The Burning God (The Poppy War #3) - R.F. Kuang Page 0,143

elegantly over his shoulders. Rin felt dizzy as her eyes traced his noble sleeping features. She felt as if she were staring down at Nezha’s corpse.

“Let’s not draw this out,” Daji said. “Ziya?”

Jiang moved fast. Before Rin could blink, he’d dropped the fawn onto the stone tiles and wedged a blade into its neck.

The fawn’s mouth worked furiously, but no scream came out, only agonized gurgles and an astonishing tide of blood.

“Quickly now, before he’s gone.” Daji pulled Rin out of the way as Jiang dragged the fawn’s writhing form against the base of the altar.

The fawn’s choking went on for a torturously long time. Finally, its struggling dwindled to minute shudders as its blood seeped across the floor, running in straight, clean rivulets where the stone tiles met. All the while Daji knelt over it, one hand pressed against its flank, murmuring something under her breath.

A crackling noise filled the cave, a long, unceasing roll of thunder that grew louder and louder until it seemed the pagoda was about to explode. Rin felt power in the air. Too much power—it cloyed in her throat, choking her. She crouched back against the wall, suddenly terrified.

Daji spoke faster and faster, unintelligible words tumbling eagerly from her lips.

Jiang was utterly still. His face twisted in some strange and unfamiliar grimace; Rin couldn’t tell if he was horrified or ecstatic.

Then shone a burst of white light, followed by a noise like a thunderclap. Rin didn’t realize she’d been thrown off her feet until she felt her back slam against the far wall.

Stars exploded behind her eyelids. The pain was excruciating. She wanted to curl up into a ball and rock back and forth until it stopped, but fear dominated; fear made her crawl to her knees, coughing, squinting as she waited for her vision to return.

Jiang stood with his back against the opposite wall, unmoving, his expression blank. Daji was collapsed against the base of the altar. A thin trail of blood ran out from between her lips. Rin stumbled forth to help her up, but Daji shook her head and pointed to the altar, where, for the first time in over twenty years, Yin Riga rose.

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