The Last Dragon of the East

Chapter 44

44

T he first thing I do when I wake each morning is check my hand.

Still a closed black loop.

I do my best not to sit in my disappointment. It has been almost a year and three moons, but I haven’t given up hope. Jyn promised she would come back, so it’s only a matter of when. She waited seven thousand years for me; surely I can do the same for her.

Tending to the teahouse is as good a distraction as any. There’s a lot of work to do now that the war has ended and the traders from the South have been permitted entry once more. Business booms with the start of the new year, the springtime months bringing with them warmer weather and the promise of new beginnings.

“Ridiculous!” one of the teahouse patrons at the far end of the room says to the man sitting across from him. “Surely these are the ramblings of a madman.”

“It’s true, I swear it! There were soldiers there who escaped the carnage. They say that the emperor was holding captive the red and green dragons of old!”

“That’s preposterous.” The patron turns to me with a friendly chortle. “What do you think, Sai? Surely it’s impossible.”

“Dragons?” I ask, setting a fresh pot of tea on the low table. “Unbelievable, if you ask me. There are no such things as dragons.”

“Then how do you explain the emperor’s sudden disappearance?” the second customer asks with a huff. “His Imperial Majesty went missing without a trace. And there were hundreds of witnesses to the event!”

“You know what I think it is?” the first customer says, lowering his voice. “Probably just a tale by one of his advisors to help them claim the throne. You know those shamans are always scheming.”

“You shouldn’t say such things,” the second patron warns. “The newly crowned emperor could have your head for such slander. Right, Sai?”

“I’m just a teahouse owner,” I say easily, gathering up a tray of empty cups. “I couldn’t care less about the goings-on behind palace walls.”

“Ah, to be young and carefree! How I envy you.”

“Our new emperor is already doing a lot of good,” the other man at the table says. “They say he was a most respected advisor. He put an end to this stupid war, and I hear he’s lowering taxes come summertime.”

“You don’t say? That’s a welcome change, indeed,” his friend replies.

“Another refill, gentlemen?” I ask. “My mother has just made a fresh batch of steamed buns.”

“That sounds wonderful. Bring us a plate of pork dumplings, too.”

“As you wish, good sir,” I say, heading toward the kitchen.

A-Ma keeps herself busy with all manner of fried doughnut sticks, flaky scallion pancakes, and soup dumplings made lovingly by hand. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, her sleeves are rolled up and tied out of the way with long white ribbons, and the heat of the fire brings color to her cheeks.

“Wonderfully busy today,” she comments. “How are things looking up front?”

“All of our tables are full,” I inform her with pride. “We’ll likely be open well after sundown.”

“Perhaps we should consider hiring some help. We could use an extra pair of hands.”

“That would be wise. I worry the customers will race me off my feet at this rate.”

“Speak to Auntie Ying tomorrow on your way to the market. I heard that her son-in-law’s cousin is looking for work.”

“Very well, I’ll—”

I freeze midsentence, an odd sensation suddenly washing over me. It’s a spark, light and pure and good. The birth of something new. I nearly drop the kettle of hot water I’m holding, so stunned that my mind momentarily goes blank. This feeling is new to me, and yet…

It’s strangely familiar, too.

“Sai?” A-Ma calls to me. “What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”

An invisible force tugs at my hand. I look down, curious and excited. Wrapped around my little finger is a brand-new thread—a brilliant red.

Hope leaves me lightheaded.

“Nothing’s wrong,” I say, a smile forming on my lips. “Nothing at all.”