from the only life she ever knew, never again to see her mistress and first love. Forced to travel through all the realms with an enigmatic immortal until he tired of her … the bird truly was singing the song of her heart.
“How do you know it isn’t a song of your heart?” she asked quietly.
“I do not feel deeply enough for the bird to sing with such fervor.” He came and stood near her. “I am sorry that you are sad.”
“But not enough to give me my freedom.”
Stone slanted a glance toward her, and her heart jumped when their eyes met. She hated that she was still so drawn to him. “And where would you go? Back to your mistress as a humble handmaid?” He caught her arm and pulled lightly so that they faced each other. As always, she felt the heat of his touch, even though he grasped her silk sleeve. “Who would you be?’
Her lips parted, but she had no inkling what she would say. Without warning, the gold walls began to tremble, then shudder violently. She had felt earthquakes before—minor ones which left her unsteady on her feet and a strong one that had jolted all the jars from Zhen Ni’s vanity—but she had never experienced anything like this. The walls vibrated and rippled in turn, knocking her from her feet. She gawked at the walls in horror, as the gold seemed to have liquefied, streaking in shimmering ropes.
The songbird sang in strident tones, more like screams of distress than a melody. It hopped from one dark branch to the next, the lavender feathers around its throat ruffled so that it appeared bigger. Then it spread its wings, beating them in time to its fearful cries. Somehow, this was the most terrifying thing of all, as if its song could worm its way into her heart.
Stone stood firm on his feet, towering over her. The water in the river was bubbling until large drops leaped into the air, as if its temperature had been brought to a boil.
Skybright cowered with her hands covering her head, the thudding of walls seizing her own heartbeat, so strong she could feel it in her teeth. She feared the ceiling would cave and bury her beneath. “What is happening?” she shouted at Stone.
He didn’t spare her a glance but instead stared straight ahead toward the far end of the long hall.
A goddess shimmered into view. There was no mistaking her divinity. First appearing to be twice as tall as any mortal, the goddess’s form wavered as if she stood behind a waterfall, then became the same height as Stone—still taller than any mortal woman Skybright had ever encountered. She couldn’t help but stare at the goddess’s face in rapture: flawless and beautiful, her features emanated serenity. Yet there was a cold aloofness there, the feeling that although the goddess might seem mortal in her appearance, she was as human as an ancient pine or immoveable boulder, as human as the moon.
She had thought that she wanted to throw herself at Stone’s feet when she first met him, to revere him. How little she knew then. Without any control or thought, Skybright knocked her forehead against the cold floor thrice, overtaken by uncontrollable shaking. Still, after, she could not cast her eyes away from the goddess’s face. She knew her mouth hung open, but she didn’t have the mind to close it.
The goddess was attired in a dress that flowed over her like water, the colors subtle and ever changing, as varied as the stones that rested in the stream nearby. Her ebony hair was pinned to her head with two thick loops woven with rubies and emeralds. The stones winked like eyes in the goddess’s thick locks. She inclined her head toward Stone.
He dropped to his knees, bowing his head in acquiescence. “Greetings, Goddess of Accord,” he murmured. Skybright almost gasped aloud. She had never seen Stone make himself servile to anyone.
“You are late,” the goddess said. Her voice was clear and crisp, reminding Skybright of cool autumn mornings. It rang clearly through the entire hall. The bird
“How do you know it isn’t a song of your heart?” she asked quietly.
“I do not feel deeply enough for the bird to sing with such fervor.” He came and stood near her. “I am sorry that you are sad.”
“But not enough to give me my freedom.”
Stone slanted a glance toward her, and her heart jumped when their eyes met. She hated that she was still so drawn to him. “And where would you go? Back to your mistress as a humble handmaid?” He caught her arm and pulled lightly so that they faced each other. As always, she felt the heat of his touch, even though he grasped her silk sleeve. “Who would you be?’
Her lips parted, but she had no inkling what she would say. Without warning, the gold walls began to tremble, then shudder violently. She had felt earthquakes before—minor ones which left her unsteady on her feet and a strong one that had jolted all the jars from Zhen Ni’s vanity—but she had never experienced anything like this. The walls vibrated and rippled in turn, knocking her from her feet. She gawked at the walls in horror, as the gold seemed to have liquefied, streaking in shimmering ropes.
The songbird sang in strident tones, more like screams of distress than a melody. It hopped from one dark branch to the next, the lavender feathers around its throat ruffled so that it appeared bigger. Then it spread its wings, beating them in time to its fearful cries. Somehow, this was the most terrifying thing of all, as if its song could worm its way into her heart.
Stone stood firm on his feet, towering over her. The water in the river was bubbling until large drops leaped into the air, as if its temperature had been brought to a boil.
Skybright cowered with her hands covering her head, the thudding of walls seizing her own heartbeat, so strong she could feel it in her teeth. She feared the ceiling would cave and bury her beneath. “What is happening?” she shouted at Stone.
He didn’t spare her a glance but instead stared straight ahead toward the far end of the long hall.
A goddess shimmered into view. There was no mistaking her divinity. First appearing to be twice as tall as any mortal, the goddess’s form wavered as if she stood behind a waterfall, then became the same height as Stone—still taller than any mortal woman Skybright had ever encountered. She couldn’t help but stare at the goddess’s face in rapture: flawless and beautiful, her features emanated serenity. Yet there was a cold aloofness there, the feeling that although the goddess might seem mortal in her appearance, she was as human as an ancient pine or immoveable boulder, as human as the moon.
She had thought that she wanted to throw herself at Stone’s feet when she first met him, to revere him. How little she knew then. Without any control or thought, Skybright knocked her forehead against the cold floor thrice, overtaken by uncontrollable shaking. Still, after, she could not cast her eyes away from the goddess’s face. She knew her mouth hung open, but she didn’t have the mind to close it.
The goddess was attired in a dress that flowed over her like water, the colors subtle and ever changing, as varied as the stones that rested in the stream nearby. Her ebony hair was pinned to her head with two thick loops woven with rubies and emeralds. The stones winked like eyes in the goddess’s thick locks. She inclined her head toward Stone.
He dropped to his knees, bowing his head in acquiescence. “Greetings, Goddess of Accord,” he murmured. Skybright almost gasped aloud. She had never seen Stone make himself servile to anyone.
“You are late,” the goddess said. Her voice was clear and crisp, reminding Skybright of cool autumn mornings. It rang clearly through the entire hall. The bird
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