The Last Dragon of the East

Chapter 43

43

I t’s strange coming home again after a whole moon away. Everything’s the same, and yet it’s all so different. The run-down shanties, the dirt roads, the bustling marketplace. People go about their business, some haggling with vendors while others gather in groups to share idle gossip and news from the war front. Maybe I am the one who’s changed.

A-Ba’s teahouse is exactly how I left it, though it feels like decades ago. I was a different man then, so full of hope and quips and energy. Now I can barely find the will to breathe. When I slide the front door open and step inside, I find a few customers enjoying pots of tea. Our cheapest blend, judging by the mild scent. It’s a relief to see the place is still afloat, although I’m concerned at my mother’s absence.

She’s nowhere in sight.

“Sai?”

A woman approaches from out of the corner of my eye. She’s familiar to me, sharing A-Ba’s long black hair, pinched nose, and rounded cheeks. Auntie Ying wipes her hands on a cloth, looking me over with clear surprise.

“My goodness, it really is you!” she says with wide eyes. “Where have you been? We’ve been so terribly worried about you. Nine suns, you look as though you’ve been dragged beneath a horse!”

“Where’s A-Ma?”

“In the kitchen, dear. She’ll be so happy to see you.”

I make my way through the teahouse and round the corner in a hurry. I find A-Ma seated on a wooden stool next to the burners, tending to their flames as clay pots full of water come to a boil. She has thinned out again, but she’s nowhere near as sickly as she was before I left. It appears that the green dragon’s scale has managed to tide her over in the time I have been away.

“Sai!” A-Ma gasps when she sees me, and springs up from her seat. She cups my face in her hands and kisses my cheeks. “Oh, my boy, my sweet boy, you’ve come back!”

I’ve missed her warmth and the smell of tea leaves lingering on her robes. After the hellish weeks I’ve endured, seeing her again feels like a dream. It’s no small relief to discover that Róng’s threats to harm her turned out to be empty.

“I’m so glad to see you,” I say in a rush. My words come as a raspy croak, exhaustion weighing them down. It’s good to finally be home.

My mother takes a step back to inspect me, her smile slipping as she does. “Good Heavens. What happened?”

I reach into one of my pockets and pull out a single red scale. It shimmers in the light, dazzling wildfire in my palm. I move about the kitchen and retrieve the stone mortar and pestle from one of the lower cupboards. I’m quick to grind my scale into dust, then move to mix it into a nearby pot of tea. Finally, I pour a cup and hold it out to A-Ma.

“Please, drink this,” I instruct her.

She arches a brow. “This is the first thing you have to say to your mother? I was worried sick after those soldiers showed up and took you away. And what was it that you just put in my drink?”

“Please, A-Ma. I’ll explain everything while you drink. Trust me.”

My mother eyes me suspiciously, but takes the cup all the same. She takes a seat on a nearby kitchen stool and takes a few sips. The effects of my scale are far more potent than that of the green dragon’s. Within moments, I see her cheeks fill with color and her hair become glossy. A-Ma glows with a youthful vibrance, her health further restored with every sip of tea.

“There,” she says, dabbing her lips with a nearby napkin once she’s downed the entire cup. “Now, tell me where you have been all this time. Your complexion has gotten darker—have you traveled far? Could you not have written your poor A-Ma just one letter assuring me you were well?”

She rattles off question after question, boisterous and full of life. I’m relieved that she’s not so much angry as she is anxious for answers, though I’m not ready to give them. It’s a slice of normalcy I believed long gone for me. Gratitude sits high in my chest, mixing with the grief I have been carrying, both newly and for centuries.

My bottom lip trembles.

And then I fall apart.

I drop to my knees, wrap my arms around A-Ma and hug her tight, sobbing against her shoulder. Startled, she embraces me, patting me gently on the back.

“My son, what has happened to you?”

“It’s a long story,” I say wearily. The tears I couldn’t shed during Jyn’s burial suddenly pour forth, streaking my cheeks and burning my skin. “I met my Fated One. She was…”

My chest caves in. I can’t get out another word.

My mother stands and has me take a seat on the kitchen stool, clasping my hands tight. “Tell me, Sai. I’ll listen.”

I take a deep, labored breath and start from the beginning—the very beginning.

“According to legend, they were a family of three.”