Circle of Shadows (Circle of Shadows, #1)(71)

Oh, stinkbug, Sora thought. She wanted to gather her sister in her arms. But it was too soon for that.

“We can scrape off the burnt part,” Sora said. “I’m sure the meat underneath is still edible.”

“I’m not hungry,” Hana said. She pouted at the other supplies they’d brought. A jumble of poles and canvas leaped to attention and assembled itself, magically, of course, into a tent in less time than it had taken for Sora to put the fox fire out.

Sora smiled. There was pride in watching your little sister surpass your abilities. Even if it stung a little.

She left Hana alone to let out her frustration. If this was anything like the tantrums she used to throw when she was a tenderfoot, Hana would run out of steam in a few minutes. Sora turned back to the smoldering remains of the fire, the embers still popping in the remnants of the wood.

As she sat there watching the smoke curling into the sky, though, a dull headache took root. It wasn’t sharp, but more like a constant thrum or a quiet drumbeat at the back of her skull. The rhythm was so well established, it was as if it had been there for a long while. There was also something strangely familiar about it.

What was it?

The mild throb continued, slow and steady. For some reason, it reminded Sora of being asleep, on the cusp of waking.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Like muffled knocking on a door.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Oh. Sora sat up and pressed her hand to the back of her head. She could practically feel the beat in her fingers.

Her gemina bond.

The drumming felt like Daemon pushing gently against her mental ramparts on weekend mornings when she slept in, trying to wake her so they could go to the sparring ring. Is that what this was now? Daemon trying to get her attention.

She hadn’t thought about him much recently, just occasional bursts now and then that quickly faded away because she’d been moving nonstop since becoming a ryuu. But now the balance in her mind felt off. Sora’s feelings weren’t supposed to be alone; Daemon’s were their companion, rounding Sora out to make her whole.

She missed the sensation of his laugh, that feeling like a field of wildflowers had all bloomed at once. She craved the smirk of his jokes. She even wanted the way his emotions leaned on her when he felt insecure.

Sora moved to lower her mental ramparts.

Immediately, though, the warm tide of her promise to Prince Gin rushed in, washing away her yearning for Daemon like a wave erases marks in the sand. You’ve outgrown him, it seemed to remind her.

Yes, she thought, as the heat of ryuu conviction flowed through her, renewed. Sora’s commitment to the Dragon Prince was the only gemina she needed now. The thrumming in Sora’s head faded until it was nearly inaudible. Merely distant background noise.

Sora settled back into her spot in front of the campfire. She remembered her sister, and looked over at where Hana stood by the tents, arms crossed, still huffing.

Hana had been too talented for her own good, in some respects. Among the ryuu, she was always the best, and she was unofficially Prince Gin’s second in command, even though she was only sixteen. Because of all her early success, she didn’t deal well with failure. Being less than perfect seemed to bother her, even if it was something as inconsequential as burning dinner.

“Hey,” Sora said gently, “come back and eat. It’s not bad at all once the char is scraped off. I promise.” She held out a chunk of meat skewered on a twig.

Her sister crossed her arms and huffed. But a minute later, she came back to the fire and accepted the offering. She took a bite.

“See?” Sora said.

Hana grumbled. “It’s all right.”

They devoured the entire fox—learning new magic made Sora even hungrier than usual—and licked their fingers when they were done. With bellies full, Hana relaxed a little, leaning back against a log.

“Is it a secret, where we’re going?” Sora asked, careful not to sound accusatory. “I only ask because you’re doing everything on your own right now, but I could contribute if you told me how.”

Hana nudged a twig into the fire. The flames crackled.

“I can’t let the prince down,” she said, rubbing her face with her hands. “But I . . . gods, this is stupid.”

Sora scooted closer to her. “Nothing’s stupid. Tell me, and we’ll fix it.”

“I drn rahr ri I cah rii rit,” she mumbled straight into her hands.

“Didn’t get that,” Sora said.

Hana ripped her hands away and glared at her. “I don’t know if I can do it, okay?” she shouted. “I hate Empress Aki. But that doesn’t mean I can kill her. She’s the gods-damn empress. I mean . . . as ryuu, we’re trained to protect the Dragon Prince. Yet that somehow gets twisted in my head, and I get stuck on the idea that I should protect—not hurt—the current ruler. Oh gods, it makes no sense. Please don’t tell anyone. I swear, I’m one hundred percent loyal to Prince Gin.”

Sora dared to wrap her arm around Hana. And to her surprise, Hana tucked her head into the crook of Sora’s neck, just like she used to do when they were little.

Her sister’s doubt about carrying out this mission made sense too. The Society was built on a rigid hierarchy, and even though Hana had been there for only a short time, her mind had always operated well under that kind of order. She’d looked up to Sora not only because she was her older sister but also because Sora outranked her. It was the same reason Hana went stomping around and barking at the ryuu now. She outranked them, and she felt compelled to remind everyone of it.