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The Dragon Emperor’s eyes were pure, gleaming cobalt. They roved slowly about the room as he sat up, drinking in the sights of the pagoda.
Rin couldn’t move. She couldn’t even speak—all words seemed insufficient. Some force seemed to be clenching her jaw shut, some gravity that made the air in the temple thicker than rock.
“Can you hear me?” Daji, rising to her knees, pulled Riga’s hands into her own. “Riga?”
He stared at her for a long time. Then he croaked, in a voice like scraping gravel, “Daji.”
Jiang made a choking noise.
Riga’s gaze flickered briefly toward him, then returned to Daji. “How long have I been gone?”
“Twenty years.” Daji cleared her throat. “Do—do you know where you are?”
Riga sat silent for a moment, eyebrows furrowed.
“I’ve been drifting,” he said. At least he sounded nothing like Nezha—his voice was hoarse from disuse, a rusted blade dragging against stone. “I don’t know where. It was dark, and the gods were silent. And I couldn’t get back. I couldn’t find the way. And I kept wondering, who could possibly have . . .” His eyes refocused suddenly on Daji, as if he had just realized he was speaking out loud. “I remember now. We quarreled.”
Daji’s pale throat bobbed. “Yes.”
“And you stopped it.” His gaze lingered on Daji’s face for a long while. Something passed between them that Rin did not understand—something full of remorse, longing, and resentment. Something dangerous.
Abruptly, Riga turned away.
“Ziya,” he commanded. His voice grew smoother, louder, resounding off the pagoda walls.
Jiang’s head jerked up. “Yes.”
“You’ve come around, then?” Riga rose to his feet, shrugging off Daji’s proffered arm. He was much taller than Nezha—if they’d been standing side by side, he would have made Nezha look like a child. “Have you gotten over that stupid girl? That’s why we fought, wasn’t it?”
Jiang’s face was unreadable as stone. “It’s good to see you again.”
Riga turned toward Rin. “And what’s this?”
Rin still couldn’t speak. She tried to take a step backward, but to her horror she found herself frozen in place. Riga’s gaze was like steel spikes nailing her feet to the ground, paralyzing her with seemingly no effort at all.
“How interesting.” Riga tilted his head, eyes roving up and down her form as if surveying a pack animal at market. “I thought they killed them all.”
Rin tried to draw her knife. Her arm wouldn’t listen.
“Kneel,” Riga said softly.
She obeyed instantly. His voice was like a physical force on its own, capable of bending her knees and forcing her gaze to the ground. It vibrated in her bones. It shook the very foundations of the pagoda.
Riga strode slowly toward her. “She’s shorter than the others. Why is that?”
No one answered. He made a humming noise. “I suppose Hanelai was short. Does she follow orders?”
At last, Rin managed to spit out a word. “Orders?”
“Rin, be quiet,” Daji said sharply.
Riga just laughed. “I’m impressed, Ziya. You really found another one to keep around, did you? You always did like your pets.”
“I’m not his pet,” Rin snarled.
“Oh, it talks.”
Riga leaned down and gave her a wide, terrible smile. Then he reached out, seized her collar, and pulled her up into the air in one smooth, easy motion. Rin gasped as his thumbs dug painfully into her windpipe. She kicked out with her feet, but she was swinging entire inches off the ground, and all she could do was brush Riga’s knees with her toes. All her flailing had no more effect than a child throwing a tantrum. Riga pulled her toward him until their eyes were level, their faces so close that she could feel the heat of his breath on her cheeks when he spoke.
“I’ve been asleep for a very long time, little Speerly,” he whispered. “I’m not in the mood for contradiction.”
“Oh, let her go,” Daji said. “You’re going to kill her like that.”
Riga shot her a glare. “Did I give you permission to speak?”
“She’s useful,” Daji insisted. “She’s strong, she helped us get here—”
“Really? That’s pathetic. You used to get these things done on your own.” Riga’s lip curled in amusement. “What is it? Did Ziya fuck this one, too? I must say, his standards have dropped.”
“It’s nothing like that,” Daji said quickly. “She’s just a child, Riga, don’t hurt her—”
“What’s this, darling?” Riga gave a low chuckle. “Finally developing a conscience?”
Daji’s voice became shrill. “Riga, listen to me, let her go.”
Riga opened his fingers.
Rin dropped to the ground, clutching noiselessly at her throat. Riga’s legs loomed above her. She cringed, bracing herself for a vicious kick, but he merely stepped over her as if she were a footstool.
He was headed for Daji.
“Riga—” Daji started, just before Riga drew his hand back and slapped her across the face. Daji’s head whipped to the side. She cried out and clutched her cheek.
“Shut up,” Riga said, and slapped her again. Then again, and again, until a vivid crimson handprint bloomed on Daji’s paper-white cheek. “Shut up, you fucking whore.”
Rin watched them from where she lay, astonished.
For the longest time she had considered Daji—Su Daji, the Vipress, former Empress of Nikan—the most powerful being on earth. From the moment she’d met her, she’d feared her. She’d wanted terribly to be her.
But here Daji stood, shoulders hunched like she was trying to shrivel into nothing while Riga battered her like she was a dog. And she was just taking it.
“Did you think I’d forgotten?” Riga asked hoarsely. “You treacherous little bitch, did you think I don’t know who put me here?”
He raised his hand high. Daji shrank against the wall and loosed a whimpering sob.
“Oh, don’t be like that.” He put his fingers under Daji’s chin and forced her head up. He sighed. “You used to be so pretty when you cried. When did you stop being so pretty?”
Rin wanted to vomit.
Surely Daji wouldn’t take this. Surely she would strike back. Surely Jiang would defend her.
But they only looked away—Daji at her hands, Jiang at the ground. They were both trembling. Then Rin realized that this was nothing new for them; this was a trained response to a terror they’d lived with for years. A terror so incapacitating that now, twenty years later, after half a lifetime of freedom from the man they’d hated, they still cowered meekly before him like whipped dogs.
Rin was astounded.
What had Riga done to them?
And if she brought him back down the mountain, what would he do to her?
Kill him, said the Phoenix. Kill him now.
Riga’s back was turned to her. She could end this in seconds; all it took was a quick hop, lunge, and stab. She clasped the hilt of her knife, rose to her feet as silently as she could, and dug her heels into the ground. She could call on the Phoenix, but sometimes steel was faster than fire—
