Chapter 35: Theme of a Moonlit Night
A hundred paces into the woods, they came upon a small glade. If Hugo hadn't held her hand, Chris would have stumbled multiple times along the way. But by now her eyes had adjusted enough to the moonlight that she could make out the tall trees surrounding a grassy slope broken up by flowery bushes and several flat rocks. A large, familiar shape mounted one of the rock formations, and it took a moment for Chris to recognize it.
It was only when the shape stood up that she realized what she was looking at.
"Oh no," she said, cold sweat breaking out on her neck. She wrested her hand free from Hugo's grip and stepped back. "You would not."
Fubar had been curled up on the rock, resting. Now he perked at the sound of feet on the slope, and lifted his feathered head to peer at them.
Hugo turned and walked backwards up the slope. The moonlight revealed a cocksure grin on his face. "Let's fly, girl."
"You are drunk," she protested, trying to slow her panicked breathing. Her head swam. "We both are," she realized. "But you are mad. I would not get on that creature's back unless lives were at stake."
Hugo swung his head back and forth in forceful denial. "You're not drunk enough. Where's your courage? Knightly valor, or whatever?"
Chris stalked up to him, a scowl on her face. "You, sir, are goading me." And rather successfully, she admitted. Old habits died hard. Ever since she had been a cadet in training to be a squire, she had never been able to back down from a challenge.
Hugo couldn't keep a straight face. His lip kept curling up in a grin. "And you, lady, are afraid."
Chris frowned at Fubar, and the beast raised its head to stare back. She forced herself to approach, until the creature was within striking range and towered over her. But it was not the beast's sharp beak and wicked talons that frightened her. She had seen Hugo around Fubar, and knew the beast would never harm his beloved master or the master's companions.
No, it was the thought of flight that scared her senseless. The thought of hurtling through the air, with nothing but hundreds of feet of empty space beneath your feet, on the back of what was essentially a glorified chicken. Madness, that's what it was! And they were both drunk. They should not be flying in their state, and especially not in the middle of the night, when all they had to go by was moonlight.
She had to admit, though – flight had its advantages. At a time like this, they sorely needed every advantage they could get. Whatever Hugo was trying to pull, his challenge made sense to her, in a strange sort of way. If she could not master her fear of flying, she would remain a slave to it forever. She had done this before, and in spite of how terrified she'd felt from start to finish, she had survived, had she not? Flying must be like anything else – the sword, or swimming, or speaking in front of a crowd. The second time was always easier.
She reached out a hand and laid it against Fubar's beak. The griffin leaned into the touch, like a cat rubbing up against a person. Against her better judgment, Chris found that the gesture evoked a warm reaction in her.
Turning to Hugo, she said, "Very well. Let us fly."
Chris had been wrong. Flying was nothing like the sword, or swimming, or speaking in front of a crowd.
It was more like dying.
She had her arms around Hugo's waist, holding on for dear life. Her knees were pressed into Fubar's flank so hard that she could barely feel her legs anymore, and she wished with all her heart for a proper saddle, some stirrups, anything to anchor herself more securely. Her heart was racing so fast she thought it might burst. The wind whipped her hair back and forth, and each time the beast pitched or banked, she felt her stomach rise to her throat.
If she was hurting him with her grip, Hugo didn't seem to notice. He was hooting and hollering, laughing in pure exhilaration with every move the griffin made under his guiding hands. Reaching forward to pat the beast's neck, Hugo directed the griffin into a plummeting spiral that snatched the breath from Chris's lungs and took them down to just above the treetops, where they leveled out.
She took the time to catch her breath, glad to be moving in a straight line for the moment. Hugo had stopped laughing, but she could sense the thrill in him, even though his face was turned forward, away from her.
She envied him that. That pure laugh, the unaffected way he showed emotion, the self-assurance in every movement he made, as if acting on some deep-rooted belief that his natural instincts could never lead him wrong.
Fubar raced over the treetops, so close that Chris drew her feet up to increase the gap. She fixed her eyes on the horizon, not daring to look below no matter how tempting it was. Slowly, Chris felt herself warming to the experience. This was not so bad. She could get used to this.
Then Hugo nudged Fubar into a steep ascent.
Suddenly, Chris was clutching Hugo's waist to keep from pitching backwards off the griffin. Or at least that was how she felt. Hugo simply locked his feet and pressed his belly to the griffin, and that seemed to be enough, somehow. Chris made the mistake of looking down, and saw the ground shrinking beneath her. She bit her tongue to keep from screaming.
