Kiki fluttered from behind the lady’s robes, and if I could have leapt to my feet, I would have. She’d turned into a real bird, with feathers instead of paper wings, and round, unblinking eyes instead of the inked ones I’d made. Gold trimmed her wings, and a vibrant red crown painted her head. “She found her way to me,” explained Imurinya with a smile. Will you come? Kiki asked, cheeky as ever. You look awful. Come— come with us. I lingered. I wasn’t ready. “The other half of the year…I will spend it on the earth?” I asked. My voice was heady; I couldn’t tell whether I’d spoken the words aloud. “It is a compromise my brother and I have agreed upon,” said Imurinya. “So long as Bushi’an Takkan lives, so too will this agreement. When his time comes, you will join him in Lord Sharima’en’s realm.” I glanced at the lord of death, who gave an imperceptible nod. Then I looked at Takkan, wondering whether he could hear or see the immortals. He was still at my side, his eyes bleary and raw. “That sounds fair enough,” I agreed quietly. “When may I return?” “You will return each spring and summer.” “And I’ll be normal?” I asked, swallowing. “Human?” Imurinya chuckled. “Yes, yes. Human enough to bleed and heal, to age and grow in happiness and wisdom. Even to bear children—should you wish.” An intense flush heated my cheeks, but Imurinya must have read my mind, for that was exactly what I wished to know. “Could I return for the winter and the spring instead?” I asked, knowing it was uncouth to bargain with the gods but unable to help myself. “I should like to celebrate my birthday with my family and see the winter cranes. And Iro,” I added. “It’s most beautiful in the winter.” Imurinya disarmed me with her bright gaze, so intent that my heart skipped. I felt certain that I had erred, and that she and Lord Sharima’en would take away the compromise altogether. “Very well,” said Imurinya at last. “Winter and spring, it is decided. But for this first cycle, you must wait for spring. Winter approaches, and your body needs to heal.”
She lifted one of the rabbits at her feet, and divine light pooled around us, piercing into the mortal realm. Takkan drew a sharp breath; now he could see her. “The pledge is made,” Imurinya informed him. “Shiori’anma will rejoin the earth every winter and spring, spending half the year with you, and half with me. Come the first moonrise of spring, you will find her on Rabbit Mountain, Bushi’an Takkan.” Takkan blinked, the only sign of surprise he let slip at the sight of the great immortals. He wiped his eyes with his sleeve and bowed his head low. “I understand,” he said quietly. “Thank you, Lady Imurinya. I will be there.” “Now say your farewells,” said the lady of the moon. Piece by piece, my spirit reassembled within my body, a tingling sensation flooding every nerve. I lifted my head first, as a test. Then, as the rest of me awoke, I gave Takkan a dimpled grin. That was all it took to erase the sorrow from his face. His eyes went wide with wonder and relief. “Help me up,” I said, and Takkan’s hand was there in an instant, pulling me gently to my feet. I saw now that we were no longer alone. My brothers had come, and they hurried forward. “At least you won’t have to sew when you’re on the moon,” Yotan teased. “Or will you?” “I doubt the lady would want me ruining her tapestries,” I replied. “True, true.” I embraced the twins, then moved on to Reiji. Like me, he would be leaving Kiata soon. We hadn’t gotten along particularly well during our childhood, and I thought I’d be at a loss for words. Not today. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’ll miss you, Reiji.” “You shouldn’t,” he said mildly. “No one else will put cicada husks under your pillow…or dare you to steal snakes from Raikama’s garden. You’ll find yourself in a lot less trouble.” “So, at last you admit this whole thing was your fault?” He gave a lopsided grin. “We share equal blame.” I threw my arms around him, wishing I’d hugged him more when we were younger. “This isn’t goodbye forever,” I said into his ear. “I know
you’ll find a way to charm your paper princess into a visit when I’m back.” Then came Hasho, his wing folded at his side. “I’m glad you asked for winter. Your birthday wouldn’t be the same without you.” I hugged my youngest brother. He had always understood me best. “We’ll have a feast ready for you when you return, sister,” said Benkai. “A banquet with all the best dishes, and a sky full of lanterns.” I laughed. “I’m the one who’s supposed to cook for you all.” “You will.” Andahai winked. Had I ever seen him wink? “We’ll make a list of our favorite dishes.” I whirled to him, realizing. “I’ll be an aunt when I return.” “And hopefully I’ll have a new brother,” replied Andahai. He inclined a nod at Takkan. “Don’t forget, you still have a wedding to prepare for. Maybe the two of you should wed now, lest you get a notion to stay on the moon for good.” “I won’t.” I exchanged a shy smile with Takkan. “His heart is my home, and—” “—where you are is where I belong,” he said together with me. He looked down at our wrists, the red strands still visible, their ends knotted. “I’ll be waiting for you.” His words were all the music I needed to hear, and I blew a kiss as I followed Kiki and Lady Imurinya on a path of moonlight into the oldest legend I knew.
