Sacrifice (19 page)

Skybright didn’t know how she’d feel if she ever returned to Chang He. She had been abandoned in the forest as an orphan, left to die. But although she had no true family, the Yuans had taken her in and cared for her, treated her better than any other servant. Zhen Ni had loved her like a sister. Skybright thought she’d feel joy or relief, but as she walked through the familiar town of her childhood, her throat constricted. There was only the sense of loss. Of never belonging again or leading a normal life. As much as she missed Zhen Ni, her mischievous smile and warm laugh, the way she’d clasp Skybright’s hands in excitement as she planned their next big adventure, Skybright knew that there was no returning to it. She had been through too much since she discovered her demonic side—seen too much—to ever go back to simply being a handmaid. She was more than that. Stone had been right. The sudden realization made her lightheaded for a moment, and she swayed on her feet, until Stone reached for her arm to steady her. Embarrassed, she shook him off, walking faster.

People stared at her as they hustled past. For once, it wasn’t Stone, looking majestic, drawing all the attention. Her fingertips flew to her cheek, then traced the raised scar that ran its way from her temple to the corner of her mouth. Skybright stiffened and lifted her chin as young boys and handmaids scurried out of her way on the dusty main street. As if the gods were anticipating where her thoughts ran, she heard the distant gong of the monastery. Where was Kai Sen now? Had he forgotten about her after all these months? And no matter how much it hurt, part of her hoped that he had—that he’d moved on. It was for the best.

Skybright led Stone to a restaurant tucked near the edge of their small town. It was more a shack, popular among the workers because the food was tasty and also priced low. One wouldn’t find any ladies or masters from fine houses dining in this questionable establishment.

It was well after the midday meal, and the place was empty. The owner, an older man with a long beard, gawked at her, then waved a hand vaguely indicating they could sit where they pleased. Another advantage to this place—people didn’t ask questions.

They chose the table in the very back of the small room and sat down beside each other. The table was next to a wooden door that opened onto a grove of cypresses, and her heart eased to see their gnarled branches, to taste their fresh scent against her tongue.

“A jug of wine, please. And whatever food is hot, double portions,” Stone said to the lanky boy who came to take their order. He bobbed his head and ran off to the kitchen. “You wasted no time asserting your power, Skybright, to come home again.” Stone drummed his fingers against the coarse, unpainted wood of their square table.

She stared at her own hands, folded in her lap. It was all that she had wished for. But why was it that when you were given that wish, so often it wasn’t as you’d imagined. She didn’t reply.

“It was cruel, I know, to force you away from everything you knew. But it was the only way I knew to help you realize who you truly are. To show you that you’re not merely a mortal girl.”

“And have you been successful?” she asked in an impassive voice.

“If I had had more time, I know I would have been.”

“To make me like my mother.”

His fingers stopped, and he pressed his palm against the table. “No. I was shortsighted there. When I said you were unique, Skybright, I never realized how much so.”

The boy returned and poured them each a cup of wine, then set down a large bowl of beef stew with carrots, two tea stewed eggs, stir-fried cabbage, and eggplant with ground pork. He loped away, then returned with a large bowl of steaming rice. Skybright’s stomach growled, and she helped herself to everything, eating slowly and savoring all the flavors of the dishes.

Stone drank two cups of wine before he started to eat. His cheeks had flushed pink from the alcohol, and Skybright marveled again at how boyish he looked. They ate without speaking, and it was when the server delivered two bowls of sweet peanut soup with rice balls when Stone finally broke the silence. “Your mistress will be pleased to see you.”

Skybright nodded, not meeting his eyes. Stone didn’t need to know that she couldn’t return to her former life, didn’t need to know that he had been right all along—that she didn’t belong. He leaned back in his stool, head against the wall, and surveyed the ramshackle restaurant. “I’ve never visited this type of establishment as the goddess’ intermediary, but somehow, the feeling of it is familiar. I think it is similar to places I had been when I was mortal.”

In the short time since Stone had his status stripped, she’d noticed his speech patterns had become erratic, falling from his previous formal way of speaking to a more lax language and accent that hinted at his former life. The effect was disconcerting. She wondered if Stone himself noticed.

