Fifty-Seven: The Pact

“I—I’m your daughter, kind of, right?” Lilith hugged her chest like a sparrow shielding its warmth, trembling under the white god’s gaze. “I’m a married woman. Don’t you dare try anything.”

“What are you imagining!” Star Canvas tapped her on the head again, a knuckle like a pebble on a bell. “You look like a mochi-soft little sprout. Who knows what’s stewing in that head all day!”

“Uu… then what do I do?” Lilith cupped her sore head, voice thin as wind through reeds. “In stories, gods and demons like, you know, those ritual boys and girls. Either they get refined into pills, or get dragged off as toil.”

“You should stop reading that junk.” Star Canvas puffed her cheeks, her small white hand like a snow petal. She pinched Lilith’s ear and hoisted her up like a kitten. “I’m a proper divinity, with a legitimate seat in the heavens. I don’t just grab a kid and do chaos.”

“Wrong, wrong, sorry! My ear’s coming off!” Lilith’s little feet kicked like paddles in a stream. She shivered but didn’t dare jerk her head, afraid the god would twist her ear clean off.

“So what should I do?” Freed at last, the Little White Dragon curled on the ground like a rolled leaf. She covered her smarting ear and looked up, blue eyes glassed with dew. “Don’t just twist me and say nothing.”

It wasn’t that Lilith was delicate; a White Dragon’s slender, pointed ears are sacred as a moon-crest. Being twisted left her too sore to even hug her head.

“Let me think.” Star Canvas tapped her lip, then slapped her own forehead like thunder on a ridge. “You and Lamter’s… what’s-his-name, that Ser-something fellow, have been obsessed with star charts. I’ve put on new raiment. If you can draw my new clothes, I’ll tell you. Deal?”

“It’s Mr. Joseph Cernoser. And new clothes? But I only just reached the level where I can make out the anatomy…” Lilith’s eyes widened, worry fluttering like a moth by a lantern. When she left the Dragon Territory she could only see one giant eye in the sky. Now she could see far more stars, but a full figure still felt distant.

“No, no.” Star Canvas wagged a finger, formal as a priestess by a spring. “You can see my full figure now. We’ve met twice in your consciousness. My interference with your cognition has thinned, like fog lifting. I just won’t let you see my face, so your head doesn’t crack.”

“So if I try hard, I can paint how you look right now?” Light flared in Lilith’s sapphire eyes like dawn on ice. She tried to spring up, but her legs were numb from crouching and she faceplanted like a dove into snow.

“Ow.” She hit the floor with a smack, then groaned, dragging herself up with a stormcloud face.

“You little fool. You can trip on flat ground?” Star Canvas sighed, then helped her up like a steady branch. She clapped, summoning two chairs out of quiet starlight, and sat the White Dragon down. “What’s the rush?”

“I’m really excited!” Lilith beamed like a lantern at festival. “I became an Astrologer because I loved it. How could I not love the stars? Master Asterios said, to outline the Star Canvas in full is the sign of a Grand Astrologer. Even a face-less outer garment is glory enough!”

She was giddy like a kid who just ranked first in class. Her eyes shone, and her slender tail swished like grass in a breeze. If she weren’t still dreaming beside Star Canvas, she’d have leapt from bed to keep observing the sky.

“Whoa, hold it. It’s bright daylight outside. Where are you running?” Star Canvas reeled her back like a kite string. She pressed Lilith into the chair, voice heavy as a temple bell. “I don’t want to be rude, but your rapid progress in astrology is mostly because you met me, not because of effort alone. Don’t get carried away.”

“I see.” Lilith’s head drooped like a wilted sprout. The slump lasted a heartbeat. Then she made a fist at her chest, kindling courage like a coal. “It’s fine. I can still draw your new clothes.”

“If I draw everything, that’s, what, seven or eight more constellations?” she murmured, counting like beads. “I’ll render each section clean, then stitch them together. The whole star-body should come easy.” She didn’t want more chatting. The Little White Dragon just wanted to bolt up and draft a full plan to bring Mr. Joseph tonight.

“Slow down, little one. Even a dragon can’t work without night or day.” Star Canvas pressed a palm to her head, then tugged her soft cheeks until they stretched like mochi. Lilith’s face scrunched into a silly mask. She squirmed and failed, enduring the god’s identical little hands kneading her like dough.

“Hr-rru…” Lilith let out a strange croak, then finally gulped air when Star Canvas let go. “I’m healthy. Since I reincarnated, I’ve never been sick. A few late nights are nothing.”

“Stubborn mouth.” Star Canvas huffed, a winter wind across eaves. “Rest more. If you pull all-nighters and wreck your body, I’ll tell Tartarus to haul you back to the Dragon Territory and tie you up. You can give me two little granddaughters first!”

“I’ll be careful.” As expected, Lilith folded at once, like a sail before a gale. She agreed meekly to the god’s warning, then closed her eyes and slipped out of the dream.

“Sigh.” Star Canvas breathed out, a lone cloud over a quiet ridge. Who taught that girl to be such a handful?