Hugo turned his head to glance over his shoulder. "Isn't it awesome?" he shouted over the wind. The grin on his face looked as if it might never come off again.
Chris made no reply.
"Are you ready?" he wondered, again in a shout.
Confused, Chris leaned forward to shout into his ear, "Ready for what?" But Hugo was not waiting for her answer. He gave a command, and the griffin slowed. For a moment, the great beast hung there in the air, as if suspended in the heavens. Then he tucked into a dive, and plummeted.
The ground rushed up to meet them. Chris screamed.
This time, the sound was not born only out of fear.
Fubar hit the ground at a run and slowed, pushing Chris up against Hugo's back. He came to rest on the slope of the glade from which they had taken flight. The beast was lathered and near exhaustion. Hugo had driven his companion hard on their made flight. But Hugo recognized the glow of contentment in Fubar's eyes as he patted the beast's feathered pate.
Hugo swung off Fubar and pulled Chris from her seat. The knight descended on shaky legs, into his arms. Hugo's heart raced. From the flight, from the brandy. From her. He waited for Chris to catch her breath. Her skin was slick with sweat, and the Kinese dress clung to her body, distractingly. It conjured up images from memory, of the knight's naked legs glistening in the lamplight of her room.
Chris wiped damp hair from her eyes, gave a nervous laugh. "I never thought I would actually…" she hesitated, glanced at the resting gryphon in disbelief. "…Actually enjoy this madness!"
Hugo tore his eyes from her waist, forced a grin. In a moment of boldness, he took her hand in his. Chris gave a start, but didn't pull away. "Among the Karaya," Hugo said, "We say that strong emotion turns to poison if bottled inside the heart. If held onto for too long, it can kill you. It's good to let it out."
Chris shook her head. An ironic smile played on her lips. "Among the knights, we are taught to contain our emotions and preserve reason. In so doing, we can keep ourselves and our comrades alive on the battlefield, when anger and fear intrudes."
Hugo placed a hand on the small of her back. "I like you better when you're screaming with joy."
Chris's lips parted, and she gave him a look like she wasn't sure whether he was jesting or not.
"Sometimes, you have to let the poison out," Hugo said. "Even if you're a knight." He moved closer. He saw the moon reflected in her eyes. Her face was so near, it was difficult to speak. Spirits, it was difficult just to breathe! All those days and nights traveling together, facing death side by side, had slowly seeded his thoughts with this other side of Chris. Spirits knew, he'd always thought her beautiful, stunning even, but only in the way one admires a distant mountain capped with clouds, or the surface of a lake glittering in the afternoon sun. He'd seen only the stern exterior, the icy manner, and the rigid posture sheathed in an iron skin. Over time, he'd seen hints of the woman beneath, with her glittering eyes and shy smiles, with skin that felt silky to the touch. He wanted to see more of that woman. He yearned to feel her skin in his hands. But he could sense her holding back, even now.
Chris gave him a searching look. He saw the rise and fall of her breast, breath coming quicker. She remained quiet for a time, her face betraying nothing. Her back felt warm under his hand. Hugo thought his heart would beat its way out of his chest. Why wouldn't she say something?
Chris's lips parted, but no words came. Hugo was about to speak. Then she leaned in, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and pressed her lips to his.
Hugo's head swam. He returned her kiss. Her lips tasted salty, of sweat, but with an undertone of cherry sweetness from the brandy. And beneath it, just her. Hugo's temples burned. Surely this was what it felt like to be struck with lightning. She leaned on him, eyes closed, lips eagerly probing his. Hugo shifted his feet to take her weight, and slid his hands into her hair. He gripped her neck as he explored her lips.
She made a small moan into his mouth.
Hugo nearly stumbled. The True Fire Rune flared up and a tongue of flame sparked from his palm. Hugo staggered back, breaking the kiss. Chris gasped, and nearly fell forward. Flames licked Hugo's hand, his fingers cramping up into a fist. Hugo shivered with agony as the True Fire Rune fought to release its power. Hugo held his hand up, staring at the glowing rune there. His vision blurred. Gritting his teeth, Hugo summoned up every ounce of self-control he had to seize control of the pulsating rune. The confusing bundle of emotion in his head didn't help. It threatened to get out of control.
With one final burst of effort, Hugo forced the rune back into dormancy.
Chris regarded him with concern, hands at her waist. "Are you alright?"
Hugo nodded. In truth, he felt like an idiot. The tender moment was lost, and all because of his carelessness. He scratched at his cheek, looking at the ground.
