Serpentine (32 page)

Kai Sen and Zhen Ni stood in a narrow alley in front of a wooden door set in mud-colored walls. One faded paper door god was plastered on the door, its edges curling with age. They were dressed in the same clothes as when Skybright had last seen them, although both Zhen Ni and Kai Sen must have taken the opportunity to wash up. They seemed weary, but less travel worn.

“You’re certain this was the manor where Lan told you she lived?” Kai Sen asked.

Skybright let out a low hiss, leaning in closer to the bronze bowl. She could hear Kai Sen speak as clearly as if she stood beside him.

Her mistress shifted on her feet, wringing her hands, her impatience so obvious Skybright imagined she could taste it on her tongue. “Yes, I’d memorized it.”

Kai Sen nodded then raised his fist to pound on the door. They waited long moments before it was pulled open by Lan’s mother, Lady Fei. They truly were much lower in stature than the Yuans, if Lady Fei was answering the outer door herself. It wasn’t a task that even Skybright had ever tended to.

“Zhen Ni!” Lady Fei exclaimed. She was dressed in a simple peach tunic and trousers, unadorned with decorations. “What an unexpected surprise.” She gave Kai Sen a sidelong glance, and the corners of her rosebud mouth pulled down in a frown. “Is everything all right?’

“Lady Fei, I apologize for not sending notice that I would be visiting.” Zhen Ni gripped her hands so, Skybright knew, she could still them. “No one has come from the Yuan manor before me?”

“No,” Lady Fei said. “No one.”

So the search group led by the head servant, Golden Sparrow, never arrived. Skybright watched her mistress in the reflected water, and felt the same sense of foreboding Zhen Ni did. Nothing good could have come to the group, when they had traveled while the breach to the underworld was still open.

“I see,” Zhen Ni replied. Skybright could tell by the way her lips pursed a touch that she was thinking quickly, trying to gather herself. “Kai Sen was sent as my escort on this journey. He’s training to be a monk and is a close family friend.”

Kai Sen gave a formal bow, but not before Skybright caught the amused expression on his face.

“Welcome, Kai Sen,” Lady Fei dipped her chin. “But why are you here, Zhen Ni?”

“I’ve come to visit Lan!” Zhen Ni’s words were pitched too high, and she cleared her throat. “Is Lan here?”

Lady Fei’s thin eyebrows lifted in surprise. “She is. Lan was so upset when she was sent back home early. I hope it wasn’t over something she did? Your mother gave little in way of explanation.”

So Lady Fei didn’t know.

“No, not at all,” Zhen Ni lied. “I was truly sorry to see her leave, too. I’ve missed her companionship so.”

“Lan will be so pleased—Lan!”

Lan pushed her way from behind Lady Yuan, cheeks flushed pink as a peony. “Zhen Ni,” she cried, before throwing her arms around Zhen Ni’s neck. Her mistress laughed and hugged the girl back.

“Come in, come in,” Lady Fei pulled the narrow door open, waving for Kai Sen and Zhen Ni to enter the modest courtyard. She turned away from the girls and walked down the stone path. “We were just sitting down for our midday meal.” Her voice was faint.

In that moment, Zhen Ni leaned forward to kiss Lan full on her lips, and Skybright almost laughed aloud before throwing a hand over her mouth. It was just like her mistress, Skybright thought, to be so bold. Lan melted into Zhen Ni, fingers gripping the dirty collar of her mistress’s tunic, kissing fervently, as if she couldn’t bear to ever let Zhen Ni go.

Skybright felt her own heart swell for her mistress, and the pain of losing Kai Sen for the first time. She hadn’t let herself think about it, but Zhen Ni and Lan’s reunion brought it achingly to the forefront of her mind.

Kai Sen had already vanished down the path, following Lady Fei. Skybright urged the scene to shift to him. Instead, the water within the bowl rippled, as if a pebble had been dropped into it, and the image dissipated, before reforming again.

Zhen Ni and Kai Sen sat in front of a camp fire, surrounded by pine trees towering like wraiths. Her mistress’s eyes were red-rimmed, as if she had been crying. Skybright crouched closer to the bowl, wanting to comfort Zhen Ni, even though she didn’t know what had upset her.

It was evening, and the fire cast leaping shadows on her mistress’s face. Zhen Ni sat clutching a travel blanket around her shoulders—Skybright’s own. She buried her face in the material for a moment, taking a deep breath. “This smells of her. Skybright’s always smelled like—”

“The forest,” Kai Sen said.

