Empires of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 2) Read Free Page A

but felt soothing to Jin, more
so than his silken bed at home. Shenlai coiled up, enveloping Jin
with warmth. The dragon's snowy beard draped over Jin like a blanket.
His eyes, large orbs like crystal balls, gleamed as they watched him.
    "Many people in the palace
will worry about you and miss you," Shenlai said, "but you
can fall asleep here, and when you are sleeping, I will carry you
home."
    Jin wiggled until he was
comfortable and warm, but he did not feel safe. He was afraid of more
assassins. He was afraid of the sunlit army in the west. And mostly
he was afraid of his dearest friend dying.
    "I hope you never die,"
he whispered. "And if you do, you don't have to tell me your
secret. You don't have to tell anyone. I'll miss you when you're
gone, Shenlai, but I promise to be strong and wise like you taught
me. I love you."
    His eyes closed and he slept,
dreaming that he could fly on his own, a new dragon of the night, and
reach the sun and the moon.

 
 
CHAPTER TWO:
THE SUN AND MOON

    "He's my half-brother."
    Koyee stared into the mirror,
the horror dancing in her eyes like yezyani upon a pleasure den's
stage.
    "Eelani . . . Ferius is my
half-brother."
    Several moons ago, Torin had
taken her hand, stroked her hair, and revealed the secret to her,
translating the words Ferius had spoken in Bluefeather Corner as she
had lain wounded at his feet. She had laughed then, had shoved Torin
back, had refused to believe . . . and every turn since, she had
stood here in her chamber, staring at her reflection, those ghosts
dancing.
    "The demon of sunlight.
Ferius the Cruel. The monk who nearly slew us in Bluefeather Corner.
Eelani . . . he was born of my mother."
    Her shoulder spirit was silent,
and Koyee could barely feel the usual warmth on her shoulder, the
weight—light as a feather—of her invisible friend. Since the
battle, Eelani had been so quiet, so still, barely more than the hint
of a whisper. Sometimes Koyee wondered if the spirit was crushed
under the pain of this war.
    And
what of myself? Koyee stared at her reflection, seeking tears, pain, even a wince or
grimace. Yet her face remained blank. A triangular face, her forehead
too wide, her chin too small. Three scars—one across her brow, one
along her cheek, and one tugging her lip into a half-smile. Long,
smooth hair the color of snow. Her mother had died years ago, and
many said that Koyee shared her features.
    He
has them too, she realized. Ferius too had the wide brow, the small chin. Her eyes
were large and lavender, and Ferius had beady eyes—a relic of his
Timandrian father—but Koyee had seen her mother in his face.
    "His shame drives him,"
Torin had told her. "He's so ashamed of his mixed blood, of what
he calls impurity, that now he seeks to slay all Elorians—a
vengeance against your mother and what he believes was her sin."
    Koyee turned away from the
mirror. She stared at her chamber, the humble abode of a yezyana. Fur
blankets topped a simple bed. A few silk dresses hung on pegs,
dragons and stars embroidered upon them. Her flute and several books
lay upon her bedside table. Her father's katana, the legendary blade
Sheytusung, was hidden inside a rolled-up blanket under her bed. It
was a simple place far from home. Perhaps this was her home now.
    She looked out the window and
saw them outside—the Timandrians troops, conquerors of her city.
Somewhere out there, among them, he waited for her. Somewhere he was
thinking of her, seeking her, dreaming of crushing her with his mace,
of hushing all whispers of his shame.
    "Ferius," she
whispered. "We would've welcomed you into our family, even after
Mother died. We would've given you a home with us—with me, my
father, and Okado." She lowered her head and finally her eyes
watered. "But you invaded our land. You slew our people. You
would slay me, and you would slay all the children of the night if
you could." She grimaced, reached for her sword, and drew the
blade. "But I will not let you. I swear