Chris fidgeted nervously. She seemed to master herself, then and there, as if what had just passed between them had never happened. "Well," she said. "You see the usefulness of containing one's emotions."
Hugo laughed bitterly. The knight now stood before him calm and relaxed. She seemed utterly composed again. Closed to him. Another person. He felt a burst of frustration.
"I want to see the real Chris," he said.
Chris regarded him cautiously. She spread her hands. "This is her."
"No. You're putting on an act. You always do." Hugo heard the impatience in his voice, but couldn't help it. "It's always Knight Captain Chris Lightfellow with you. It's like you don't dare show me the real Chris, the one beneath the armor. You're a leader, and you can't afford to show your true self all the time. I get that. But, you never drop the act. Tonight, I felt like, just briefly, I got to see the real Chris. But then something happens…" His throat flushed with color, and he felt angry with himself for the reaction. "Then something happens and it's back to the Knight Captain." He advanced on her, gave her a pleading look. "The way you smiled," he said in a softer voice, "I liked that. And I'm sure you liked it too."
Chris stared at him. Her eyes were cold, dangerous. She remained silent for a time. When she spoke, her voice was calm and level, betraying emotion held back. "This was a mistake." Hugo's heart sank even before Chris turned away from him. "Let us return to the village," she said.
Hugo watched her go, throat suddenly dry. Then he started after her. Neither of them spoke as they walked.
Chris stared up at the twinkling stars as she soaked in the outdoor tub. Servants had heated water to pour into the large wooden bath, and the sting of the hot water was a welcome respite from the chill night air.
Hugo's words still echoed in Chris's head. I want to see the real Chris. She could not decide whether to feel flattered or insulted by his words. Perhaps both. Hugo had touched a nerve, and her instincts told her to pull back. She still seethed at the accusation, though a small part of her suggested that perhaps she was not being entirely fair. Perhaps his words stung because she felt the truth in them. It was hard to tell. She still felt drunk on brandy, and her thoughts were a confused jumble of emotions.
"I kissed him," she said. She felt betrayed by her feelings. She was upset with him, but all she could think of was that kiss. The warmth of his lips pressed against her. His breath on her face.
The other two women in the tub had listened to the whole story, but she had left this detail out, saving it for last. Her friends stirred, water splashing. Lilly gasped, rose out of the water. "You hussy!" The Tinto princess' cheeks burned red-hot, a combination of brandy, steam, and her own brand of indignant anger. She brandished her closed fist.
"Sit down," Yumi muttered, yanking Lilly back into the water by the arm. "I want to hear more. What happened?" If Lilly's face showed evidence of intoxication, the truth of Yumi's was clear as day – the woman was drunk. Her eyelids fluttered heavily, and her shoulders swayed even as she leaned on the tub's planked wall.
By the time Chris got back to the village after their nighttime excursion, the feast had built past its fever pitch and settled down. With most of the crowd incapacitated by exhaustion or engaged in clandestine trysts, the early morning hours gave way to a more muted affair.
Sleep had been the last thing on Chris's mind, however. Her thoughts had raced like thunderclouds in her mind, driving her to seek distraction. She needed someone to talk to, someone to take her mind off things. Percival was nowhere to be found – Chris honestly didn't want to think about what he might be doing – and so she'd sought the company of the two women who had kept the celebration going among the debris of the greatest feast thrown in Alma-Kinan in a generation.
When she found them, Yumi and Lilly had been passing a bottle of dwindling brandy around, stumbling over sleeping revelers and playing a bizarre sort of game that seemed to involve telling embarrassing secrets about yourself. Once she'd sternly dissuaded them from the notion that she would take part in their game, Chris had managed to sober the women up enough to accept a more appealing activity – a nighttime dip in one of the village's screened-off hot water tubs.
Lilly pouted like a little girl. "I knew I shouldn't have left him alone with you," she muttered.
Chris sighed. "Nothing happened. We had an argument, and I left." She had decided to leave out Hugo's struggle with the True Fire Rune. It would hardly be in the spirit of the celebrations to point out that the Flame Champion could barely control his True Rune. She worried for him. She worried that he would not be able to control the rune in the long term. She worried that the rune would steal his humanity, or even his life. She wanted desperately to shoulder some of that burden for him, but she knew there was no way. She had lost that opportunity when she had let him take the True Rune.
Yumi's brows rose. Then she burst into pearly laughter. "Oh, Chris… Don't you think there's some truth to what he says? You don't exactly wear your heart on your sleeve."
