Page 4 of For Ever More

The carriage jerks to a halt at the foot of a hill. As my hands cradle the dragon strapped to me beneath the cloak, Ruilin is gazing out the window, her mouth ajar. Joining her, I forget to breathe. All we’ve seen of the island is beautiful, but this place—the Pavilion of Elders—is a fairy tale come to life.

CHAPTER THREE

A STONE STAIRWAY LEADS UP THE SLOPE, FLANKED BY flowers. The hill is crowned by a large pavilion, vines coiled around the mother-of-pearl pillars. Lanterns hang from the roof, gold and silver dragons rising from the ridges of the turquoise tiles, as bright as a shard of the noon sky. A large building is connected to the back, a few steps away—ringed by thick clusters of bamboo, set in the grounds of an elegant garden.

Guards are stationed around the pavilion, while within a dozen people are gathered before three wooden thrones. Two men and a woman sit there, in robes of blue brocade that pool on the ground. Shining white hair falls over their shoulders, held in place by circlets of six-petaled flowers, glossy as if dipped in dew. Something gleams at each of their waists: matching gold ornaments of a carved blossom.

The Elders sit as straight as columns, their hands adorned with the same rings all here wear, including me. Despite their age, they look just a little older than Dian and me, their unlined faces radiant and calm. My heart beats faster; suddenly I feel unsure of myself.

“Remain by the entrance until you’re summoned,” Father instructs Dian, then strides ahead to join the group before the Elders. They must be the council he’d mentioned. Curious, I edge closer to listen.

“Master Sikyong, where is your daughter?” the woman on the throne asks, her striking features accented by a mole above her lip.

“Outside, Lady Shila. She awaits an audience. Thank you for allowing me to leave to welcome her back.”

“We treasure the bonds of family.” Lady Shila inclines her head. “Your daughter can join us after the council departs.”

Another Elder, a man with a narrow face and a pointed nose, addresses my father. “The others have delivered their reports. Only yours on rare harvests and Mistress Weining’s on the dragons remain. Why don’t you begin, Master Sikyong?”

“Yes, Lord Hairong.” As Father pulls out a scroll from his sleeve and begins reading aloud the yields of certain plants, most of which are unknown to me, I whisper to Dian, “Are we farmers?”

“Not quite,” she replies in an undertone. “Father oversees the cultivation of rare plants here, beyond those grown for food or ornamentation: medicine, herbs, those for protection or defense, such as the seagrass in our waters. Even the poisons—”

“Poisons?”

“Our island is home to plants of powerful properties, both to heal and to kill.” If she weren’t my sister, her smile would be terrifying. “Haven’t you realized an affinity with plants runs in our blood?”

I smile back, thinking of her ability to craft elixirs and incense, even those that blur the lines between dreams and reality, as she’d shown me once. “I want to learn.”

“I will teach you,” she promises. “We have time.”

After Father finishes his report, he adds, “We anticipate a good harvest this year. But if our island’s magic wanes further, it will affect our crops, and we should ration their usage.”

The third Elder, Lord Zhu, a plump man with thick eyebrows and a pinched expression, thanks my father—then turns toward a lady with brown hair who holds herself rigidly, her gaze somber. “Now let us hear from Mistress Weining on the dragons.”

Dian says heavily, “Mistress Weining will be distressed to learn of the Sun Dragon’s condition. Since he was lost, she rarely smiles. She watches over the dragons’ well-being, though she can’t approach or speak to them.”

“Why not?” I ask. “Is she afraid?”

“The dragons are much loved, but reclusive by nature,” Dian explains. “According to the Elders, they wish for us to speak to them through prayers in their temples rather than approaching them. They value their solitude, as tranquility is essential to revive their strength.”

Daughter of Mist Island, will you bring me home? the Sun Dragon asked me in the palace, my chest tight at the memory. Though our encounter was brief, he saw something in me that even now I strive to be worthy of. “The Sun Dragon spoke to me in the Palace of Nine Hills, to aid our escape,” I tell her.

“He suffered greatly there,” Dian says darkly.

Lady Shila faces Mistress Weining. “How fares the Moon Dragon?”

Her thin lips purse as she bows. “The dragon spends most of the day sleeping, rarely swimming in the ocean. Her appetite continues to wane.” Mistress Weining sighs. “She still mourns her lost companion; I fear for her health.”

“Place the finest fruit of the Radiant Sky Trees as offerings in the temples.” Lady Shila’s brow creases with concern. “This winter, we must prepare a grand celebration for the Moon Festival to show the dragon how she is revered.” She meets the eyes of the other Elders, then joins her hands. “The Council of Elders is dismissed. We now welcome Master Sikyong’s daughter, who just returned.”

Though they mean Dian, my insides twist into knots. Soon they will learn about me. I’m not perfect as this place is, nor as talented or powerful as my sister. And deep down I’m afraid they will blame me for my mother’s capture. There are times I blame myself, even though I only wanted to save the dragon back then.

“I will wait outside,” Ruilin offers. “They might feel more at ease without me there.”

Dian squeezes her hand, but doesn’t protest. Her people—ours—seem mistrustful of strangers. We enter the pavilion as the council leaves, only my father remaining. When Mistress Weining passes, she swings to me, halting at once. Does she sense the Sun Dragon hidden beneath my cloak? The impulse grips me to give him to her, but Dian motions for me to join her before the waiting Elders.

“Welcome home,” Lady Shila says to my sister as we bow in greeting. “We are pleased you have returned safely.”