I stood on the brink of the moon, a sea of twilight welling beneath my feet, stars hanging above and below. Though my vantage point was a glorious one, tonight I felt no awe. Only eagerness. I’d waited six months for this. I wouldn’t waste a second. “I’m ready,” I whispered. A trail of silvery moonlight appeared, unspooling over the star-touched folds of heaven. Down and down it led, among fields of clouds soft as freshly fallen snow. I moved quickly, unable to match the pace of my racing heart. Or Kiki, whose new wings had made her remarkably swift. As she waited for me to catch up, she made a game of threading between the beams of light that shot after us. Hurry up, you snail! she cried. Spring will be over by the time you make it down to earth. I’ll never get my cakes. I hurried, smiling wistfully. Kiki adored being a real crane, and she never spoke of her papery past anymore. But sometimes, when she was frightened or lonely, she would still try to fly into my sleeve, forgetting that she was too big. That was how I knew she missed her original form, at least a little. Together we coasted down the moonlit path until a breeze shot forth, cutting through the stillness of the heavens. Imurinya had told us that the
sons of the wind guarded the divide between the immortal and mortal realms. This was where Kiki and I would part. Remember to bring back cakes, she said, making me promise for the hundredth time. The round rice ones with red bean paste. Mooncakes, too. Imurinya would like that. “I’ll remember,” I said, pressing a kiss on my little bird’s head. “Don’t cause any mischief for the lady when I’m away.” Kiki disappeared behind a curtain of moonlight, leaving me alone with the sun and clouds. I had come to the end of the path, but Imurinya hadn’t told me what to do from here. I bent down, my fingertips caressing a low cloud as it skimmed my ankles. Below, the sun illuminated the world, and I had the view of the gods. In the South, I spied Gen poring over a trove of books, the mirror of truth glimmering at his side. Then across the Taijin Sea, I caught a glimpse of Seryu racing a pod of whales. His horns had grown into a magnificent silvery crown, and his eyes glowed redder than the sun. The Dragon King’s heir, I remembered. I wondered how he had managed that. He must have sensed me watching, for he tipped his head up and looked straight at me—straight at the moon. For the barest moment, our gazes met, and Seryu gave me an enigmatic smile. Then, without missing a beat, he dove back into the sea, roaring past the whales who’d only just caught up with him. I clapped, letting out a laugh and watching them disappear beyond the horizon. Then, directly below my feet, the clouds shifted to reveal a familiar two-peaked mountain. I almost didn’t recognize it without its usual dusting of snow, but suddenly my heart was beating so fast I could hardly breathe. And suddenly I knew what to do. I leapt. I don’t know if I fell or flew. The clouds obscured my view, and the world rushed up in a whorl of stars and light. But then I landed, my back sinking into the soft contours of earth, and when I felt the sun upon my cheeks, I opened my eyes. I was lying on grass. Cold, wet grass that pricked my elbows and knees. Shallow pools of mud flanked me, and silvery veins of frost laced the field. A cloak fell over my shoulders an instant before I was going to shiver.
