell he’s not,” Agos hissed. “The Ikessars are sneaky. They know how to act and what to say, but to trust an Ikessar—his mother did everything she could to get her hands on your father. She would’ve wrung the life out of Warlord Yeshin if she could—she was just as ruthless as he was.” He sighed. “I know you’re not going to listen.”

“Good. You’re learning.”

“What if you let him have it?”

“I’m sorry?”

“The Dragonthrone. Let Rayyel have it.”

“I already brought that up,” Khine broke in.

Agos barely glanced at him. “We can pretend to cooperate long enough to get home. And then take Thanh and just run. To the Kag, to Dageis, away from the rest of them. I know you don’t like this half as much as you pretend to.”

I felt Khine’s eyes on me as I considered Agos’s words. The image of me taking my son away from all of this filled me with the same mad longing I experienced when I saw that airship in the sky. But the thought passed as quickly as it came. “I can’t do that,” I found myself saying. “I wouldn’t deny my son his legacy. He will be Lord of Oren-yaro someday. My father’s grandson…” My heart ached, hearing the words. I imagined Thanh’s face, so clearly Yeshin’s shadow with nary a trace of his own father. Did my father mean more to me than my son? “Don’t speak of this again.”

Agos took a deep breath, a clear sign that he wasn’t going to argue any further—at least, not for today.

“I’ll stay here,” I continued. “Keep an eye for Rayyel. Send word as soon as he returns to the village.”

“Beloved Queen.” He bowed and strode out. I fell back into the bed.

“Would you?” Khine asked. “Give it all up?”

I stared at the fan as it skipped with the breeze. There were a hundred answers in my head, all very surprising. I settled on one.

“My father fought too hard for this.”

If people were sensible, after all, the War of the Wolves would’ve been over in an afternoon.

Instead, the Ikessars responded to my father’s call for parley with hidden knives and poison. Support Yeshin, their actions said, and your livelihood dies, your family dies, you die. That something good was able to come out of that tangled mess was still seen as a miracle by historians and common people alike.

If I stepped down, who would take over?

Rayyel?

Like Rayyel could rule anything that couldn’t be shoved into a bookshelf or folded into a desk. If I handed the throne over to him, I would be giving it up to the hissing tongues and venomous fangs in the shadows. Who else lay hidden in the dark? His mother Ryia had not even left the Citadel in the mountains for over twenty years out of fear for her own life. My own mother-in-law, whom I’ve never met—not even during the wedding she had agreed to. I don’t think she had ever even formally acknowledged me—some of my advisers claimed it was because I did not take the Ikessar name, which was ridiculous, because it was one of the terms my father had demanded: that we rule equally, the way our people used to long before the Ikessars came to power. All my brothers were dead; I was his only heir.

It wasn’t as if I was expecting open arms and warm embraces. The acceptance Khine’s mother offered, for example, was something beyond my experience as queen. She had been unprepared for the sudden arrival of all her children and coped by doting on me instead. When she learned I was to stay in her hut during my recovery, she looked thrilled. She even gave Khine a layered look, the message quite clear in her raised eyebrows.

“I liked it better when you thought she was my patient,” Khine grumbled.

“Well, she’s someone. I thought the next time you came home it would be with Jia.”

“Thao already told you—Jia was years ago.” Khine looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, having this conversation. He wouldn’t look at either of us, and he answered as if out of habit.

“And you never thought to tell your old mother when it ended? I had guessed, of course—for you to fall silent after so much excitement could’ve only meant the worst—but I would’ve still appreciated the news. Are you ever going to get married, Khine?”

“The way she goes on,” Khine told me a few days later, when I was strong enough to take a few steps out of the hut, each one bringing us further away from the shadow of the tight houses, “you’d think she didn’t have two eligible daughters to worry about.”

I paused to catch my breath. “Can I please see you tell that to Inzali’s face?”

He grimaced, as if the thought terrified him. “I’m not saying anyone has to get married. I’m just saying it would be more fair to spread our dear mother’s judgment around.”

I pretended to narrow my eyes. “I see.”

He scratched the back of his head. “Feel free to call me an idiot, as my sisters readily do.”

“I’ll save it for later. But you don’t think you’re an eligible son? You’re clearly her favourite.”

