“I suppose,” Jia mumbled.
A sick feeling gnawed at Russell’s gut, and he twisted his hand around a clump of red silk. What the hell had he expected? She was a princess after all. And to think he’d come so close to taking her with him into danger.
“Open it,” Rajiv urged.
There was a creaking sound of a lid being lifted, followed by Jia’s gasp.
Rajiv whistled. “That’s got to be worth a fortune. And you know what? It would look perfect with the bracelets from your mom. Let’s see.” A chest opened.
“It’s late,” Jia protested.
“Come on, I want to see you look like a princess.” There was a pause and some rustling sounds, then Rajiv said, “I wish Grandfather could see you now. I wish he could see the wedding.”
“I know.” Jia sighed. “I miss him, too.”
“You should probably make your wedding gown from all that red and gold silk they sent you yesterday,” Rajiv said. “I have a feeling that’s why they sent it.”
Russell scoffed silently as he tossed the material away. She had used an engagement present for her escape?
“I’ll let you get back to sleep now,” Rajiv said, and his footsteps crossed to the door. “See you tomorrow.”
The door shut, then Jia’s steps rushed to the door and she slid the bolt.
Russell eased to his feet and opened the screen a few feet. When Jia turned to face him, his heart stilled for a moment. Even in her plain clothes, she looked every bit a princess. The moonlight shone around her, gleaming off thick, raven-black hair, smooth, flawless skin, and large, golden cat eyes. A long necklace of gold and jade encircled her neck, and a jade pendant of a tiger nestled between her breasts. More gold and jade decorated the cufflike bracelets around her wrists.
He leaned back against the wall as his heart slumped.
She stepped toward him. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, but it doesn’t change anything.”
“You think not?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re engaged. To a Grand Tiger. A wealthy one.”
“No. Not at all.” She took the necklace off and dropped it back into its box. “His son. The prince.”
Of course. No grasping old geezer for Jia. She was going to have the dashing young prince. A sliver of anger sliced at his gut.
“I haven’t agreed to it.” She shut the box.
“You’re accepting the gifts.”
She gave him an annoyed look. “He’s coming to meet me in two weeks. If I don’t like him, I’ll return the gifts and tell him to get lost.”
“You’ve never met him before?”
“No. I didn’t even know about the engagement till yesterday. Grandfather arranged it when I was ten. I’m only going along with it for now out of respect for my grandfather.”
Russell shifted his weight. “So if you like the guy, you’re going to . . . go through with it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is I need to find Han and kill him before the prince arrives. I have thirteen days now.”
Russell snorted. So she expected him to help her, then deliver her back here in time for her wedding. “You have no business out in the jungle fighting Han’s soldiers.”
Her eyes simmered with anger as she ripped the bracelets off her wrists. “Do you see these? They’re all I have left of my parents. I will see my family avenged. Whether you help me or not.”
“Not.”
“Wait.” She dropped the bracelets into an open trunk, then dashed toward him. “Pay no attention to my anger. It makes me say foolish things. I know very well that you are my best chance at succeeding. Please.” She grabbed his T-shirt in her fists. “Take me with you.”
He slowly pried her hands loose. “You’re a princess. A betrothed princess. I can’t put you in danger.”
“If you don’t help me, I’ll have to do it on my own, and that would be even more dangerous.”
He winced inwardly. That much was true. He gently squeezed her hands. “Stay here. You have family and a future. Enjoy your life. I’ll take care of Han, and when I’m done, I’ll bring his golden mask to you and lay it at your feet.”
She looked up at him, her eyes glistening with tears. “I know you would. I believe you, but . . . I need more.”
“I’m sorry.” He released her and teleported away.
Chapter Five
I am Xiao Fang. One of the last of my kind. Centuries ago, there were many of us. We roamed the earth. We ruled the skies. Men feared us.
Now I fear man.
Three months ago, I breathed fire for the first time. Soon I will shift for the first time. I wish I had my wings now so I could escape. And fly home.
With a black pen, I slowly draw a Chinese word on a sheet of white paper. The man with the golden mask has given me several black markers and reams of paper. He has given me children’s books with pictures and words. Each day, I am to learn how to write a new word, he says, so we will be able to communicate.
As a dragon shifter, I cannot speak. My throat is designed for fire, not words. The women who raised me in Beyul-La spoke Tibetan and Chinese, so I understand those languages. They taught me how to write a few words. Two of them had the gift of communicating with winged creatures, so they could read my thoughts, as I could read theirs. Queen Nima and Winifred. They were like mother and sister to me. And then there was Norjee, the mortal boy who could talk to me in my mind. I called him my brother.
I finish writing the word, then set it next to the other papers I have written. They all say the same thing.
Home.
I pace about the small room. We are in a new place now, completely underground. Last night, someone tried to kill the man with the golden mask—Master Han, he calls himself. He teleported me here, where he claims we will be safe. He will protect me from the evil vampires and shifters. I should trust him, he says. He will let no harm come to me, for I am special.
I am a prisoner. I have all the food I could want. I have clothes and a warm bed. But the door is always locked. When I am allowed to wander about the camp, I am closely guarded.
Some of the guards take pity on me. During the day, when Han is not awake and watching, they bring me freshly baked bread. One officer named Wu Shen gave me a roll of tape, so I started taping my written pages on a wall in my small room. I have four rows now that stretch across the wall. With nothing else to do, I start a fifth row. Soon the wall will be completely covered with the same word.
Home.
I have been to many different camps in the last two months. The guards are always the same. They wonder why Master Han wears a mask. During the day, when Han locks himself up for his death-sleep, it is safe for them to speculate. Some say he wears the mask to hide a hideously disfigured face. Disease or fire, they say, and it must have happened before he became a vampire. Some claim he is simply ugly as a reflection of his evil soul. Others argue that cannot be, for no one is more evil than the demon Darafer, and he is fair of face.
I believe Master Han wears the mask to hide his many faces. There is the face he adopts for me. Kind, caring, gently spoken. He wishes to keep me safe. He will take care of me. His words are always warm, but his eyes are cold. I am unsure whether to trust him.
There is the face he uses when he addresses his army. He is fearless, masterful, in charge. When I see it, I believe he is strong. I am tempted to trust him.
Then there is the face that reacts whenever there is trouble from the evil vampires and shifters. He claims they are persecuting him for no reason. They want him dead. He doubles the guard and goes into hiding. When I see this, I believe he is weak. I know not to trust him.
When his soldiers are defeated, he screams in rage and his men cower, for he will seize a man and take him into his private room for feeding. We can hear the man scream before he grows quiet. Then Han returns with the dead body, ripped to shreds and sucked dry. When I see this face, I fear him.
I complete the fifth row of papers taped to the wall just as I hear the lock being turned. I have no windows in this underground lair, but I sense it is nighttime. Han visits me every night, so I step away from the wall and steel my nerves.
The door opens. He stands in the doorway, and the candlelight in my room makes his golden mask gleam. He enters, and the guards close the door.
His cold eyes inspect me while he speaks softly, his voice laced with kindness. “How are you today, son? Did you sleep well? Do you have enough to eat?”