Diyiren enjoyed soft, melodious music, preferably played on a guqin or flute, but this was a loud, thumping noise. The bards roared over the crowd and danced about. Nianzang couldn't get enough of it. He jumped over guests and clapped his hands in time. The bards had siren blood and most of the guests were intoxicated by the rhythm. Diyiren folded his arms and pursed his lips, but didn't comment on the insanity around him.
Near midnight, Nianzang coughed. Blood was in the spittle. Diyiren tore across the room to touch his son's forehead. Nianzang sprayed blood on his father's black and red robes. BoBo took one whiff and met Diyiren's snarl. If Diyiren didn't know better, he would have suspected BoBo was sincerely concerned.
Diyiren scooped up his son.
BoBo barked, "Collect all the food."
He ordered Sutekh to take everyone at the banquet to the dungeon. Hours dragged on, Nianzang on his side, tears sliding from his eyes, blood seeping from his lips and nose. Near dawn, Nianzang dozed. Diyiren was half-mad with grief. The other half was insane with exhaustion.
Dear Aoibh,
Nianzang needs you.
Diyiren could think of nothing else to say, so he closed with:
Please come immediately.
YOU ARE READING
The Lamb and the Gray Battle
FantasyEvie has spent the last 575 years on the North American continent, now called America, the Pure and Clean. She smiles, volunteers and makes cakes and pastries for her neighbors, hiding away her demon blood. She wants nothing to do with her estranged...