Chris felt hot emotion simmer back up. She did not like the archer's grin. "Why should I? If Hugo cares for me, should he not take me as I am?" Even as she finished the sentence, she averted her gaze in embarrassment. Why was she acting like a love struck girl, speaking as if the match was a foregone conclusion? Yumi was a bad influence on her, she decided.
The Kinese woman rolled her shoulders, and the grin changed into a sagely smile. "Fair enough. So you'd reject Hugo because he wants you to be yourself around him? Because he likes to see you happy?"
Chris started to speak, but thought better of it. She felt tongue-tied, tricked. Of course it sounded mad when Yumi put her actions in those words. But that was not the case. Certainly, she could be a bit strait-laced at times, and some had called her stiff in social situations. And perhaps she struggled to convey her emotions at times. But it was not as if she paraded around like an actress on a stage, acting out the role of someone else!
Lilly shrugged. "As much as I hate to say it, and as much as Hugo's a fool for pursuing you when I'm right here—no offense, Chris—I have to agree that you're being unreasonable."
Chris almost choked when she heard Lilly use that word – unreasonable. Her head still swam from the drink, as her thoughts slowly cleared, she began to wonder if what Yumi said was true. She bit her lip, and went over each word Hugo had spoken to her. There beneath the lanterns of the glade, with the drums pounding in tune with her heart, with Hugo's hands guiding her, she had truly felt a part of the crowd. She had felt liberated, carefree, and happy in ways she had not experienced since she had been a girl with her hair in braids. The brandy had played its part, far more importantly, she had truly felt the music. The sound of flutes still rang in her ears, and her body still rocked to the beat of long-gone drums. In that moment, she had not wanted to break the silence between Hugo and her, for fear of also breaking the spell that bound them. I want to see the real Chris. That is what he had said. Had she been wrong to pull back for that?
Yumi rose from her seat, weaving slightly. She stretched her arms, water dripping from her body. She had a thoughtful look on her face. "Well. I'll bet Hugo's in his room by now." She climbed out of the tub to towel herself dry.
Chris stood. "Where are you doing?"
Yumi ran her fingers through her hair. Her eyes glimmered in the Alma-Kinan night. She turned to Chris and, with a perfectly level voice, said, "The night is still young." She squinted up at the sky, where the first blush of morning twilight brightened the dark. "Or if it's morning already, then it's a new day, isn't it? I've had too much to drink and I haven't had a man in… I don't even want to think about how long it's been. Hugo's damned cute, and if you're not going to do anything about it, I will."
Lilly burst out of the water like a breaching dolphin. "What!" She clambered over the tub, nearly falling as she scampered after Yumi. The Kinese woman wrapped the towel about her chest and walked off.
Chris stared after her friends. A tight, possessive feeling burned in her chest. She did not know whether to laugh or cry, so she got out of the tub to dry herself and don a woolen robe. She felt clear-headed now. The fog of brandy was gone.
She, too, had made a decision.
Hugo lay awake in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. The dark wooden timbers were sheathed in inky blackness, the room's only illumination the shaky flame of a candle on his nightstand. Hugo tossed on rumpled sheets, wrestling with bitter and confused emotions.
He shouldn't have pushed her. Looking back, he'd been as dim-witted as an ox to say what he did. He should have known it could only end like this. He blamed himself, and the regret tasted as bitter as vinegar. At the same time, the frustration still lingered. She had to know he was right. But out of some stubborn determination, some knightly virtue of perseverance, she refused to admit to it. She'd kissed him. That much had been true. In that moment she'd thrown determination and perseverance to the winds, and given herself to him. Running through that moment over and over in his memories was torture to Hugo.
The creak of the door being pushed open stirred Hugo from his thoughts. Someone stood in the doorway. Hugo sat up on the bed. The corridor outside was blanketed in darkness, leaving the figure in the doorway outlined only by the faintest glow of the candle.
"Who's there?" Hugo asked warily. He reached out, fingers fumbling around the nightstand before gripping the hilt of his dagger.
"I'm sorry about before," said a low, sultry voice. "Can I come in?"
Hugo got up, leaving the dagger where it lay. "Chris?!"
There came a giggle from the doorway. Hugo heard naked feet pad across the floorboards and a female form took shape in the candle's warm glow. She had a towel wrapped around her chest, but as she came into the light, she unfolded the fabric, and let the towel drop in her wake.
Yumi embraced him, pressing her bare chest against his. She smiled radiantly. "Not quite," she said. "Are you disappointed? I didn't want you to be lonely..."