Her mistress lifted her face and smiled. “In springtime. When everything’s in bloom and fragrant.”

He nodded and cleared his throat, then picked up a stick to shift the wood within the fire, just for something to do.

“I didn’t notice it. We were together so much—her scent was always there.” Zhen Ni rubbed her eyes against the blanket. “I didn’t notice until we were separated. Then she found me, and I hugged her and—” She faltered. “It wasn’t until then I realized. And it felt like I was home again.” Her soft features suddenly tensed. “You don’t think Skybright is … like them?”

Like them
, Skybright thought.
Like all the other demons Kai had slain.

Evil.

Kai Sen’s dark eyebrows furrowed, and his hand rose unconsciously to touch where his birthmark had been. “Of course not. You know Skybright better than anyone. She’s still the same girl you grew up with.”

“Is she?” Zhen Ni spoke so softly that Skybright had to read her lips. The uncertainty in her mistress’s face felt as if someone were pounding Skybright’s chest with a hard fist. “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” her mistress finally said. “How do you know?”

“I can feel it.” He pressed a hand against his heart. “Here.”

Zhen Ni wrapped the blanket tighter around herself, and she and Kai Sen stared at each other until her mistress bowed her head. “I wish I could feel as certain as you do. I think the fact that I did know her better than anyone—was supposed to know her better than anyone—is what makes this hurt the most.” She swiped her cheek with one hand, as if she could scrub the thoughts away. “But in the end, it’s like I never knew her at all.”

“That’s not true,” Kai Sen said. “I’ve had longer to accept the idea of Skybright’s true nature. That’s all.”

Her mistress nodded, and Skybright suddenly caught herself. How could Zhen Ni still be her mistress when she was no longer her handmaid? Skybright blinked at the bright image of Kai Sen and Zhen Ni huddled before the fire. It only emphasized how much of an outcast she had become—spying on them from afar through magic, trapped in her demon form. She no longer belonged there, with them.

“Perhaps,” Zhen Ni said. “I’m sorry I never got the chance to say goodbye. To hear her explain things to me herself.” She rested her chin against her folded arms. “Thank you, for offering to take my place, Kai Sen.”

“It was the right thing to do.” Embarrassed, he turned away and began rummaging through his knapsack. “I was told by Abbot Wu after the breach closed that he wanted me to be his heir. That this was an honor. I was meant to witness the sacrifice.” Kai Sen gave a slight shake of his head, and his hair fell across his brow. Skybright wanted to reach through the water, to brush it back, like she used to. “It didn’t seem right. It didn’t
feel
right, that he was willing to sacrifice an innocent life because of some age-old covenant. None of the other monks even know the truth.” He cleared his throat. “Here, eat something,” he said, passing her a wedge of sesame flatbread rolled with slices of stewed beef.

Skybright could smell it.

Zhen Ni smiled and extended her hand to accept the food. “You sound like Skybright.” Her mistress took a few bites, and she and Kai Sen ate in silence for a while. “She told you her secret, but not me.”

He wiped his hands on a cloth. “I found out by accident. And to think she believes now that I had abandoned her in that cage on purpose.” His face hardened. “I swear I never would have if I’d known it was truly her. I’d been fighting monsters every night for weeks, and what kept me going, what kept me alive, was the image of her in my mind. When I first saw her as a serpent demon—when I almost
killed
her—” Kai Sen threw a rock with a swift furious motion into the dark forest—a motion that was entirely different from the young man who had shown Skybright how to skip stones across the water. Who had told her with a grin that he enjoyed jumping as a pastime. “I wasn’t able to grasp it, to accept it. Now she may never know how much I love her.”

“Oh, Kai Sen,” Zhen Ni said, and her voice broke. Her mistress was thinking of her, Skybright knew, but she was also remembering Lan. “She knows.”

Kai Sen flashed her mistress a half smile that almost made Skybright knock the bronze bowl over. She stilled, too afraid to disturb the image, to break the enchantment that allowed her this small comfort.

“Thank you for coming with me to see Lan. Skybright knew how much it meant to me. And it was like you were there in her stead.” Zhen Ni sighed, a sigh that seemed to tremor through her entire being. So her mistress and Lan had parted ways, probably for the final time. Skybright’s chest ached that she wasn’t there to console her. Zhen Ni looked small, exposed, in that vast forest, but Skybright knew that her spirit was strong.

