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Shouldn’t you be with her, then? says Ukar. Instead of stirring up trouble in the jungle?

The lump in my throat hardens. “I’m more worried about Angma than some pompous, overdressed, over-feathered king.”

You mean, you’re not invited.

Curse Ukar for knowing me so well.

That’s never stopped you before. I tell you a thousand times not to hunt tigers, and you do it anyway.

Yes, but it’s different when I’m in the jungle. Ukar often forgets that. I never do.

“You think Angma will be early?” I ask quietly. “You think she’ll show up at the auction?”

No. The winds of Sundau have been free of her magic ever since my king passed. If she remembers to kill you, it will not be today.

“Oh, she’ll remember,” I mutter. I touch my cheek, recalling Angma’s promise to spare me and to lift the curse from my face if I give her my sister.

I’d rather gut myself with my own nails than betray Vanna, but I can’t help the deep yearning that knots itself in my chest.

Before Ukar senses it, I drop a small kiss on his head. “You’re still not coming?”

I’ll be there for you when you need me to fight Angma. But to watch your sister be paraded about like some prize to be won? I have no desire to witness such a spectacle.

Fair enough.

I start for Adah’s house, picking up my knees and running as fast as I can up the low, rolling hills, past the rice fields and cassava farms. The rush of blood to my head helps distract me from the apprehension that rises to my throat. No matter what Ukar says, I’m certain that the tiger was a warning sent by Angma. That the Demon Witch is back.

And she is waiting for me.

CHAPTER THREE

The Channi of the jungle and the Channi who lives in her adah’s house are two very different girls. One races barefoot in the jungle, a queen of the wild, content and free. The other sits on a broken stool, peeling taro root all day.

I sit on that broken stool now, surrounded by four walls. I’ve never liked walls, and I dislike the walls of Adah’s house most of all. They prevent me from seeing the sun. They bake the air and keep out the freshness after a rainstorm. They cage me in and hide me, like a mask on top of my mask, holding me in place so I cannot run away.

“Walls protect us from rain and heat and tigers,” Vanna said once, trying to comfort me. “Sometimes even from each other.”

I didn’t agree, but to keep her from worrying about me and Adah, I nodded.

Deep down I know that if not for Vanna, I’d have left Adah’s house long ago. Maybe I’d have sought out the dragons in the sea and gone to live in a palace of coral. Maybe I’d have found the Nine-Eyed Witch of Yappang and discovered some way to lift this curse from my face. Most likely I’d have gone to live with the snakes and become a true queen of the jungle.

Because of Vanna, I stayed. I haven’t forgotten my promise to Mama that I would protect her—from Angma or anyone who wishes her harm.

Even if she doesn’t want my protection.

Crows squawk across the sky, and koels make desperate mating calls from the trees. I peel off my tattered pants and wipe the jungle’s musk off my face.

My stepmother doesn’t come to find me, as she normally does when she wakes. Vanna doesn’t come to find me, either.

I crack eight eggs into a pan and fry them. Heat shoots up in my face, and I add a dash of cumin and ginger before sliding the eggs onto four separate plates.

Sticking my head out of the window, I shout, “Breakfast!”

No one pays me any heed, for a golden light is flashing from Vanna’s open window, and my sister’s delighted squeal rings across the compound.

“Lintang!” I hear her cry. “Thank you, thank you! It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. I love it.”

Frothy pink dresses and bracelets and hairpins—that’s what makes my sister’s light shine. We are so different that sometimes I cannot believe we are related.