“Skybright.” He fidgeted, long fingers flexing, one knee bouncing with nervous energy. “I would ask another favor of you. I know you owe me none—far from it, but this is personal.”

Her eyes widened for a moment before she smoothed her features. What could she possibly do for him now? Is this how quickly the situation had turned on its head? “What would you ask of me?”

“Could you look at me?” He drew a deep breath and stilled, sitting straight on his stool. “I mean
truly
look at me, with the gift that you’ve been given?”

She suddenly understood and shook her head. “It’s intrusive. And strange.” Skybright didn’t want to be reminded of seeing those souls weighed down with sins, the men’s faces blotted out by angry swarms. She didn’t want to remember what happened in the alleyway—that she had almost killed a man. “What if I see something that you don’t want to know? Something awful?”

“It’s a risk I am willing to take. Please, Skybright. You see the truth. I want to remember who I am—who I was before my mortal life was taken from me by the gods. I think you could help me.”

“Why should I? After what you’ve done?”

He clasped his hands together in a tight fist. His dark brown eyes flickered to her face, pleading, before his chin dropped and he stared at the floor.

“All right. Look at me then.” She would never admit it to him, but she was curious as well. Who was Stone as a young man barely out of his youth?

His face brightened with hope, and he met her eyes, held her gaze. Steady and intense, as he had been before. Skybright steeled herself mentally, preparing for what she might see. She tried to ignore his handsome features—the high cheekbones and hard lines of his jaw, still strong even after his face had softened in mortality.

His full mouth.

She couldn’t believe of all the tricks the goddess let Stone keep, having this seductive pull was one of them. Skybright gritted her teeth and narrowed her eyes. Stone’s dark eyebrows drew together a fraction, his old expression of amused aloofness replaced by very human uncertainty.

Then his features began to glow.

Brighter and brighter.

Skybright gasped.

She wanted to shield her eyes but instead held his gaze.

A brilliant sunset, in hues of stunning golds and deep oranges. The sun hung over the terraced rice fields so that the water within reflected the colors back. It was one of those views that made his chest expand, seemed to fill him with the wonder of life, lifting the ache from his shoulders and lower back, taking the pain of the brutal work day from his body.

Until he woke the next morning and felt all the strains on his muscles once more.

He was in a cramped shack, lying on a bedroll placed on the dirt floor. A soft hand was petting his cheek, and he opened his eyes with reluctance. Round black eyes peered down at him, gleaming. “Da Ge,” she whispered. “It’s your day off. Let’s play!”

Big brother, she had called him and grinned so widely with adoration that her eyes disappeared into those round cheeks. She was four years old, his youngest sister among the five siblings. And she was not shy about letting the family and everyone else know that he was her favorite. He reached over and tugged at one of her braided pigtails; she squealed in delight, butting her head into his bare chest. He laughed and held her and said, “Mei Er, you were supposed to let me sleep in.”

“I did,” she exclaimed. “The rooster has already crowed. Then I counted to a hundred, just like you taught me!”

He knew how Mei Er “counted” to one hundred. So it was barely daybreak then. But how could he be peeved with her? She was his favorite as well.

“Should we go fishing today?” he asked, pulling a tunic on. “Or catch frogs and race them?” Despite their thirteen-year age difference, they never failed to have fun adventures together.

His family lay on their own bedrolls, dark lumps in the spare room. Lao San grumbled in his sleep, and Xiao Di kicked his legs as he was prone to doing while dreaming. Even his mother hadn’t risen yet.

The incense from their small ancestor altar had burned out, but its subtle sandalwood fragrance still permeated the air.

He grabbed her little hand and pressed a finger to his lips. “You ready?” he whispered.

She nodded so enthusiastically he felt dizzy watching her. “Don’t forget the bucket!”

Skybright’s eyes fluttered, and the vision dissipated in her mind. It was as if she had been there herself—she could sense the chill in the morning air, smell the incense, and feel Mei Er’s small fingers squeeze Stone’s own.

