Sacrifice

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the word marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

Copyright © 2016 by Cindy Pon

SACRIFICE by Cindy Pon

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Month9Books, LLC.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

EPub ISBN: 978-1-945107-20-7 Mobi ISBN: 978-1-945107-21-4

Paperback ISBN: 97
8-1-944816-92-6 Hardback ISBN: 978-1-944816-52-0

Published by Month9Books, Raleigh, NC 27609

Cover design by Najla Qamber Design

Cover illustration by Zachary Schoenbaum

Interior illustration by Grace Fong at
www.gracepfong.com

For Holly Black, Sarah Rees Brennan, and Delia Sherman.

I will always remember those sunlit hours on the patio in

Mexico with a warm heart. Thank you for sharing your magic with me
.

Skybright

Daybreak unfurled across the gray horizon, tendrils of light illuminating magnificent jade peaks, their sloping and jagged points dissolving into mist. Skybright had seen these famous Xia mountains painted by artists on vertical scrolls—the masterpieces hung in the main hall of the Yuan manor. She remembered being mesmerized by the paintings in ink, touched with the subtlest hints of stone green or accents of red. But as evocative as the paintings were, they were nothing compared to the actuality—her mind couldn’t have imagined this landscape if she had tried.

The sunlight was distant, and the chill from the night lingered on this mountain ledge. Warmth emanated from Stone, a constant, as was his rich, earthen scent that had become familiar to her. Dressed in full armor—silver and gold etched in crimson—the sole piece missing was his helmet. His black hair was pulled back in a topknot. Stone had brought her here through a portal with no explanation.

Skybright stepped toward the edge and peered down; it was impossibly high. A giant lake glinted like obsidian far below. Two fishing rafts drifted on the dark water, more minute than a child’s toy, although even from this distance, she could sense the humans’ presence. The fresh scent of pine needles drifted to her always,
always
reminding her of Kai Sen. Clenching her jaw, she willed the ache in her chest to disperse.

It had been nine days, she believed, since Stone had forced her to give up everything she had ever known and had ripped her from her mortal life so Zhen Ni and Kai Sen would live theirs. Skybright’s sacrifice had been enough to satisfy an age-old covenant between the gods and mortals; it closed the breach from the underworld, putting a stop to demons escaping into the mortal realm. But when she was with Stone, time felt amorphous, stretching onward, languid and never-ending—the days melded together, difficult to track.

She hummed to herself, not realizing until Stone asked, “What is that tune?”

Abruptly, she stopped. “I don’t know … I think it was ‘The Hermit’s Climb,’” she replied after a pause.

“Your mother used to do that,” Stone said. “Opal was always singing or humming a song under her breath.”

“Tell me more about her,” Skybright said. She had never given a second thought to her lineage before, not until she woke one night with a serpent’s tail, and Nanny Bai told her she had found Skybright as a newborn, abandoned in the forest.

He turned and regarded her. “She was beautiful,” he said, “and a powerful serpent demon.”

She jerked her chin up, challenging him with a stare. “Was there nothing
human
about her at all? Or did she merely seduce and kill men for pleasure?” She craved to know more about her mother. There was no denying her serpent half; that she was Opal’s daughter. But how alike were they?

“I always thought her pleasure in song was her most human trait,” Stone said. “It softened her.”

His perceptive observation surprised Skybright. Stone was often hopeless when it came to understanding mortals. Skybright had been a handmaid all her life and had learned to read people, to pick up on their moods and anticipate their needs. She had thought she was very good at it, until she met Stone. He simply didn’t think or react the same way she expected a person to, but then again, he was immortal. “She must have had a beautiful voice,” she said.

“A
beautiful
voice? No. It was
glorious
. It was part of her natural charm. Men fell in love with her simply for her voice.” He smiled, his chiseled jawline cut so perfectly, it mimicked the statues hewn of gods. Stone had always been cold and aloof with others but seemed to allow himself to open up in her presence, as if he’d known her even before their first meeting.

“Oh.” Skybright tried hard to imagine her mother, her face lifted in song. What did she look like? “Thank you,” she murmured.

“I have finally said the right thing?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied and almost smiled back. He sounded so proud, like a boy who had caught a fish in the river for the first time. But she could never confuse his seductive charisma and the scraps of information he divulged for kindness. She was Stone’s captive, a prisoner of his will.

“I have never heard you sing,” he said.

“I usually sing when I’m alone … and feeling content.” The barb was probably too subtle for him.

“Will you sing for me?” Stone asked.

Skybright colored, and a burst of annoyance shot through her. “Is that a command?”

“I do not command you.”

“You force me away from the people I love forever in exchange for their lives. And you have the nerve to say that you don’t command me?”