“We all have our own opinions about that. Thao never gets any trouble from her and Cho gets away with everything. No—she expects more from me as the eldest. Everything I do must be…perfect.” He smiled. “I know how that must sound, especially to you.”

I shook my head. “I am starting to learn that commoners and royals share more troubles than I’ve been led to believe.”

I had been told before our journey that Phurywa was a village at the edge of the sea. I had imagined some sort of fishing village like the ones I had been to back home—small clusters of huts and hovels along the side of the road. But the houses here were built along a narrow peninsula and a few small islands, connected by wooden bridges that swayed with every gust of wind. We were on the peninsula itself, overlooking a bay filled with pebbly red and grey sand. I could also see a deep-blue lake the shape of an hourglass in the distance. Grass-covered cliffs rose sharply from one end of the lake.

On the other end, I saw the remains of buildings and broken rubble, more than the mining town in the Ruby Grove. It reminded me of Old Oren-yaro—of the abandoned section of my city that had been torn apart by the last Dragonlord’s mad dragon.

“You said this was a village,” I pointed out.

“What else is it?” he asked.

“It looks like it used to be a city.”

“It was,” he said. “Long before my parents’ time, when Lay Weng Shio was its own nation and not the shadow it is today. The empire burned the city to the ground to teach my people the price of defiance. To remind ants that a giant is not easily toppled.”

“Your people must have other cities.”

“Maybe,” he said. “Further down south, the empire left a few still standing. If you destroyed everything, after all, you’d have to deal with the people coming in, and I’m almost sure the empire doesn’t really want that. But I’ve never been to them. For all I know, they’re caricatures crawling with the empire’s officials, as bad as the seediest depths of Anzhao.”

“You’ve got no desire to find out?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not easy to think about what could have been when you know very well it won’t do a damn thing. We fought against the empire, and they won. What you are looking at is…the spoils of war.”

I had to pause, listening to his words. Old Oren-yaro alone was painful enough to look at on the best of days. Imagining the rest of my nation falling into such shambles was more than I could bear. What if my people started speaking of Jin-Sayeng with the bitterness on Khine’s tongue? Burdening them with a history marked by nothing but loss seemed almost too cruel.

“Nevertheless. It’s beautiful here, Khine,” I said, to distract myself from my thoughts.

“There’s a path up there that leads to the mountain temple,” Khine said. “I’ve asked around. The villagers…don’t want to talk about it.”

I tore myself away from the scenery. “Is that odd?”

“Let’s just say the people here aren’t like the ones in Anzhao,” Khine said. “I haven’t been home in years and they already consider me a stranger. So I can’t tell if it’s because they won’t speak with me or they have something to hide. Bribing them doesn’t normally work, either.”

“What makes you think they’re hiding things?”

Khine didn’t reply immediately. He led me to the end of the settlement, where a low rock slope led to a tidal pool. Waves bubbled over the sharp edges, which teemed with barnacles and mussels. I also spotted a crab daintily making its way along the shoreline.

“I asked my mother,” he said, when he was sure that we were out of earshot. “Asked her if she’s heard about these mages, or anything happening up at the temple. Everything I learned came from Namra. But Ma only wanted to talk about you. And I figured maybe she was just frightened for your sake, because she was convinced you were Jia at first, and I never really found the time to explain to her until we knew you were on the mend. I brought it up this morning again and instead of replying, she announced she was going to visit Inzali and the others.

“I tried the others and they were all tight-lipped. I’m still not sure if it means anything—they’re mostly old folks, these ones who remained in Phurywa. Fishing is poor in this region and the road is badly connected. Almost everyone who grew up here has left. I’m not even sure we have young families around anymore. I haven’t seen any children.”

“It’s possible there’s pressure from the mages,” I said. “They went through quite the trouble of keeping their location secret.”

“That’s what I thought, too.”

“Will you bring me to where everyone is staying? I’d like to speak with them.”

“It’s by the bay. You sure you can walk that far?”

I nodded. “I think I’m strong enough, and it’ll get the blood running.”

“You’re such a good patient. And I’m not just saying that for my mother’s benefit.” Khine held out his hand. I stared at it. A week ago, I would’ve taken it without a problem.

He must’ve noticed the look on my face, because he dropped his arm to the side before I could reply. “I’ve forgotten—your husband could return to the village any moment.”

“I don’t want to make more trouble,” I mumbled. “At least, no more than what we’ve already had.”