She teetered on her stool, and Stone’s arm shot out, clasping her shoulder gently.

“Did it work?” He swallowed. “What did you see?”

“Your family farm, Stone. And your home. It was modest. You had four siblings, and the youngest one was a girl. She adored you, and you loved her.”

“A little sister.” He blinked.

“She called you Da Ge.”

His eyes widened. “And I called her Mei Er.”

Skybright nodded.

“I wish I could remember my given name. All of my memories feel as if they’re trapped behind a dam.” His fingers tightened against her shoulder. She didn’t think he realized he still held it.

“I did see a character by the ancestor altar, written onto a red slip of paper,” she said, remembering, and snapped her fingers. “Give me a brush with ink, and I’ll draw the character for you.”

Without even bothering to check if anyone was observing them, he magically summoned a calligraphy brush, its tip so laden with ink it dripped onto the rice paper conjured on the table beneath it. He passed it over with an unsteady hand. Hopeful. Nervous. She could taste it. He held the corner of the paper down, seemingly holding his breath.

Skybright couldn’t recall ever grasping a calligraphy brush in her hand. There had never been a reason for her to learn, although Zhen Ni had taken lessons in the more simplified women’s language. Fortunately, this word was easy to replicate, straight lines and boxes, stacked almost like windows in a building. “It looked something like this,” she murmured.

“Gao!” Stone exclaimed. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, as if seeing something beneath his lids, and said, “Gao Yong Ming. That was my name.”

“Tall as your family name. Courageous and bright as your given name? Your parents had high hopes for you.”

He opened his eyes, and they shone with unshed tears. He blinked them away. “They did. I was the eldest son. They hoped that I would become more than a farmer. That I would become educated …” He smiled a small smile. “They never knew how high I actually climbed.”

He grabbed for her hand, startling her. They had held hands many times before, whenever he led her through the portals like an obedient lamb. But this time, it felt different. Stone stroked her palm with his rough fingertips, sending warmth through her, igniting all her senses, until her ears felt as if they were on fire. “We share the same character in our names,” he murmured.

Ming.

Bright.

She didn’t even know who had given her her name. Certainly not her own mother. Most likely Lady Yuan when she had accepted the bundled baby as a present and servant to her unborn child. Or perhaps Nanny Bai did, believing Skybright might have fallen from the sky on a clear day. Skybright didn’t know. She probably would never know.

“Thank you, Skybright. For doing this for me.” He leaned closer. “I knew you were kind.”

Something strong resonated between them. His touch against her wrist, where he had moved his rough fingers, was all she felt; her senses leaped to that point. But then she smelled something unfamiliar, something she’d never smelled from Stone before: desire. The unmistakable scent rendered her lightheaded for a moment, and her entire body reacted, flushing. He was watching her with those warm brown eyes, hesitant.

Uncertain.

She wound her other hand behind his neck and guided him to her until their lips met. She drew in a small breath from shock, but then was falling into all the sensations of having his full mouth upon hers. Oh, so different from the few kisses they had shared before, where his magic would actually tear her sense of self away from the physical pleasure. This, this she felt to the essence of her being, as he kissed her deeper, tasting sweet like the dessert he had eaten. She breathed him in, laying a hand on his cheek rough with stubble, desire pooling hot at her core. Her serpent self hissed deep inside, writhing to be unleashed, but she quelled it. This was no time to turn.

She had wanted Stone from the start but had fought the desire. It was so much easier when he was immortal, removed, something above herself. But this young man who had kissed a hot path from her throat to nibble on her lobe, with one hand gliding from her waist to her hip, squeezing her there, pulling her closer so that the stool actually tilted—he was much harder to resist. Stone made a low sound, seeking her mouth again, and all she could think about was dragging him by the sleeve into the copse of trees behind them and stripping him free of his dusty clothes. Of feeling his bare skin against hers, of being closer than she ever thought was possible.

Like when she had been with Kai Sen.

Kai Sen.

Feeling guilty and confused, she pulled away from Stone. His cheeks were even more flushed than after his two cups of wine, and he appeared to be in some sort of daze.