“You care for Lan,” he said in a quiet voice. “You love her. As I love Skybright.”

Zhen Ni’s fingers clenched into fists. “How did you know?”

“I have eyes. It was obvious.” Kai Sen arranged his knapsack and blanket so he could settle down for the night. His fingers grazed the pale skin of his neck again, a nervous gesture that was new. It made him appear uncertain and vulnerable. “Love is obvious.”

Zhen Ni’s smile was tinged with sadness. “Do you think Lady Fei suspected?” She turned a jade bangle on her slender wrist—one that Skybright had seen on Lan. The only jewelry Lan had ever worn; Zhen Ni had gotten her keepsake.

“No. She didn’t want to see it.”

“And what do you think?” Her mistress posed the question to her feet, nestled beneath the blanket. “That I love another girl?”

“I think … ” Kai Sen lay down and folded his hands behind his head, gazing into the night sky. “I think that we don’t choose who we fall in love with. It just happens.” He closed his eyes. “Like springtime. Or the phases of the moon.”

Zhen Ni lay down as well, shifting on her side, the way she always liked to sleep. They were quiet for some time, each lost in thought. Finally, her mistress said, “Will you return to the monastery now?”

Kai Sen dipped his chin to stare into the flames, and it felt as if he were looking directly at Skybright. “After all I’ve seen? I’m not certain the monastery is the place for me anymore. But I promised Abbot Wu I’d return to give him my answer, whether I would be his heir.”

“I understand,” Zhen Ni murmured. “Nothing seems the same anymore, not after everything that’s happened … not now that Skybright’s gone.”

The cords of Kai Sen’s neck drew taut, and he looked away from the fire. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, one mournful note. “No,” he replied, his response barely audible. “Nothing is the same anymore—”

The image wavered, then dissipated. Skybright was left staring into the still water, her drop of blood dissolving. She gasped, and reared back.

“Did it work?” Stone asked.

“You didn’t see?”

“No. Only you are capable of capturing the vision. You peered into the bowl for just a moment.” The immortal was lying on his side a short distance from her, his head propped up casually in one hand. Any other time, she would have found the sight absurd; Skybright had never seen him so at ease.

“What I saw lasted much longer than a moment.” Skybright glanced into the bowl again. Her blood had vanished, leaving clear water once more. “But was it true, this vision?”

“Yes,” he said.

“I want to see them again.” She squeezed the finger Stone had pricked over the bowl. But the tiny wound had already closed magically. “Give me something sharp,” she demanded, casting her serpent coil about for a jagged rock on the floor.

Stone was a silver streak of motion; he crouched beside her before she could blink. He pulled her away from the bronze bowl, and it pinged a resonant tone before evaporating from sight. “I think you have bled enough for one day.”

“No! I need to know that they’ll be all right.” She pounded her fists against the ground, unwilling to believe that she would never see them again, never laugh with Zhen Ni or feel Kai Sen’s arms wrapped around her. A sharp pang shot through her injured arm and she slammed it down again and again, even more violently than before, savoring the pain. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. This fury was better than the grief that threatened to overwhelm her. The rage was her own, but the sorrow and loss had been forced upon her.

Stone caught her hand before she could strike a third time and kissed the inside of her wrist. All her senses leaped to that one spot where his lips met her flesh. “They will be safe, Skybright. I promise.” He drew her to him, and she leaned in, unable to resist.

“Why should I believe anything you say?” It still shocked her—that she sounded like the monster that she was.

“Because I have never lied to you,” Stone replied. “Unlike those mortals you care for so much.”

She had been breathing in Stone’s deep earthen scent but shoved away from him then. “Yes, people do lie. Because they’re imperfect. They feel deeply and they care.” She realized a moment too late that she had referred to mortals as something separate from herself. Irritated, she slithered away from him, circling the hollowed trunk with unrestrained fervor. “And you were wrong, Stone.” Skybright turned her head to see him gazing intently at her. “Kai Sen
is
special.”

The immortal’s expression didn’t change.

Maybe she shouldn’t have said it.

“Your mortal life is of the past, Skybright. Hold on to what memories you have, if it pleases you.” Stone shimmered from view and manifested again right in front of her. She glimpsed silver starlight in his fathomless eyes, and the glowing embers of hell. He touched her cheek for the briefest moment, then said, “For you will forget them soon enough. And what you can recall will only feel like a fleeting dream.”