“Careful of the mud, moon maid,” Takkan said softly, kneeling beside me. “It’s near frozen. Won’t be fun to fall in.” He lifted me safely from where I lay, enveloping me in his warmth, and I touched my forehead to his. My voice came out husky, a mix of joy and disbelief. “Your first words to me are of mud?” Takkan grinned. “I thought the warning more urgent than a welcoming serenade.” “Consider me warned. Now sing.” “Now? You’ll laugh.” “I’d never laugh at you, Bushi’an Takkan.” I said it as solemnly as I could, but my eyes were dancing and Takkan knew me. “Liar.” As punishment, he hiked me higher in his arms. I squealed with surprise and delight as he spun me around and around, his boots sloshing into the mud. We laughed until our stomachs hurt, the sound of our happiness harmonizing in a song that made my heart feel as full as the pale sun behind the clouds. When at last he set me down, both of us were so dizzy we stumbled over each other. He caught me by the waist and kissed me. It was a kiss worth waiting for—whether half a year or half a lifetime— a kiss that made my breath catch and my stomach swoop, and the frost that coated my nose and eyelashes melt with delicious warmth. I ran my fingers through his hair and pulled him close, tickling his nose with mine and watching our breaths steam into the air. I licked my lips, tasting sugar. “Cakes?” “Chiruan made them for you,” confessed Takkan with a sheepish grin. “I tested a few to make sure they were acceptable. Do you want one?” Cakes over flowers, I’d told him. As my heart squeezed with warmth, the tiniest buds flowered under my feet. Only a thread of magic was left inside me, but Kiata…Kiata bloomed with it. The way it felt to me was like a layer of love tucked deep inside one’s belly. Warmth, even when it was cold. Joy, even when there was sadness. The flowers under my feet blossomed and grew. “Later,” I replied, finally answering Takkan’s question. I wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned back against him, feeling his breath stir
my hair. “We only have a few minutes till sundown.” I could have stayed in his arms all day, content with my view of the rice fields below, the Baiyun River curving down Rabbit Mountain into the grassy knolls surrounding Iro, the gray-tiled castle in the near distance. But the day was fading, the gilded earth turning silvery with young moonlight. Not to mention, we weren’t actually alone. A high-pitched giggle gave away the intruder, and I whirled to glance over Takkan’s shoulder. “Megari!” I squealed. “Takkan told me to give you a song’s worth of time alone,” said Megari, setting down an unlit lantern. In the year I’d been away, she’d lost some of the youthful roundness to her cheeks, but a familiar glint of mischief sparkled in her eyes. “I chose a short song.” I scooped her into a hug, spinning her once before setting her down. I marveled at her. She was nearly to my shoulder now, and she no longer wore her hair in pigtails but loose against her back. “Don’t comment on how much I’ve grown, and I won’t comment on your hair,” Megari warned before I could get a word in. “You’re going to get lots of remarks on it. Trust me. Father and Takkan wouldn’t stop staring at me when they got home. As if they’d been away for years, not months!” “My sister is beginning to prefer the company of rabbits to humans,” joked Takkan. A pair of fluffy beasts gamboled over my feet, one brown-spotted rabbit even daring to nibble on my slippers. I knelt to stroke its velvety fur. “They’re usually afraid of strangers,” mused Megari. “But not you.” “There are many rabbits on the moon,” I replied, letting the creature go. I watched it caper off into the tall grass. I could feel Megari burning with questions for me, but Takkan touched his sister’s shoulder, as if reminding her of some unspoken agreement. With a sigh, she picked up her lantern, swinging it as she sauntered toward the base of the hill, where they had tethered the horses. “Enjoy this time alone. Once you reach home, Mama’s not going to give you two a moment’s rest.” “Careful riding home!” Takkan called after Megari. “It’s getting dark!” Megari waved to show she’d heard, then once more in farewell. I waved back, watching her recede into Iro. Then my eyes drifted up to the sky, where the fading sun was changing places with a rising moon. A sea of
stars glimmered through the gauzy dusk, the seven-pointed crane already brighter than the rest. “They’ve renamed it,” said Takkan, sensing what had caught my attention, “after a new legend.” “What legend?” “It’s a legend of cranes and demons and dragons—and a princess under a terrible curse. The children are riveted.” He silenced whatever I was going to say by taking my hand and pressing a kiss to my palm. “It’s a decent story, but long. I’ll tell you later. Tonight, we have guests.” “Guests on the same day as my long-awaited arrival? Who could be so important?” He knew I was frothing with anticipation. “Did I tell you we have a little demon in the kitchen now? It came a few weeks ago, and it’s burrowed itself into the stove. It burns the rice and makes the fire go out when it’s in a temper. The cooks are nettled, but Megari likes it. I think it’s growing on Chiruan, too.” I put my hands on my hips. Demons could wait. “Who’s the guest?” “Guests.” Takkan paused deliberately, enjoying my impatience. “It’s your brothers.” My brothers? A huge smile sprang to my face. “They’ve come?” “All six of them,” Takkan confirmed. “Even Reiji, from A’landi. And… your father.” At that, both my eyebrows rose. Takkan laughed. “That was my reaction too. You can imagine my mother’s distress when she got word of his visit. She’s spent the last week trying to get the household in perfect order. And she still hasn’t quite gotten over the fact that she hosted you an entire winter without knowing your true identity.” “Does that mean she won’t let me back in the kitchen?” “Probably not. For at least a year, I’d say.” “A year?” I lamented. I missed cooking, and from the way my stomach growled right then, I missed eating too. “Well, I have six brothers for a reason. Let’s hope she’ll be more preoccupied with them than me.” “I doubt it. She does have her son’s wedding to prepare for.”
