Abi is eleven years old when he steps out of his bedchamber one morning and nearly collides with a complete stranger. The presence of strange men in Lord Eun-bi's palace is not really remarkable, as there is a constant flow of supplicants and delegations and neighboring nobility flocking in and out of the audience chamber, but Abi's room is in the private royal quarters, far from his father's throne-room. No one ever comes here except members of the royal family and their servants. Abi instinctively stiffens with his back to his door, his hand flying to the long-hilted dagger at his belt, and he stares up at the intruder, waiting for either a groveling apology or an assassin's blade.

He gets neither.

"Good morning," the stranger says brightly, stepping backwards out of Abi's way. "What is your name?"

"You don't know?" Abi says, stupidly. Everyone knows him. Even if they would not recognize his face, the jade ornament in his hair and the bright blue edging on his robes would give away his status as the Lord Eun-bi's favored son. The stranger shakes his head.

"No. Should I?"

Then, misreading Abi's silence: "If it is a secret, you do not have to tell me."

Abi is not sure why he does not tell this man his name, as imagining the look on this man's face when he realizes he is in the presence of Lord Eun-bi's favorite son is thoroughly amusing. But instead, he takes a step away from his door and shakes his head. Perhaps it is because he has a nagging suspicion that his name would mean nothing to this person, and he does not want that suspicion confirmed.

"Tell me yours, instead," he orders. The man courteously folds his hands into his ragged sleeves and bows. It is not a bow deep enough as that due to royalty, as he does not fully prostrate himself on the floor, but the very inappropriateness of the well-meant gesture makes Abi grin.

"I am Hiryuu," the man says simply, his long red hair falling flame-bright over his shoulders. Abi is confused, because surely an elegant name like that belongs to someone a bit more regal looking than this vagabond, but he supposes that he could be a priest or some similarly holy man. He knows from one of Eun-bi's foreign wives that some of the other clans worship dragons, after all.

He is about to ask what Hiryuu's business is with Eun-bi when the gleam of yellow gold catches his eye. He must make some expression that betrays his interest, because the man laughs.

"Do you like it?" The man with the red hair asks, smiling, and then he bends down lower so Abi can see it better, pulling the pendant out of his shirt collar and holding it between pinched fingers. It dangles and spins, the pure gold of it flashing dizzily in the sunlight, reminding Abi of the goldfish in the garden pond. The dragon design is marvelously crafted, more beautiful than any carving Abi has seen in his father's house, even better than the jade lions on the pillars, or the cranes on the walls. Dazzled and delighted, he reaches out to touch the pendant—and then stops, realizing his rudeness. But the man only laughs again. Normally, Abi would be outraged by anyone laughing at him, but somehow he does not mind this time. There is no mockery in the sound.

"I don't have anything like it," Abi admits, and he doesn't mean to sound petulant but he very much does anyway. The man takes Abi's hand and before Abi can snatch it away—he is startled into inaction, for no one ever touches him without permission in this house, not for years—Hiryuu sets the medallion in Abi's open palm. It is a lot heavier than it looked, for all its delicate engraving. The metal warms quickly against his skin. It is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

"You don't have anything like it because it was not made by human hands," the man explains, looking pleased. "It is from heaven."
Abi shoots him a skeptical look and pulls his hand away, even though he wants nothing more than to hold the pendant longer, marveling at it. It drops back to hang from the man's slim neck, twisting a little with the force of the fall.

"I'm eleven years old," Abi says. "I'm not interested in baby stories anymore."

The man opens his mouth to reply but whatever he was going to say is lost when there is a sudden shout from behind him.

"Hiryuu!"

The red-haired man straightens up so fast Abi startles, and he turns around to wave a welcoming hand in the air.

"Hello, Guen. I've found myself another friend here already, see?"

Abi is not sure that he likes being called a friend by this red-haired stranger, but he does not know how to protest without sounding petty. He settles for folding his arms and drawing himself up regally as Guen approaches. He cannot quite hide his disdain as he examines this new arrival. He can now understand Hiryuu being here—his magnificent golden pendant all but confirms Abi's theory that he is a high-ranking priest from some other clan—but the tall, broad-shouldered man stumping towards them up the hallway is clad in dirty white furs and rough homespun, his dark hair shaggy and uncombed and falling into his eyes. Abi has only seen a handful of peasants in his lifetime, and all of them only from a significant distance, but even so he knows one when he sees one. This man stands out against the jade and darkwood elegance of the palace like a weed in a rose garden.

"Last I checked we were here to meet with the Lord, not with his children," Guen retorts, sparing barely a glance for Abi. "What on earth were you doing with him, anyway?"

