Circle of Shadows (Circle of Shadows, #1)(83)

She took small bites and chewed deliberately, forcing herself into a sugar-and-flour-centered meditation. After two cookies, her breathing began to slow.

Maybe instead of contemplating the overwhelming task of stopping the momentum of the Dragon Prince’s world war, it would help if Sora focused on a smaller scale. She began to think methodically about the advantages the ryuu had over the taigas. If there was a weakness that could be exposed, the Society might have a chance.

All right, she thought. Let’s start at the beginning.

Ryuu power was based on the same magic as the taigas’.

Taigas needed mudras and chants to cast spells, whereas the ryuu didn’t. Therefore, ryuu could fight physically and magically at the same time, whereas taigas could only do one or the other.

Taiga spells were impressive, but the taigas didn’t know how to do more than enhance their own existing physical skills. Ryuu used the same magic, but they understood it on a more fundamental level, and so they could control things outside of their bodies—weather, elements, insects, inanimate objects.

Sora drummed her fingers on her knee. If it were a battle between taiga magic and ryuu magic, the ryuu would win every time. So what she needed to do was find a way to stop the ryuu from being able to use their magic at all. But how? It’s not like the taigas could just bind all the ryuu’s hands in iron shackles. Ryuu didn’t need to form mudras to cast their spells. All they needed was a thought, and the magic did their bidding.

She grumbled at the emerald particles floating in the air in front of her. They sparkled, oblivious to her frustration.

Sora blinked at them and sat up straight. A smile touched the corner of her lips.

The ryuu might not rely on mudras and chants like taigas did, but they still relied on something else—they needed to be able to see the magic they were calling in order to use it. Hence, Prince Gin gifting them with Sight.

If we can blind them, we’ll have a chance.

The taigas wouldn’t be able to count on throwing stars and shooting arrows at the ryuu’s eyes, though. Too many ryuu would be able to defend themselves from that kind of attack. Sora needed to come up with a way to surprise them and to blind them all at once.

Enchant handkerchiefs to tie around their eyes?

No, same problem as relying on weapons. It would be too difficult to control so many at once and get all the ryuu.

An enormous blanket?

Or a giant mirror. Sora thought of Fairy primping whenever they were going on leave, doing her hair and makeup so she could seduce as many boys as possible when they went into town. Sometimes, her compact would catch the sunlight and throw a blinding flash onto Sora’s side of the room.

But where could she find a mirror big enough?

She remembered what Hana had said a while ago, at the beginning of training—Follow the magic, and it will take you exactly where you need to go. Hana had meant it physically, but what if it could be something more? What if it could guide Sora to what she wanted or needed?

“All right,” she said quietly to herself. “Let’s see how well this magic can understand my thoughts.” She focused in front of her until the emerald particles appeared, swirling in the air.

“Take me where I need to go.”

The green particles danced into a line, and a path shimmered before her.

She followed it through the trees, climbing over slippery mossed boulders and snagging her ankles in the dense foliage. She crossed a creek and trailed the magic up an incline, pushing her way through branches all the way.

Fifteen minutes outside of camp, she came to a clearing at the top of a hill. Sora commanded the magic to sharpen her vision.

Everything came into focus. Straight through the trees, the Imperial City stood proudly—the Citadel’s dark, forbidding walls guarding the bottom, and Rose Palace presiding above, its crystal walls gleaming brightly under the moon.

So brightly, it was as if it were a sign from Luna herself.

Sora gasped and stared with her mouth open. Adrenaline cartwheeled through her veins, the same wondrous, satisfied feeling she got whenever she came up with a new scheme. A grin spread across her face. She knew what she needed to do.

“Thank you, little magic particles. You really did show me the way.”

There was a very slight noise behind her, imperceptible to anyone but those with the most sensitive of taiga ears. Sora whipped around, throwing stars already between her fingers.

Hana emerged from the trees, hands up. “It’s just me,” she said. “I saw you leave camp, and I was curious. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting.”

Sora shook her head and put her throwing stars back in the band across her chest. “You’re not. I wanted to see the stars.” It was the first excuse that came into her head. So many countless nights she’d spent with Daemon on the rooftops at the Citadel, just contemplating the sky.

She suddenly wondered what he was doing now. Was he above the dormitory, stretching his arm up as he often did, reaching for the stars that always seemed to have a pull on him?

“Ah,” Hana said. “You had to get out from under the trees to see.”

Sora nodded.

Her sister walked up to the crest of the hill and stood beside her.

“Do you remember the myth you used to tell me when I was little?” Hana pointed at a rabbit constellation.

“The one about the god of night’s children?”