The lid tumbled to the ground, and Quion stood there, hands planted against the rim, his eyes wide with shock. She smelled his astonishment, which had the scent of rosemary, mingled with the fish.
“You’re . . . you’re alive again!” he gasped. “Your hair. It’s white again.”
Bingmei tried to sit up and felt the weakness overpower her again. She hadn’t eaten in days. Well, her body hadn’t. She slumped back down, catching herself on her elbow. Quion was right, the hair she saw against her shoulder was white once more.
“Bingmei,” Quion whispered in awe. “I thought . . . I had a feeling you might wake up. Your body still felt so warm. I knew it might take a long time, maybe even a hundred years, but I hoped not.”
“Why did you stay, then?” she asked, feeling so grateful not to be alone.
“When I looked at you,” he said. “It felt like you were just sleeping. I don’t know . . . I just couldn’t leave you.” He stared at her with relief in his eyes. “It felt wrong to go.”
“Help me up,” she said, extending her hand to him.
He gripped it and helped pull her up to a sitting position. The dizziness grew worse. She tried to leverage herself to her feet, but the dizziness made her want to vomit. Instead, she rested a few moments, trying to gather her strength. She wondered what it felt like for Echion when he reclaimed his corpse after a long sleep.
Noticing her failed attempt to rise, Quion scooped her up in his arms and lifted her out. She felt she was as light as a bird herself, that even her bones had been hollowed out.
“Are you thirsty? What can I get for you?” he asked.
A drink sounded heavenly. And so did some food, so she asked for both. He left her propped against the edge of the empty sarcophagus. She gripped the rim with her fingers, trying to steady herself, as she took in how the shrine had changed. Quion had spread out his bedroll there next to the sarcophagus and set up a little camp as he had in the woods outside Sihui. He had a little pot suspended over black stubs of charcoal, and both of their packs were nestled in the corner. He went to his and withdrew some strips of meat and his flask of water.
As he fetched those things, she remembered the glyph she’d felt on her way back to the shrine, but she could no longer feel it. During Echion’s attack at the shrine, she remembered that Rowen had drawn a glyph on the edge of the sarcophagus where she lay dead, as she had done at the dragon’s tomb. What had he drawn, and why?
She thought the phoenix might answer her silent query, but nothing came.
Will you tell me what Rowen did? What glyph did he draw?
She felt the feathery brush of thoughts in her mind. Rowen drew the reviving glyph on the wall of the sarcophagus. Similar to the one you drew on Echion and Xisi’s tombs. He added a time rune as well, one that would delay the action.
Bingmei nodded to herself. How did he learn it?
The same way you knew how to draw it. He’s been more . . . pliable than you.
Quion returned with the food and water, and Bingmei ate hungrily from the strips of dried meat, enjoying the taste. As she chewed, the sadness she’d felt in the sarcophagus weighed on her again. The thought of so many dying was unbearable to her.
She saw Quion’s look of concern. He nibbled some meat himself. Then he said, “Why are you sad?”
Of all the questions he could have asked. It made her smile.
“I’ve not been sleeping, Quion,” she said, looking at him. “I’ve had a journey so strange and unexpected I hardly know how to describe it. But I will try.” She did that, trying to relate her experiences as best she could. How she had met Prince Juexin after dying and experienced the glory and splendor of the real Fusang. She described meeting the phoenix and her phoenix-sisters. Now that she was back in the mortal world, she could still feel the wings on her back. They weren’t physical, but she sensed their power and knew that she could fly. She summarized the experience of using the time glyph and going to the future—and revealed to him that she was pregnant and Rowen was the child’s father from a time when they were married. He nodded solemnly as she spoke, gazing at her intently. Then she described the way she’d left her body behind in the crypt to travel from bird to bird, to visit different kingdoms.
“So that little siskin wasn’t just a bird, then!” Quion said with eagerness. “It was a messenger from the phoenix!”
He is wise, said the phoenix in her mind.
She smiled at him. “You’re right. I could only be where the birds were. Xisi and Echion have no idea that I can spy on them through the birds in their cages. I went to Sihui too, and it took a lot of coaxing to get a little thrush to fly where I wanted it to go. But I was able to overhear the rulers of the unconquered kingdoms. They are combining their forces under the command of General Tzu and will attack Echion’s palace. What they don’t realize is that Echion is hoping they’ll come. He has a spy in the Eagle Palace. He’ll use his dragons to slaughter them all.”
Quion’s look turned instantly aggrieved, and she smelled it too. “How can we warn them?”
“I don’t think that we can.”
“Surely we must try, Bingmei!”
“I was told that I cannot leave this rock until after the child is born. It is the only place in the world where I’ll be safe. The dragons are still hunting us, but this place will protect us. I saw it repel Echion.”
“I will go,” Quion said. “I have your little cricket now. That’s how I’ve
