Chapter 29 Sonam
She smells of the jungle—of rich earth and petrichor…
Though it’s hardly an important detail.
Wen sacrifices another one of his arrows, handing it to Sooah so that she can slowly carve away at the bamboo shaft to make a feather stick—the thin peeled wood perfect for fire kindling. There is little else here in this statue garden for us to use.
“Only seven arrows left,” he mutters to himself as our campfire grows. Wen smirks at Yue, who has yet to sit down. She seems to have taken a particular interest in the dragon statue. “Can’t you find us some sticks? Dogs love to fetch, don’t they?”
“Don’t antagonize her.” My words come out in such a rush that I surprise myself.
Wen has always enjoyed a good jest, but for some reason I can’t allow this one to slide.
Perhaps it’s because I feel indebted. If not for her, we might have frozen to death or befallen some other horror at the hands of the star goddess.
“It’s fine,” Yue says breezily, flashing a grin at us over her shoulder. “I could, and they do. But I’m not fool enough to do you a kindness for free.”
Sooah huffs a laugh and gestures at Yue to come closer. Once Yue takes a seat across the fire, Sooah demonstrates a short series of hand signs. I can’t help but chuckle. Wen snorts and rolls his eyes. When Yue shoots me with a quizzical glance, I say, “She’s teaching you how to sign.”
“And what did she say?”
“ ‘If he ever pisses you off, tell him to go fuck a hungry tiger.’ ”
Her lips break into a gleeful smile as she copies Sooah.
Once to learn the words, and a second to get a sense of flow.
She has the phrase memorized and perfected by the third.
Yue giggles when Sooah teaches her another string of insults, the sound so light and giddy that, for a moment, I find myself speechless.
She has no right to look like that. No right to sound so sweet.
I remind myself that it’s the magic of her mask and nothing more.
Not to mention I’m exhausted and growing more irritable with every passing minute here in Hell.
The only reason my palms are clammy and my breaths come thin is because I’m eager to leave this place as soon as possible.
The sound of Yue’s laugh startles me from my thoughts. It’s a cackle from deep in her belly. Orange flickers against the smooth planes of her face, the fire’s light glimmering against the severe cut of her obsidian eyes. What terrible blasphemy makes it possible for a demon to appear so angelic?
“What else can you teach me?” she asks excitedly. “How do I call him an idiot?”
Wen groans. “The first thing you want to learn is how to cuss me out?”
“Of course. That’s where the fun is.”
“Good luck,” he replies dryly. “Took me years to learn—”
Idiot, Yue signs after Sooah demonstrates. “It’s not that hard.”
“Shut up,” Wen grumbles. “Course it’s easier for you. We had the hard job of coming up with it.”
Yue tilts her head to the side. “You made it up?”
“The cap’n did. Hand speak ain’t all that common, and we needed a way to talk to each other, so he helped come up with a lot of it.”
All eyes find me now, but it’s the heat of her stare that I can’t stand. Her usual malice and disgust are nowhere to be found. Instead, I see admiration.
It makes me squirm. Yue has no right to look at me this way. Not after everything I’ve done.
“Hunter, artist, and linguist,” she muses. “So full of surprises.”
I’m the one to avert my gaze, glancing down at my own palm. The line that I cut in order to feed the fox has started to scab, the surrounding skin red and irritated. It takes a great deal to make me uneasy, but the rapid thudding of my heart against my rib cage is enough to see me rise.
“Where are you going?” Yue asks as I move away.
“To see if I can find anything to make arrows out of. Short of that, more fuel for the fire.”
“I’ll come with you,” Wen offers, but I shake my head.
“Stay and rest. I won’t be far.”
I keep to my word and only venture as far as the high wall cordoning off the garden.
The gardens of previous courts were lush and beautiful, full of flowers enchanted with the brightest of hues.
This one can only boast a few shrubs and a neat stone pathway, as well as a patch of silky white sand resting in the corner hosting a meditative pattern of lines.
All it would take is a sweep of my hand to disturb the canvas and blot the sand with my presence.
Would it even matter if I did? After we’ve long ventured into the next court, will a wandering soul come across the marks I’ve left behind?
“If I knew a single compliment would send you running, I could have spared myself all this trouble when we first met.”
I turn abruptly, startled to find Yue standing not an arm’s length away. I am both impressed and troubled by her featherlight footing. “I wasn’t running.”
“No?” Yue grins coyly. “Panicking, then.”
“I’m not—”
“Don’t lie.” She taps her nose. “Sour scent, remember?”
A deep sigh escapes me, my shoulders slumping with the release. “You’re welcome to keep your distance, Fox. I’m sure Sooah and Wen would be happy to continue with your lessons.”
Yue presses her lips into a thin line. “Have I offended you?”
Yes, I nearly say. Everything about you offends me. Yet the words never leave the tip of my tongue. I cannot bring myself to say them because I cannot decipher this strange sensation brewing beneath the surface of my skin.