Hugo stared in shock and disbelief. Blood rushed from his head as the Kinese woman pressed her naked body against his. Her silky smooth leg rubbed against his. He could smell brandy on her breath.
"Yumi! Are you mad?" Hugo took hold of her shoulders, and gently but firmly pushed her away from him. Yumi fought, giggling, but he was far too strong for her. Hugo backed off a few steps, keeping the woman at a distance. He left Yumi in an embarrassing position, legs crossed and hands covering as best they could.
Yumi did not seem deterred. She pouted, feigning an injury to her pride. "What's wrong?" she asked, "Don't you find me attractive?"
Hugo tore his eyes from Yumi's body, flushing. He stared at the candle, at the dark corners of the room. He looked everywhere but at her.
Yumi advanced on him again, slowly, swaying as she walked. Taking her time, like a hunting cat. She laughed, and the sound of her laughter was pearly and filled with delight.
"Stop right there!" a voice barked. Lilly stood in the doorway, holding a candle in one hand and wielding her rapier in the other. She wore a towel and, for a wonder, one of her wide-brimmed feathered hats.
Lilly's eyes darted over the room and assessed the situation. She drew sharply for breath. "Scandalous!" Face twisted in fury, sword brandished high, Lilly launched into her attack. Yumi retreated, alternately shrieking and laughing. The pursuit carried the two around the room. Hugo tracked them with his eyes, his jaw hanging. He kept expecting, any moment, the entire building to come barging into his room wondering what the racket was. Thankfully, the festival's aftermath would have most of the village's denizens in a deep sleep from which most would stir only at noon.
"You're just jealous I got here first!"
"That's not—" Lilly glanced at Hugo, and blushed. The blade of her rapier swished as she slashed the air. Far as Hugo could tell, she meant only to scare the woman, not hurt her. Otherwise she would have used the weapon to puncture instead of lashing it like a whip.
"Cease this!" came a command from the door.
Chris stood in the doorway, straight as a whip and with a still harsher expression on her face. It was clear that Chris Lightfellow had broken up fights before. Without another word, she strode into the room like a giant playing with human-sized toys. Lilly's eyes grew wide, then Chris grabbed her wrist and twisted. Lilly yelped. The sword clattered on the floor, came to rest with the point at an angle. Yumi had time to loose a laugh. Then Chris took her by the ear and yanked her close. Yumi gasped and started whining, head bowed and face grimacing to adjust to the limited range Chris's grip allowed her. She looked like a child caught stealing from the cookie jar.
"Really!" Chris said. "This is no way for ladies to behave." Both women made to protest, but Chris was having none of it. She pushed the sulking ladies to the door and shoved them outside. "Go to bed," she said, before shutting the door on them.
Hugo watched her there, standing with her back to him, palms pressed against the sealed door. "Thanks, I guess," he said. "I've, uh, never had to deal with that. Women fighting over me in my bedroom." The absurdity of the situation hit him even as he said the words, and he gave a nervous laugh.
Chris's robe swished over the floor as she swung around. "You said," she finally started, "You wanted to see the real me."
Hugo stared at her, his throat suddenly dry. Chris balanced on one pale foot, hands hanging at her sides. The woolen dress cinched her waist beneath her breasts, accentuating her milky cleavage. Damp hair fell about her shoulders, glittering golden in the candle's warm light.
"Well," Chris went on, "That is a matter of trust." Her eyes flickered away. "It is… difficult for me."
Hugo approached cautiously, like a woodsman who spots a doe at a watering hole and does not want to startle it. Where before he'd been tongue-tied, now it seemed obvious to him what he had to do. He knew what to say. "In Zexen, there is a knight called the Silver Maiden. Among the Grasslanders, she is called the She-Devil. It's said she is as beautiful as the moon on the first day of autumn, her sword arm as deadly as a scorpion's tail. I've met this knight, fought against her, fought beside her. The stories are true." Hugo hesitated, then said, "But, the Silver Maiden is not the woman I've fallen in love with."
Hugo was gazing into the dark pools of Chris's eyes when he spoke, so he saw her eyes widen, her lips part. "What are you saying…"
Hugo took her hand in his, and felt the calluses where the hilt of her sword had worn into her flesh. He squeezed that hand, so hard compared to the softness of her silky skin. He adored that detail.
"There is a woman among the Ironheads," Hugo said, "Faithful and true. She raises her sword in defense of her people. She fights ferociously, in the name of peace. Like any great chief, she would lay down her life to guard her charges. She is impetuous, sometimes rash. She is stubborn, sometimes foolish. She hides her smiles, hums under her breath for fear of singing, and braids her hair to protect her warrior image. She is the sun and the moon."
