The Last Dragon of the East

Chapter 25

25

I awake sometime after sunset. The inside of the tent is comfortably warm thanks to the two iron censers placed on either side of me, lumps of charcoal burning slowly within. Blinking away the sleep from my eyes, I allow myself the time to take in my surroundings.

Resting beside me on a low writing table is a set of fresh clothes and a hefty winter overcoat. I have been mostly stripped of my garments, or what little remains of them, having been torn to shreds by the crow attack. I move slowly, stretching my arms and flexing my toes. My muscles are sore, but I’m otherwise rejuvenated. Jyn is nowhere to be found, though I suspect the trace of dried blood I taste at the corner of my lip has something to do with my quick recovery. She must have snuck into my tent while I slept to tend to me.

I eventually rise and get dressed. When I step outside, I’m greeted by the distant horizon awash with crimson and gold. The village is alive with activity, the sound of distant chatter and the crackle of a large fire reaching my ears. The scents of roasting meats and lavish spices waft in on the wind’s breath, and my stomach grumbles loudly for a taste of whatever meal is being shared.

Everyone’s gathered around a great bonfire, the roaring flames casting dancing shadows against the canvas of nearby tents. Several large fallen logs have been set around the fire, offering plenty of space for people to gather, sit, and eat. Large bowls of sweet fruits, garlic-roasted vegetables, and steaming heaps of rice are passed around, along with gourds full of delicious rice wine and pots of fragrant tea. There’s a hearty sense of community here. They are few in number, but a mighty and most generous people.

“Ah, our other guest of honor!” the village elder exclaims with a deep laugh, his arms open wide in greeting. He claps me on the shoulder, gesturing to the joyous gathering on display.

“Where’s Jyn?” I ask, the first and only thought on my mind.

“She has a spot beside me. Come, dear friend. You must be famished.”

That, I can’t deny.

I find Jyn surrounded by a group of young girls, all of them giggling as they weave flowers into her long hair. They’ve brought along with them small grass-woven baskets full of delicate winter flowers, likely picked from the area surrounding the camp, boasting vibrant red, elegant white, and cheerful yellow petals. I can sense Jyn’s discomfort, and yet she makes no move to shoo them away. She gives me an almost pleading look as I approach.

“Make them stop,” she whispers.

I pluck a small white flower from one of the girls’ baskets as I sit down and tuck it behind her ear. “Now, why would I do that?”

She gives me a withering look, and yet there is no denying the warm glint hiding just behind her eyes or the light dusting of pink that spreads across her cheeks. If only I could bask in her loveliness forever, that might give my soul some semblance of satisfaction.

And yet the more I spend time admiring her, the more I understand that her beauty is a haunted one. Every time I look upon her face, I see a double-edged sword of love and loss. I peer at her through a thousand different eyes, unable to explain how I know there’s a faded freckle at the corner of her chin and a small, barely noticeable scar above her left temple. Minute details, hidden from most—but not from me.

Because I know her, this soul keeping me at arm’s length. I can see the shape of her, the outline of our intertwined fates, just out of reach. I just wish Jyn would help me fill in the blanks.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Feng. She’s seated on the other side of the bonfire, glowering at me as she stuffs her mouth with spiced meat. Feng’s far too sharp, too inquisitive.

I try to focus on the food, eating little bits at a time. Pieces of fruit, a handful of berries, a bowl of hearty stew. It’s incredibly delicious—but my stomach churns all the same. While I’m grateful for this much-needed meal, it’s difficult to enjoy it with Feng studying us so carefully. She’s a hawk determining the best time to strike at two skittish rabbits.

Too anxious to sit still, I stand and offer Jyn my hand. Several couples have already gotten up to dance to the beat of the drums, linking arms so that they circle the bonfire as one big group.

“Shall we?” I ask Jyn with an amused grin.

She frowns. “I don’t dance.”

“Because you don’t know the steps, or because you don’t like it?”

“Yes.”

I laugh and drag her toward the line, easily slipping into place with the other dancers. Jyn tries to weasel her way out, but then the circle starts to rotate around the fire as the drums pick up speed. There’s laughter, hooting and hollering. It’s hard not to stumble over my own feet, but that’s the point of the dance—to keep up with the rhythm or fall into a heap.

