Circle of Shadows (Circle of Shadows, #1)(87)

“Now, we are about to engage in battle against an army that seems on the outside more impressive than our own. They will dazzle and frighten with their magic. They will maim and bloody and not hesitate to kill. They will attempt to initiate the quest for the Evermore with the Ceremony of Two Hundred Hearts.”

Empress Aki paused at the center of the stage, letting the gravity of what she was saying sink in. Taigas slaughtered. Two hundred men, women, and children with their hearts cut out of their chests. The commencement of an unprecedented era of bloodshed and war.

Daemon held his breath, as did, it seemed, all the other apprentices and warriors around him.

“But do not forget this,” the empress said, again turning to look at each section of the crowd, so that every single taiga felt the golden warmth of her attention. “You are part of something greater than just this army assembled here, in the amphitheater, at this present time. You are part of a vast, proud history, a thousand years of taigas who have fought daunting foes and prevailed. You are part of not only the Society but the kingdom itself.

“You are Kichona.”

The Council fanned out behind her, arms crossed over their chests, backs straight, black scabbards gleaming under the moonlight. It was an impressive picture, and Daemon’s chest swelled with pride.

We may be about to face the ryuu, but the taigas are not something to trifle with either.

Then Empress Aki did something no one had ever seen before, in the long history of the kingdom: she dropped to her knees and bowed, stretching her body along the floor, lying prostrate before the taigas.

“Your Honors,” she said, paying her respects.

The entire amphitheater gasped.

The ability to inspire others to follow was not Prince Gin’s alone. It was in the Ora blood, and Empress Aki hadn’t needed magic to charm the taigas. She had simply opened her heart and brought them into it, made them feel as one with her and the kingdom.

At that moment, Daemon understood that while he may not be special, he was still a part of the Society, an important part of Kichona with his own role to play.

The Council pressed their fists over their chests.

Every single apprentice and warrior rose from their seats and followed.

“Cloak of night. Heart of light,” they shouted in unison.

It was a pledge of love and of loyalty.

And it was a battle cry.





Chapter Fifty-Six


Sora’s eyes were puffy from crying, and her nose was red from where the thread of the green triplicate whorls on her sleeve had rubbed her skin raw. Only fifteen minutes away, the ryuu camp would have settled in for the night, Hana among them. Sora already felt her absence keenly.

In the distance, though, Rose Palace continued to shine like a beacon beneath the moon. Sora may have wrecked her chances with her sister, but she still had a shot at saving Kichona. She knew the ryuu’s strengths and weaknesses. She had a plan.

The Society needed her.

Sora smothered the last of her sniffles and rose to her feet, standing tall in the clearing. There was work to do, and not much time for it. First, she had to rescue Fairy, and then they had to make their way back to the Citadel. There, Sora would have to convince the Council and Empress Aki to let her destroy Rose Palace as a weapon against the ryuu.

Easy.

Sora laughed humorlessly to herself.

And yet, the challenge energized her. This was what it meant to aspire for more, to become the best person she could be. She would give herself completely to Kichona, or she would die trying.

Sora made herself invisible and snuck back to the ryuu camp. Amazingly, their size had doubled in the time that Sora had been gone. It was no longer just ryuu now, but also an adjacent camp of pilgrims, the Hearts that Prince Gin had chosen in Paro Village, Sand Mine, Kaede City, Tiger’s Belly, and the Striped Coves. Two hundred boys and girls, men and women, from one to a hundred years old. Sora stopped short and looked at them.

A boy just a couple years younger than her, arms and legs still lanky because he hadn’t had the chance to grow into them. A woman with wrinkles as thick and heavy as a shar-pei dog’s. A little boy cradled in her arms, on the cusp of toddlerhood, squirming as he sucked on his thumb. And 197 more, all people who’d had their own minds not that long ago, but who now milled around with the distant, contented glimmer in their eyes that Sora was all too familiar with.

She started in their direction.

“Great-grandmother,” Sora said, as she approached the old woman holding the baby. “You shouldn’t be here. Bad things are about to happen. You have to flee.”

But the woman smiled, the corners of her mouth lifting the heavy curtains of the wrinkles around it. “My dear child, this is exactly where I need to be. I am honored to be chosen by the Dragon Prince. You are a taiga. You should understand the joy of giving yourself in service to your kingdom.”

Sora shook her head. “No. He’s controlling you. This . . . This isn’t what you want.”

The woman continued beaming as she cuddled the wriggling child. “Yes, Your Honor, it is. I was nothing but a seamstress before, but now I get to be something more.”

“But . . .”

The little boy began to cry. The old woman cooed at him, then drifted away, forgetting her conversation.

Sora almost went after her.

And then she saw a girl with an abalone comb in her hair. Sora stopped moving.