Li’lian Mistwater's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Li'lian woke to gray light and the tiger's slow breathing at her back. The foxes still watched her, four pairs of bright eyes ringed around a low stone basin she had not seen in the dark. Ash lay in the basin. Dried petals lay beside it. She understood then that this was no ruin. It was a shrine, still tended by something, and she had slept on its floor without leave. She sat up carefully. The tiger's eye opened. The red runes along its stripes brightened once, then dimmed, like a warning given only once. The foxes did not move. Li'lian knew the shape of a house that expected payment. She had eaten her mother's bread at strange tables before. You gave thanks, or you were asked to leave. She did not know the words. She did not know the god. She had no incense, no rice, no coin. Guessing wrong felt worse than saying nothing. If she offended whatever lived here, the tiger would rise, or the door would open on the storm, and she would not survive either. She took what she had. She unclasped the fox pendant from her throat. Her mother's charm was spent and cold, but it was the only thing on her that had been given in love. She set it in the stone basin, on top of the ash. She knelt. She pressed her forehead to the floor the way her mother pressed hers at the hearth on the longest night. "I don't know your name," she said. "I took your warmth without asking. This was my mother's. It is what I have." The air changed. The flowers along the sills brightened, pink and gold and blue, and the runes on the archway lit in answer. A man stood inside the doorway who had not been there a breath before. White hair fell past his shoulders. His robe was deep blue, stitched with gold. His eyes were the eyes she had followed into this valley — the immortal lord of the north peak, the reason she had left her mother's house. Her breath stopped. She stayed on her knees. He crossed to the basin and looked down at the pendant. He did not smile. He did not frown. "You offered the right thing," he said. His voice was quiet. "You did not know that. The shrine did." He lifted the charm. Under his fingers it warmed again, a small ember waking. He set it back around her neck himself. His hand was cool. The clasp closed. "You may stay," he said. "But the debt is mine now, not the shrine's. You will come with me to the north peak when the storm breaks." The tiger stood. The foxes rose with it. Outside, the wind was already thinning. Li'lian had wanted to be brought to him. She had not thought he would be the one to bring her.