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I didn’t want to meet my sister. I wanted to talk to Mama. I reached to squeeze her fingers, wan and blue, but the midwife intercepted me and thrust my sister into my face.

Most newborns are ugly, but not my sister. Her black hair was long enough to touch her shoulders; it was smoother than glass, and softer than a young bird’s feathers. Her complexion was gold and bronze at the same time, with a kiss of pink on her plump, glowing cheeks and smiling lips.

Yet most enchanting of all was the light that emanated from her, brightest around her chest, as if a sliver of the sun were lodged inside her tiny heart.

“Isn’t she a beauty?” the midwife whispered. “Hundreds of babies I’ve delivered—you included, Channi. Out of them all, only your sister laughed when she came into this world. Look at her smile. I tell you, kings and queens will bow down to that smile one day.” She touched my sister’s chest, her palm covering that strange glow inside her. “And this heart! Never have I ever seen a heart like this. She’s been graced by the gods.”

“Vanna,” Mama whispered. Pride rippled in her voice. “We’ll call her Vanna.”

Golden.

I reached for my sister’s tiny hand. She was warm, and I could feel her little heart pitter-patter against my finger. For someone who’d been alive only a few minutes, she smelled sweet, like mung beans and honey. All I wanted to do was hold her close and press my nose against her soft cheeks.

“Enough,” said Adah sharply. “Channi, go back outside. Now.”

“But, Adah,” I said, feeling small, “the rain.”

“Get out.”

“Let her stay,” Mama said, biting back another scream. Clearly, the pain was returning. “Let her. I don’t have long.”

I didn’t understand what Mama meant then, or why Adah wiped his eyes with his arm. He folded onto his knees beside the bed and muttered prayer after prayer to the gods, promising to be a better husband if only Mama would live. The midwife tried to comfort him, but he jerked away.

Shadows fell over his face. “Give me the baby.”

His look frightened me more than Mama’s screams. I’d never felt much for my father; he was always working in the rice paddies while Mama took care of me. But he’d never been cruel. He loved my mother, and I thought he loved me too. This was the first time I’d heard him speak so sharply, with an edge that bit.

The midwife noticed too. “Khuan, let’s not be rash. I’ll take care of your wife. You go to the temple and pray.”

My father would not listen. He seized my sister, and alarm flared in Mama’s tired eyes.

“Khuan!” she rasped. “Stop.”

Against Adah’s wide, hulking frame, Vanna looked no bigger than a mouse. But my sister must have cast the same spell over my father that she had cast over me, for once he cradled her in his arms, she began to glow, brighter than before.

It was like magic, the way Adah softened. He stroked her hair, black as obsidian. He kissed her cheeks, pink like her lily-bud lips. He stared in awe at her skin, which shone gold like the sun.

Then his shoulders fell, and he gave her back to the midwife. “Feed her.”

Mama wheezed with relief. “Come, Channi. Mama will hold you.”

Before I could go to her, Adah snatched me up, hooking a strong arm around my waist. He threw me over his shoulder, so hard that I gasped instead of screamed.

In three long strides, we were out of the house, and quickly the midwife’s shouts faded behind us, consumed by the rain and thunder. He ran through the thick of the jungle.

I kicked and shouted, “Adah! Stop!”

Fear spiked in my heart. I did not know where he was taking me, and Mama wasn’t coming after us. The rain had grown stronger, and it battered my face with such force I thought I might drown from it. I beat at Adah’s back with my small fists, but this only irritated him. His grip tightened as he continued running.

In the jungle the rain weakened. All I could see were flashes of green and brown. I’d never been in the forests before, and for a moment I forgot to be afraid. Instead, I gazed in wonder at the trees with toothlike leaves, flowers large enough to swallow me whole, and vines that looked like snakes hanging from the sky. Gnats buzzed, mosquitoes bit Adah’s neck, and mud splashed under his sandals.

Suddenly, Adah fell back in surprise, almost crushing me. A magnificent red serpent hung from one of the trees, its long, forked tongue drawn out to hiss at us.

Adah propped himself up on his elbows, and I clung to his neck as the serpent bared its fangs.

“Let her go,” it said.

Adah did not seem to understand. He got up, grabbing me by the waist so tightly I let out a little gasp, and shuffled away from the creature.