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Adah blinks, as if the task is far too simple. “No more trays of mosquito hearts or bridges of gold and that nonsense?”

“Whoever can make me smile,” I repeat. “Will you agree to this?”

Adah’s elation shines through his eyes. “Yes, yes.”

I wouldn’t be so hopeful if I were you, I think as he runs off to tell Lintang the good news. The inklings of a plan are taking shape in my mind, and they will not be to my father’s liking.

* * *

Vanna’s room once brimmed with storybooks and maps, with hanging bouquets of dried flowers and incense that smelled like jasmine. All that is gone or shipped to Tai’yanan. Now there’s only a stack of unwashed tunics, and a pile of unwanted gifts that Adah plans to donate to the needy in our village. Among those presents is the sculpted crane from Emperor Hanriyu.

The humidity has made the milky paint on its feathers turn yellow, and darkened its crown to crimson, but it’s still an elegant bird. When I touch it, I could swear its wings lift. Like me, it wants to fly away from this place.

Why do you bother with gnats when you can easily swat them away? Ukar asks, slithering into the room. Why encourage them?

“Because I must leave Sundau.”

You could go to Yappang. Nakri’s asked you more than once to become her apprentice.

I shake my head. “Then the suitors would go to Yappang too. Their numbers will only grow. I won’t be a burden to her.”

Ukar knows it’s true. Right now, it’s kings who seek my hand. Soon, others will come. Demons, enchanters, perhaps even gods.

Why a selection, then? You could easily leave Tambu for any corner of the world you wish.

And I would. I would disappear into the deserts of Samaran or the backwaters of Balar. The last thing I want is to take part in a selection. But there’s only one place where the light in my heart might be forgotten, and where it might cease to haunt me. The problem is, its borders are magically sealed. I cannot go there—unless I am invited.

I turn to my friend. “What do you know of Kiata? The kingdom of the crimson crane.”

Kiata? Ukar’s tail flicks. That’s on the other side of this world.

“Not quite as far as that. There are no dragons there, no demons…no magic. There, the pearl’s power will be weakened, if not subdued completely.” I gather my breath. “I’ve considered this with great care, Ukar. It is the only place I can go.”

So you’ll ask Hanriyu, Ukar says. No offense to your allure, Channi, but he didn’t seem particularly interested the first time.

“He found the selection abhorrent,” I say softly. “That is a point in his favor. More than that, he lost the person dearest to him, as I did. We’ll understand each other.”

Ukar looks skeptical. Doesn’t he also have six daughters and a son? Or was it the other way around?

“I like children.”

Seven is too many.

I roll my eyes at him. “Your mother had seven.”

Like I said, it’s too many.

“I want to go to Kiata,” I say. I want to keep the world safe from me. “I’ll ask Rongyo to invite the emperor…as a mediator for the selection.”

And then? You’ll use the pearl to make him marry you?

“No,” I say sharply. “Never. I will leave with him only if we are suited to each other. If I do marry, it will be on my terms. And when I leave Tambu, it will not be to escape, but to have a new beginning.” I inhale sharply. “I’ll use the pearl to erase every trace of my name—and Vanna’s—across the whole of Lor’yan. What do you think, Your Majesty?”

Call me “Your Majesty” again and I’ll bite you.

It’s the closest I’ve come to smiling since Vanna died.

Are you sure this is what you want? asks my best friend. His eyes dilate as they scrutinize me. You’re a formidable sorceress. You could be greater than Lor’yan’s most famous enchanters. You don’t have to hide on some snow-ridden wasteland. You don’t have to marry.