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“You don’t have any plans this evening.” Dian ruthlessly dismantles my excuses. “Ruilin and I will help Father with dinner. If you’re late, we’ll save you a plate.”
As they walk away, their hands clasped, I grind my teeth in silence. Shenming watches them for a while. “Dian has always lacked subtlety,” he remarks after a brief pause. “Don’t worry, I won’t misinterpret the situation or your reluctance to join me. Nor will I keep you long. It’s a short ride to the peak, and I’ll send you home in the carriage after, in time for dinner. Tell your family any story you want and I’ll confirm it.”
“Thank you,” I say with a laugh, my spirits lifting at his candor. I like the way he speaks, different from those who hide what they mean. Maybe he is someone I can trust.
The ride is as short as he promised, the carriage rolling up the slope effortlessly. When it halts, the captain helps me out.
My breath catches. We’re standing on the edge of a cliff, the wind gliding over us like a silk cloak as the lights of the island shine beneath, flowers and lanterns strung like chains of pearls. The Radiant Sky Trees gleam on the horizon, their sweet fragrance infused with citrus. Being here is like standing beneath a canopy of stars, the heavens fractured with light.
“In the Iron Mountains the stars felt farther away—not as clear nor bright,” I say.
“Did you like growing up there? Do you miss it?” Shenming asks.
“No, the only people I miss are buried in the earth. I have a step-aunt, but neither of us cares for the other. I don’t wish her well—but I no longer wish her ill either. Well, maybe a little ill,” I admit. “I wouldn’t mind if she lost all her stolen gains and broke a few limbs as retribution.”
“You are honest. And vicious.” He laughs. “I will endeavor to never upset you.”
“Then we shall get along,” I say with a smile.
Ahead, the researchers are huddled in groups, many staring into the skies, a few writing furiously in their books. “What are they looking for?”
“Any movement in the dragon constellation, which can only be seen from our island,” Shenming explains. “If we miss it, we will lose the chance to find the waterfall.”
Fear stabs me for the Sun Dragon’s well-being. How frail he was when I carried him, yet he spoke to me with such wisdom and strength. The dragon’s trust is a gift I will always cherish. Although I’m afraid too… what if I cannot relinquish this dangerous magic?
I’m tempted to confide in Shenming, except the Moon Dragon advised discretion, and I do not know him well enough. “I hope we find the waterfall soon,” I say instead, tilting my head to the sky.
His gaze trails mine. “We can study the stars, but cannot dictate how they move.”
A heaviness sinks over me; I’ve never been inclined to trust in the stars. “Is there someone we can seek guidance from? Has anyone ever been to the waterfall?”
“No—not even the Elders. This is a rare phenomenon. Moreover, only those accompanied by a dragon can enter the Waterfall of Eternal Night.”
The birthplace of the dragons. If we don’t find it soon, it will mark the death of one.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE NEXT DAY, AFTER BREAKFAST, DIAN AND I HEAD OUTSIDE. She pauses beneath the magnolia tree, resting her hand upon it. Though their flowers have fallen away, a trace of their scent somehow remains. “I remember Mother sitting beneath the tree, her favorite place. After she was gone, it helped to imagine her watching over us here, to believe that as long as the tree stands all of her isn’t lost.”
I close my eyes, trying to see our mother through my sister’s eyes, the wind whispering through the leaves like a prayer… words akin to my name, a brush against my hair that could be the shadow of a touch.
“Fairy tales I told myself,” Dian says wryly.
“No.” I look at her. “Mother is still here—in you, in me too.”
The ceaseless turmoil within calms momentarily, yielding to an elusive sense of belonging that’s been growing each day here. While I was afraid at first to allow these roots to settle, to care for something that might be snatched away, my caution has been blunted by contentment. By happiness.
“When I first returned, this place didn’t feel like home,” I confess to Dian. “Everything was new and strange. I didn’t remember my room, our garden, this tree. Father seemed a stranger. Sometimes I wondered whether life would have been easier for all of you if I never returned.”
“You’re a fool.” Dian glares at me. “Do you think I left on a whim, searching for a sister I didn’t want?”
Her tone rankles. Yet her anger stems from hurt, the wounds of our family numerous and deep. “I don’t believe that anymore,” I tell her instead. “This is my home now. I have new memories of us—of Mother too, from what you and Father shared. Small things that make her come alive: the food she preferred, what she liked to do, the things she said. You and Father helped me find my way back through new eyes, through yours.”
Dian’s expression softens. “We are family.”
“Always,” I say, my eyes stinging.
She clasps my hand, both of us silent. At last, Dian sighs. “We must begin your training to control the dragon’s magic. The Elders are still unaware of what happened; we can’t risk them finding out.”