“We’ll walk really slow, then.”

There was an eerie silence as we returned to the street. I tried to ignore it and focused on the furtive glances the villagers threw our way. I saw what Khine said about the village population—our black hair stood out in a sea of grey and white. Many of the residents were much older than Khine’s mother. Some were so gaunt they looked like skeletons as they gathered around their outdoor stoves, fanning the flames while they waited for the evening’s pot of rice. They were also grilling thin strips of fish over the charcoal.

“If there is not much around here,” I found myself whispering, trying to catch up to Khine, “how do people live?”

Khine hesitated before he answered. “Sons and daughters send money. Once every few weeks, the elders use it to hire a wagon to buy supplies from the next town.”

“What your mother’s been feeding me, that didn’t come from her pantry, did it?”

“The mayor’s daughter is Inzali’s friend. They’ve been providing everything.” He paused. “Why did you ask?”

“Did you see what they were cooking back there? There were five pieces of fish—one for every elder. My thumb is wider than those things. Surely you know what starvation looks like.”

He swallowed. “Ma never said anything.”

“How long have you been away, Khine?”

“Nearly ten years,” he croaked out.

Too long, I found myself thinking. If an entire ocean could come between me and Rayyel in five…

Not that it was the same thing, and I needed to learn to stop bringing my personal issues into everything. I grabbed the ropes as we made our way across the first bridge, built over a rocky cliff that separated the peninsula into two. A man passed by us, carrying steaming bamboo baskets. He was dressed in the blood-red robes that marked him as a priest of Shimesu, with the beaded belt that went twice around his waist. I smelled the scent of cooked rice with lemongrass.

“I guess someone else has been feeding them,” I said, turning around to watch the man saunter down the street. A crowd was beginning to gather around him.

Khine paused. “Perhaps,” he murmured. My words must have struck a chord. I of all people should have known the hollow echo of failed expectations.

“I apologize if I made you worry,” I said. “Your mother seems perfectly healthy.” In the distance, the priest was unwrapping the contents of his baskets and handing them out to people. “You see? The fine priests of Shimesu…”

The priest grabbed the first outstretched hand and stabbed the arm with a needle-like implement. There was a vial immediately under. I was too far away to see what else was happening, but I heard a low groan.

Khine was gone from my side before I could blink. The bridge swayed with my efforts as I hobbled after him.

“What is this?” he thundered, approaching the crowd.

Blood was trickling from the end of the implement straight into the vial. The priest pulled away to cap it and wiped his hands on his robes. He handed the woman a rice ball wrapped in lotus leaves, and only then got up to face Khine. “Who are you?” he asked. Behind his hood, I caught a glimpse of a hooked nose and thick, brushy eyebrows.

“It doesn’t matter,” Khine said. “I’m asking what you’re doing to these people.”

“That’s Mei Lamang’s son!” someone called from the crowd. “Let the priest be, boy!”

“Khine Lamang,” the priest said, his eyes lighting up in recognition. “You’re Inzali’s famous brother, the physician we’ve heard so much about. You don’t remember me, do you? Why should you? You used to be such an arrogant son of a bitch. But I suppose anyone would be, the way your family goes on about you. A boy from this village making such a big name in Anzhao City—and to have studied under Tashi Reng Hzi himself! It’s been all Mei could talk about for years. Which reminds me—I haven’t seen Mei all last week. I hope she’s well.”

Khine took another step closer to him. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“Your hostility is—”

Khine grabbed him by the shirt.

“I would listen to him if I were you,” I said as I reached them. “Make this easy for all of us.”

The priest’s eyes darted to me before falling back on Khine. “I’m taking blood samples,” he finally grumbled. “Nothing wrong with that. Half of these people are sick.”

“Sick from what?”

“Featherstone exposure. You’d know that, being here and all.” The priest licked his lips. “We’re doing a study on the effects of it on the local populace. Purely for…future incidents.”

“There won’t be future incidents unless you’re planning to open up the mines again.”

“Not my concern. I was just asked to do this.”

“You’re bleeding them in exchange for food.” Khine’s voice was shaking. I found myself reaching for his elbow.

“Let’s not stir up trouble,” I said.

The priest nodded. “Listen to the lady. They’re letting me do this. I’m not forcing anyone.”

Khine looked like he wanted to throw up.