Girls of Storm and Shadow (Girls of Paper and Fire, #2)(16)
“The famous Black Blade of Lady Uh-rih,” Shiu breathed. His beady eyes glimmered. “May I?” he said, even as he was already reaching out.
“With pleasure.”
Naja moved so quickly the Councilor was still smiling when the blade pierced his skin. Her forward thrust was powerful, her aim exacting. All it took was one clean sweep of her arm to bury the sword between his ribs and into his heart.
Councilor Shiu’s eyes popped. Blood welled up at its edges as his hands wrapped weakly around the blade where it protruded from his chest, his mouth flopping.
Naja held the sword with two hands, steady, her face expressionless. As the man fell to his knees, she slid it free, pondering how the famous weapon’s latest opponent was no doubt the least impressive of all. What a shame to add his name to its inventory.
“Thank you again, Councilor,” she said, wiping the blade on her robes. Blood soaked darkly into the expensive silk. No matter. She had many more hanging in her wardrobes. “You were right to come to me. The King will be extremely pleased with the information you have provided us. But I couldn’t let you live, of course. Your shaman spies shall have to be disposed of, too, though they should be easy enough to find. We would much prefer to find Ketai Hanno and deal with him ourselves. It is a political matter, but a private one, too. You understand.”
She didn’t add that she couldn’t risk others discovering the Clan Lord before her. If, as she believed, the two human girls would be found with him, then the truth about what happened to the King would be known. She would find them, and silence them before they could speak.
And she didn’t need the help of some Paper nobody to do it.
Slumped at her feet, the councilor’s lips moved, a wordless croak escaping him. But Naja was already turning away. There was a metallic shing as she returned the sword to its sheath. Carefully, she set it back into its place on the wall then strode to the door.
Before she left, she looked over her shoulder. Shiu had finally fallen still, collapsed in an embarrassing position on the floor, face down, hips high. A pool of red circled him, blood already leaching into the bamboo matting.
Naja clicked her tongue. Hopefully the maids wouldn’t take too long to clear it up. Bodies were easy to dispose of. But bloodstains on fur and furnishings?
Noticing a speck of scarlet on her wrist as she slid the door open, the color stark against her snow-white coat, the fox demon sighed.
Always a nightmare.
SIX
KETAI HANNO’S VISIT PASSES SO QUICKLY that in what feels like no time at all it’s time for us to set off on our mission. We go over the plans once more over breakfast of congee laced with mountain ginger before ferrying our supplies outside. Wren and I perform a final sweep of the temple to make sure we haven’t missed anything. The others are waiting out front as we walk down the wide stone stairs for the last time. Morning sunlight sparkles on the forest’s snowy carpeting. The once perfectly laid drifts have been mussed by our movements, but beyond the temple the grounds stretch still and crystalline. High overhead, the sky is a lid of cerulean. The blizzard calmed sometime yesterday afternoon, and coming out of the temple’s shadow into the sunshine gives me the sense of being cleansed, of being washed by light.
I take a full breath. The air tastes fresh and sweet. Hopeful.
Two snow-made pecalang sit at the bottom of the temple steps. Bo and I made them yesterday while taking a break from preparations. One has slumped out of shape, now resembling a drunken man more than the snow leopards we created out of respect for the creature we met in the forest three days ago. A hastily covered patch of vomit sits behind the other one, a reminder of Bo’s hangover from a second night of plum wine overindulgence. As we reach the bottom of the steps, I give the pecalang closest to me a pat.
“Wish us luck,” I whisper—only for it to promptly collapse into a heap of glittering ice.
Wren arches a brow. “That can’t be a good sign,” she says, though there’s amusement in her voice.
I snatch my hand back guiltily. “Maybe it represents the royal court crumbling to nothing under our might? Or the dissolution of corruption and oppression across Ikhara?”
“Or our total abandonment by the gods,” Bo suggests as he and his sister come over. “How all our lives will amount to is a pile of crushed hopes and dreams. You know, something like that.”
“Of course,” Nitta says, “it could also just mean that Lei here is as clumsy as ever.” She swings a big leather pack into my arms. “Tell me if this is too heavy. I know you’re not used to this sort of thing.”
Though I’ve already doubled over from the bag’s weight, I grit my teeth and heft it onto my back. Wren helps me adjust the straps. “What?” I say. “Questing? Conducting secret war missions? All in a day’s work for me.” I try to shrug, but my shoulders don’t move.
Bo raises an unimpressed brow that instantly disappears when Nitta hands him a pack. “This one’s yours.”
“Sweet baby Samsi!” he curses. “What’s in this thing? Your secret stash of plum wine? Anti-fungal creams? Fanmail from my many admirers you’ve been hiding all this time?”
Nitta rolls her eyes. “If only it were your fanmail. Then the bag would be empty and you wouldn’t be complaining.”
Before the siblings’ squabbling can gain momentum, Ketai’s voice rings out through the clearing. “Ready, everyone?”