"I thought I would explore the place a little while we waited," Hiryuu admits, "and then I saw him admiring my medallion. So I thought—"

"You cannot go giving valuables away to just anyone who likes them," Guen interrupts exasperatedly, and Abi glares up at him resentfully.

"I was not giving it away," the red-haired man argues, but he looks a little sheepish as he tucks the pendant back beneath the collar of his tunic. Guen rolls his eyes and sets a firm hand at the red-haired man's elbow.

"Eun-bi has returned, and he has agreed to see you. We need to go to the audience chamber now. You know how important it is that you make a good impression with him. His influence—"

"I know, Guen. I am coming," Hiryuu says, and he glances down at Abi, giving the tiniest of waves goodbye.

Abi does not wave back. After the odd duo disappear around the corner, Abi makes his way down to the armory to collect his training sword before heading out to the parade grounds for his daily drills. He spends the day sparring and practicing his forms for a few hours before returning to the palace for a meal and a bath and then more hours of study in the library, where he argues philosophy with his tutor and practices his calligraphy, writing his own name neatly on his wax tablet again and again and imagining how it will look one day on official documents beside the red seal of his house. Abi son of Eun-bi, Lord of the Eastern Fire. He likes the look of the characters very much.

He does not tell anyone about his meeting with Hiryuu that morning. The red-haired priest and his peasant friend stay nearly a week, eating at the high table and spending long hours in private meetings with Eun-bi, but Abi never has the opportunity to talk with Hiryuu again, and he does not seek the man out. But when Hiryuu leaves, it is with nearly half of Eun-bi's massive army, as well as a personal escort composed of Eun-bi's highest ranking officers, and at their head is Tuen, bearing a letter signed by Eun-bi's own hand that is meant to be delivered to the surrounding clans by Eun-bi's own celebrated son. Lady Kura brags about it for weeks: about how it was her own son who was chosen by his father to be his messenger to the clans, and to serve as guard and herald for a god. For hadn't the other wives heard that that strange boy with the crimson hair was a god? He had come from heaven to rule all the clans, and Eun-bi was going to be his right-hand man, and her son was already such very good friends with him. How good it would be, for their clan, to have a leader who is best of friends with a god.

Abi has never sought out Lady Kura's company, but after Hiryuu leaves he quickly grows accustomed to spending all his time actively trying to avoid both her and the Lady Li-he, who stalks the palace halls with all the sour fury of a vengeful ghost, and who he knows would take out her temper on him if she could. Lady Kura's talk has his nerves strained enough without having to humor his ambitious mother's frustration, especially since his father has had no audiences with him since Hiryuu's arrival, and even at mealtimes is always deep in discussion with his councilors and tacticians, sparing not even a glance for Abi. Do not fret, Abi-chan, Lady Hana tries to comfort him one evening, he has not forgotten you; he is only busy. Abi, far from being comforted, snaps at her to leave him alone and then spends a sleepless night pacing his room, a wreck of nervous energy. If he was performing his role better, he knows, his father could never feel too busy to include him. He doesn't want his mother to tell him so, so he continues to dodge Li-he as best he can, but he knows it is the truth.

He does not dwell on the idea that Hiryuu is a god, or a dragon, or both, not even when his family's ancestral shrines are dismantled and replaced with red dragon idols. Hiryuu had not looked like a god to him, but then again, Abi knows nothing about gods, really. He has never cared to. Instead, he throws himself into his studies and practices his sword forms until his palms blister, split open, and then callous over like leather. He starts trying to make conversation in the soldiers' mess and in his father's hall at mealtimes, mimicking Tuen's friendly demeanor as best he can, but most people are too wary of him to talk long, and he soon gives up the uncomfortable effort. He tries to cheer himself up by practicing his father's intimidating walk and his mother's cool expressions in his vanity mirror and by making a game of replacing all his personal servants—men and women who have served him since his birth, chosen by Lady Li-he herself—with his favorites among the servants who serve his various siblings. The household servants are all cowed and in awe of him enough to accept the change in circumstances without protest, which he finds almost as amusing as his siblings' simmering fury at the theft. Above all, he tries not to think about Tuen and Hiryuu—not to imagine them traveling alongside each other on the dusty road, Tuen laughing his bright laugh that makes everyone love him, and Hiryuu with his voice somehow grave and glad all at once, and his hair like leaping flames. He tries not to imagine how splendid and impressive they both will look, riding proudly up to the surrounding clans' gates and declaring Hiryuu's divine authority with Eun-bi's army vast behind them. He tries not to imagine Hiryuu showing Tuen that golden medallion.

I was his friend first, is a secret he guards jealously, hoarding it like something precious to take out and look at only when no one else is watching.

Tuen might think he is his friend now. But I was first.