Chris's hand rested limply in his, but she did not pull away. Her eyes glistened, wet with unshed tears. She wouldn't meet his gaze. "You have… fallen in love with this woman?" Her voice was low, barely more than a whisper.
Yes, he wanted to say. A thousand times yes. But the word couldn't escape his lips. "We've been through a lot together," he said instead. He still held her hand in his. "Your trust is more precious to me than anything."
"The Silver Maiden," she said, shaking her head. She smiled sadly. "I always hated that epithet. The Silver Maiden… Our Beautiful Goddess… These names emphasize my womanhood while showing contempt for my knighthood." She looked up, eyes accusing. "My outward appearance should be the last thing on the people's minds. To draw attention to it is to insult my knightly virtues."
"You would've made a great Karayan," Hugo said, smiling.
Chris's severe expression broke into a small smile. She remained silent for a time, then she pulled free and turned away from him. "What would a woman of the Karaya do, were she to wrestle with the emotions in my heart?"
Hugo remained still, watching Chris's pale shoulders. She seemed so small in the candle's light, so delicate. "She would follow her heart," he said.
Chris strode towards the door with purpose. Hugo felt a stab of regret. He wanted to speak, but the words were stuck in his throat. All he could do was to watch her go.
She stopped at the door. There, she hesitated for a moment, then lowered the bar in place. When she turned back, she leaned on the door, her breath quicker, her eyes shyly lowered. Hugo watched with something like amazement as Chris walked to the window and pulled the shutters closed.
Chris shrugged one shoulder. "You never know who will come crawling through the window these days." She approached slowly, the train of her woolen dress sweeping the floor. "You want to see the real me," Chris said. She spoke with wonder and astonishment. "I wish to see this woman you have fallen in love with. So for tonight, I will be myself. Tonight, I will do as I please, and damn the consequences."
Chris swept the straps of her dress from her shoulders. Cloth rustled as she let the garment fall.
Not for the first time, Chris's soft curves filled Hugo's eyes. This time, the exquisite sight of her naked flesh was a gift given freely. The swell of her breasts drew him in, the pinkness of her stiff nipples mesmerizing him. Her slender arms rested against the gentle curve of her belly, hands clasped over the soft and pale down of her sex.
This time, no shock marred the knight's smooth brow. No distaste twisted her moist lips. Her cheeks flushed with red. She watched him in silence, eyes deep but unsure, as if doubting the value of what she had given. In the golden light of the candle, Chris offered herself to Hugo, not a knight but a woman baring everything, trusting him not to tear that most vulnerable thing apart.
All the blood in Hugo's head seemed to rush down to his loins. Unable to think, he swept her up in his arms. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, turned her face to his. Hugo felt light-headed as their lips met. Their bodies were pressed so close he could feel her heartbeat thump against his chest. She stumbled back, and he caught her, lifted her into the air.
Chris clung to him, legs gripping his back. "Slowly now…" she breathed. "We do not want to awaken the rune."
The still waters of the sacred spring reflected the moon. Bright and huge, the face of the moon had swelled to near fullness. Tomorrow night, on the eve of the ritual, the moon would be full.
Yun knelt in waist-deep water, submerged to her shoulders, her hands clasped above the surface of the pool. Her knees sank into the muddy bottom. She saw her own reflection next to the moon. She saw sorrow on her own face, and it surprised her. The smile looked forced, silent tears spilling down her face. She couldn't stop them from falling, hard as she tried.
In the still waters, upon the reflection of the mysterious moon, Yun had read her destiny. All her life she had prepared for the ritual of soul-sending. Now that the fateful day was dawning, she found herself unready. She shivered where she knelt, shaking in the cool water of the spring.
She had let herself hope. That's where she had faltered. She had fixated on Chris's presence, hoping against hope that the visions would change, that the knight's coming could change the future. Hoping, against wisdom, that Chris could save her life. In the face of the moon reflected in the sacred spring, she had read the truth that could not be changed.
Her life would end tomorrow.
She had seen more than that. She had read the Destroyers' plot, had felt every hair on her body stand up at the thought. Yun wiped at her tears, gathering courage. Next to the Masked Bishop's horrific plan, her own death seemed a small thing. Pushing up from the muddy bottom, Yun stirred, sending ripples washing over the face of the moon. She waded onto the shore.
The others had to know.