I blushed, tongue-tied for once. Then I said, “Megari was right, wasn’t she? It’s going to be pandemonium when I get back. Everyone will be staring and asking questions….” “We can be a little late…,” said Takkan. A little late? “Did I hear correctly? My honorable, upstanding betrothed suggests we arrive late to dinner?” I pretended to gasp in horror. “With the emperor, no less.” A smile tugged at Takkan’s lips. “For you, I’m willing to bend a few rules.” I couldn’t help it. I leapt up—but Takkan was already there. His lips found mine and we locked together, his hands holding me by the small of my back, as I wrapped my arms around his neck and raked my fingers through his hair. We kissed and kissed, staggering until we fell back against a tree, and laughed and shrieked as snow tumbled off the branches onto our heads. I’d never know how long we spent holding each other against the tree, rabbits watching us curiously. All too soon, the dusk aged and night fell upon us. It was time to go back. “We should get going,” Takkan said, dusting snowflakes from my nose before he led me away from the tree. He didn’t let go of my hand as he knelt, retrieving the two lanterns he’d brought. A blue one for himself and a red one for me, tied together by a simple red thread. “So I don’t lose you in the dark,” he explained when I traced the thread with my fingers. “You’ll never lose me, Bushi’an Takkan,” I replied. “Be it bright or dark, you are the light that makes my lantern shine.” Under the shining moon, we made our way home, our hearts beaming, and the light in our lanterns as radiant as the stars.
Wow—six books in! I’m ever grateful to Gina, my agent, who’s had faith in me from the very start. And to Katherine, my editor, for your serious hawkeye when it comes to making my books the best they can be. And for being the greatest champion of my stories I could ask for. To Lili, my publicist, for your dedication to ushering my stories into readers’ hands and for being amazing to work with. To Gianna, Melanie, Alison, Elizabeth, Kelly, Dominique, John, Artie, Natali, Caitlin, Jake, and the wonderful team at Knopf Books for Young Readers for your support on The Dragon’s Promise. Thank you for helping me bring my stories to life, and into the hands of my readers. To Tran, for those dragons! This cover is perfection, and as always, I am obsessed. To Alix, for making the title sing. It’s gorgeous. To Virginia, for Kiata’s breathtaking map, and bringing visual life to my worlds. To my team in the UK: Molly, Natasha, Kate, and Lydia, thank you for welcoming me to the Hodderscape family, and to Kelly Chong for the prettiest covers in all their pastel glory. To Anissa, again for your friendship—and for your webtoon and romance recommendations! To my amazing beta readers—all of whom also happen to be dear friends: Leslie and Doug, Amaris, Diana, and Eva. I treasure you. To Pasang, I couldn’t have written this book without your help. Thank you. To my grandmother, for inspiring so much of my stories. Readers have you to thank, especially when it comes to the food. To my parents and Victoria, for your love, endless support, and opinions (and offers to babysit).
To Adrian and my daughters, for being my lights. Adrian, I could write a book about what to thank you for, but to keep it short, thank you for the surprise doodles you make on my manuscripts. They always make me laugh. And thank you for the hugs and encouragement I need when things feel down, and for being the first person I want to celebrate with when things are looking up. Love you. Charlotte and Olivia, for being my joys and loves and for being so curious about why I’m always on my computer during the day. Don’t grow up too fast. Lastly, to my readers. Thank you for continuing this journey with me. I hope there will be many more to come!
ADRIAN OW ELIZABETH LIM grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, where she was raised on a hearty diet of fairy tales, myths, and songs. Before becoming an author, Elizabeth was a professional film and video game composer, and she still tends to come up with her best book ideas when writing near a piano. An alumna of Harvard College and the Juilliard School, she now lives in New York City with her husband and her two daughters. Elizabeth's internationally bestselling novels include Spin the Dawn, Unravel the Dusk, and Six Crimson Cranes. She is also a contributor to Disney's A Twisted Tale series. elizabethlim.com
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Cover for The Dragon's Promise
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