Perhaps it is the way she moves like the wind, effortless and haunting.
I hate it, yet I find myself yearning to feel her breeze ghost across my skin, craving the reminder that I’m still alive.
I see the way she watches me; those large, alert eyes betraying her thirsty curiosity.
Does she still view me as prey, I wonder? Or will I only ever be a threat to her?
I don’t know that I want to be.
“My mind is restless, is all,” I finally answer.
“The only cure for a restless mind is to keep it busy.” Yue tilts her chin toward my rope dart, which I’ve tied securely around my middle. “Since I’m already in the mood for lessons.”
I arch a brow. “It wouldn’t be wise.”
“Because you’re an incapable teacher?”
“Because this is not a novice’s weapon.”
“If a fool like you can learn to master it, how hard can it be?”
“You’re the fool if you think you can rile me.”
“Am I?” she murmurs. She takes a step forward, her head tilted back to look up at me. My blood hums with exhilaration. There’s a fire in her gaze, a challenge. “Teach me, Sonam. I want to learn.”
A spark crackles its way down my spine. She has never said my name before. Who does she think she is, taking a bland name like mine and making it sound like music?
“Fine,” I bite out, pulling on the rope to loosen it from around my waist. “Don’t blame me if you end up hurting yourself.”
Yue gives me that blasted smile—too wide, too triumphant. “My failings are that of my teacher’s.”
If her aim was to get under my skin, it’s working.
I sigh. “Turn around and give me your hand.”
She does so, but at an infuriatingly slow pace. Once she extends her palm, I step forward and give her the tail of the rope to hold, careful to let the dagger on the opposite end down slowly.
“The key isn’t speed or strength, but balance and timing,” I say, taking my place behind her. With a guiding hand braced against her wrist, I help her swing the dagger as if it were a pendulum. “You must acquaint yourself with its weight, its momentum. Release only when the dagger is out and away.”
“Not unlike a whip,” she says as the dagger makes a full rotation in her hand.
“I suppose. Though this is far more flexible. Mistime the release, and you may well stab yourself.” Gently, I grasp Yue by the hips and turn her slightly. “Aim for that rock over there.”
She releases the rope to disappointing results. The dagger flails through the air, landing with a clatter at least a foot from the intended target. Yue frowns. “I want to try again.”
She tries again and again with a determination that is… admirable, but to no avail.
“You’re not so terrible,” I tell her when she huffs in frustration. “You haven’t lost a finger or the tip of your nose yet, so that’s worth some praise.”
Yue turns and pins me with a skeptical glare. “How long did it take you?”
“My whole life.”
“And who was your teacher? I might be better served learning with them.”
A grin tugs at the corners of my lips. “Trial and error were my teachers, Yue. Proficiency isn’t a garden that blooms overnight.”
She snorts. “How poetic.”
“Here,” I offer with a low chuckle.
Continuing to stand behind her, I take up her wrists, using the length of my arms as a frame for her to balance against. I correct her hold around the rope, adjusting her fingers so that the dagger’s end can slip free of her grip.
I am close enough to smell her hair, my lips grazing the curve of her ear.
I move her hand as though it were my own, swinging the rope with a controlled rhythm.
When we let go, the dagger flies true, striking the rock with such force that the tip leaves a noticeable mark against its jagged surface. The clang that follows echoes into the expanse of the garden, a gong announcing our success.
“I did it!” Yue exclaims, laughing softly as she turns toward me. “With help, of course.”
A low chuckle rumbles in my chest as I yank the dart rope back. I’m alarmed to realize I am studying her enchanting visage, now that I can do so unhindered in close proximity. Why am I intrigued by the curl of her long lashes? Why do I find the shape of her lips so beguiling?
She is a monster of monsters. A beast who feeds on those far more wretched.
At any moment, she could unhinge her jaw and rip my throat out if she felt so inclined.
I have foolishly allowed myself to be alone with her.
If Yue decided to attack, Wen and Sooah would be helpless to stop her. I should put distance between us.
Yet all I can focus on is the whisper of her breath hitting my cheeks. The way I could tilt my head down, easily capture her mouth with my own and—
“CAP’N!”
The panic in Wen’s voice lances through my chest. The hairs on my arms stand on end.
There’s something bitter in the air, the undeniable stench of rot.
The jade statues creak and groan, craning their necks as they step down from their column pedestals.
I realize then that these aren’t statues at all.
One by one, they step down and expose themselves for what they truly are: demons hiding in plain sight.
“Bring the woman,” the dragon statue growls.
“And the rest?” asks the rat.
“Eat them. The Maskmaker doesn’t care so long as we bring her alive.”
I reach for my sword. “Keep your hands off of—”
It’s too late. They move with startling swiftness, attacking us in full force. Caught by surprise, we have no choice but to fight. I make it to Wen and Sooah, but the mistake has already been made. I thought Yue was right behind me. I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off her.
I turn, all too late, to see one of the beasts strike her over the back of the head.