Jyn looks like she would prefer to be anywhere but here, scowling as she watches her steps. Who knew a dragon could be so shy? As the dance grows faster and faster, every pass around the bonfire more exhilarating than the last, something amazing happens.

She smiles .

It’s unlike anything I have ever seen before: a real, wide, joyous, carefree smile that makes her eyes glimmer like the stars. The first, I hope, of a countless many. Her whole face lights up, illuminated not only by the light of the crackling fire, but by a bliss that hums over our bond like morning sunlight. The lightest of laughs rises from her chest as we both lose our balance, thrown from the dance circle onto the soft grass below.

I catch her, Jyn’s body pressed against mine. We’re both breathless, staring at each other in an amused haze of warmth. Her hair is a sweeping mess, her cheeks are flushed, a few flowers are on the cusp of falling from her inky locks. I don’t miss the way her eyes flit down to my lips, lingering for a moment too long—not that I mind.

“See?” I say, just as fascinated by the shape of her mouth and intoxicated by her scent of jasmine. “Not so bad, right?”

“No,” she admits quietly, looking over at the whirling, dancing crowd, backlit by the bonfire. “I suppose not.”

I can’t bring myself to look away. I don’t want to. I’d gladly admire Jyn until the end of time. An intense craving floods my veins, a little voice in the back of my head begging me to kiss her again. When I place my hand on the curve of her hip, she doesn’t move away. Instead, she melts into my touch, her lips slightly parted.

“Sai…,” she whispers.

My hand flies up to comb through her hair, her silky locks slipping through my fingers. In that single moment, everything is right with the world. I don’t want it to end, but—

“Well done, well done!” the village elder says with a boisterous laugh, clapping for the two remaining dancers, Chyou and Ming. The happy couple embraces under the starlight, giddy as can be.

“And now, for the main event!” he continues, gesturing toward me and Jyn as we retake our seats. “To honor our distinguished guests and the Gods above who bless us with this abundance, please enjoy the show.”

At first, I don’t understand his meaning. In an evening full of food and dance, what other festivities could we possibly look forward to?

The sudden whistle and then crack of a firework overhead is answer enough. Colorful sparks fizzle into the air in a lively display of bright reds, greens, and yellows. Fireworks have been a rarity ever since the emperor’s declaration of war, their ingredients better used for cannons than for spectacle.

I was quite fond of them as a boy, running excitedly through the markets as year-end celebrations took place. I stare up at the skies now, entranced by their luminance, rivaling even the moon and stars.

Beside me, Jyn jolts at the sound of the next firework. She does so each time another is lit, flinching with the noise. Skittish. On the verge of running away.

“What’s the matter, my lady?” I ask her, concerned.

She shakes her head, casting her eyes down. “It’s nothing,” she murmurs, though she flinches again.

“We can leave, if you’d like.”

“No, it would be rude.”

“The noise… It bothers you?”

Jyn chews on the inside of her cheek, squirming uncomfortably when yet another firework—louder and bigger than the previous ones—booms in the air above. “Cannons,” she mumbles, barely audible. “They remind me of the cannons he fired….”

“Cannons?” I echo, frowning.

Her eyes glaze over, becoming distant. Her mind is trapped in a memory I’m not privy to. The only thing I can think to do is reach around to press my palms over her ears. I gently tilt her head up so that she can look at the colorful sparks without hearing them. The tension in her shoulders melts away, her eyes widening in awe and her mouth dropping open.

While she watches the lights, I, in turn, watch her.

Shadows dance across her face, the fleeting sparks reflected in her eyes. Her rare smile returns, this time sweeter than before. I can’t explain the instinctive protectiveness stirring within me.

Cupping her face in my hands, I gently lean in. All the stress and tension I’ve been holding melt away when my lips find hers, a lock and its key. No words need be exchanged to understand that she is mine, and I am hers.

I will protect Jyn with every fragment of my soul, no matter what it costs me.

But I should know by now that my fortune is anything but plentiful.

Jyn breaks away and stands. “I… should get some sleep,” she mumbles. Before I have a chance to protest, she leaves for her tent without another word.