Page 22

The temperature of the assembly has changed. Breathless anticipation has now turned into a feverish frenzy, and the kings converge on the wooden steps leading up to the temple.

One after another, they saunter up to Vanna, and their servants leave gifts: barrels of wine, platters of gemstones and jade disks, spices worth their weight in silver, satin and brocade and silks in the most expensive, dazzling colors.

Vanna receives each presentation with grace. To everyone, she is the picture of serenity, but I know better. For all the gifts of her beauty, it brings torment as well. Her entire life, she has been guarded, with little freedom except the hours we steal together. Today, especially, she must feel the pressure. Each time someone approaches, inspecting her as though she were a ship or a sculpture rather than a living, breathing girl—there’s a snag in her smile and a falter in her light.

I know my sister has a spine. By the time the fifth king steps up to be introduced, thank Gadda she finds it.

“Tell me about yourself,” she says, her light trembling as she strides forward. “I don’t need to know how wealthy you are, how many servants you have, or what gifts you have brought. Tell me instead, Your Majesty: What do you love?” She clasps her hands to keep them from shaking. “Why should I select you?”

This king stares, taken aback, as though he didn’t realize she could speak. Then he puffs up with pride, misunderstanding Vanna’s attention for interest.

“I am the sovereign of the Phan Isles,” he replies. “I’ve eighty horses in my stables, and the finest collection of teas in all of Tambu. My palace is the size of your village—that is why you should choose me.”

Vanna frowns. “I asked about you, not your kingdom. Who are you? Why do you come today?”

“Vanna!” Lintang grasps my sister’s wrist, and I can read her lips: What’s gotten into you?

Vanna stiffens, and she schools her expression back into its doll-like serenity. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I was merely curious. I am grateful for your presence here.”

She retreats with a bow, returning to her place beside Lintang. Her head is down, but her eyes are up, roaming across the assembly of villagers. Is she looking for me?

“I’m here,” I whisper, daring to wave from my tent.

She doesn’t see me. Her gaze goes to the cordon of young shamans separating the villagers from the temple. I can’t tell if she finds Oshli among them. She sinks into a shadow and folds her hand over her chest, covering her light.

Gadda help me, I wish I were there with her.

She doesn’t speak again, but the next suitors answer her questions anyway. One says that he likes music, and he actually sings for us, a pleasant ditty that has a few tapping their feet. Another is very religious and says he would build Vanna a golden shrine in her honor. Dakuok glances at the horizon, a sign that he is tiring of all the banter. At this rate, maybe the selection will take months.

Then comes King Meguh. He seems intent on rivaling Vanna’s light, the rubies and emeralds on his fingers flashing as he dismounts from his elephant and cuts in front of Emperor Hanriyu for the stairs.

He saunters up, patting the white moonstone as it swings across his torso. Nine attendants trail him, carrying violet-ribboned baskets. No, violet-ribboned cages. I hear birds flapping against the rattan fibers, and the multi-voweled cry of a monkey.

Then his last gift, a lidded clay pot, comes into view.

My throat goes tight, and the roof under my body vibrates with my anger. I can feel snakes suffocating inside, tangled and trapped, their bodies so entwined they’re like the threads in Lintang’s embroidery basket.

“I figured you’d had enough of silks and spices,” says King Meguh, flaunting his familiarity with Dakuok and Adah. “So I bring one of the great treasures from Shenlani.”

An attendant carefully lifts the lid.

“From my personal menagerie,” Meguh announces. “A gift to the island of Sundau, in honor of the extraordinary beauty found in its daughter, Vanna Jin’aiti.”

The most stunning serpents I’ve ever seen spring out of the pot, their vibrant azures and yellows rivaling the flowers sewn onto Vanna’s dress.

My sister leaps back in fear, and two attendants brandish flaming torches at the snakes, who shudder and coil back into the pot.

Lady Green Snake, they hiss. Help us. Free us.

My teeth saw side to side. These are not garden snakes, nor are they the typical serpents one would find while traipsing through the jungle.

They’re vipers. Rare ones. Poisonous ones.

A shiver spikes down my spine. King Meguh collects rare creatures. And Vanna is the rarest, most beautiful creature of all.

“Behold their exquisite markings,” he is saying. “Their skin is worth more than gold.” He smiles. “Like you, Vanna.”

I feel singed by hatred. I seize the spear I’ve made, about to snap it off the tent. If Meguh comes even close to winning the contest, I will deliver him the same fate I have prepared for Angma.