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I have no grievance against him, and I don’t want to hurt him anymore.

He’s a monster. Like me.

Trapped. Like me.

Unfortunately, he has no idea of my change of heart. He leaps into the air again, eliminating the distance between us in a breath. His wings were black a second ago, but now they are bluer than the ocean on the clearest day, almost mesmerizing—a tidal wave about to crash.

My mind sharpens back into battle mode, and I swoop left an instant before he would’ve reduced me to dust.

I land hard on my side. Pain stabs through my hip bone, and I feel something edged underneath—a rock maybe.

Through the pain, I force myself up. My skirt is torn, which is when I see—and remember—my paring knife!

Its blade is thin, meant for skinning mangoes and extracting coconut meat. But it’ll do.

The dragon lunges. Out of desperation, I feint to the right. He’s left an opening to his ribs, a mistake a warrior like him should know better than to make. In my frenzy of thoughts, I don’t question whether he’s made it on purpose. I have an opening. I seize it.

I rush forward, slamming my entire body into his ribs. I weigh little compared to him, but the force of my rush makes him stagger. Thrusting the knife at his leg, I slice just above his knee.

His wings snap into a fold over his back, but he doesn’t cry out, as a man would.

He bleeds silently, landing on one knee.

Wind ruffles my hair, tickling the sweat beading on my nape. Behind me, Dakuok declares, much to everyone’s astonishment, that I am the winner.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The fight is over, but I cannot move. I am still shocked by the abruptness of my victory.

I glance at the dragon, taking in the intricate webbing of his wings, the sheen of his scales, the blood flowing from his knee.

Funny, I expected him to bleed red, as a human does. As I do. But his blood is as black as ink. A reminder that he’s anything but human. That, skilled as I may be, he is a hundred times the warrior I am. Yet he left that opening….

He let me win. Why?

The dragon’s eyes flick to mine. With a flip of my stomach I remember that, like Ukar, he can hear my thoughts.

Thank you, I say.

He doesn’t respond. A soldier emerges from the crowd. He is holding a blue-feathered dart, and he shoots it into the dragon’s neck.

The dragon sags to the ground, wings falling so fast that a few villagers scream and tear away.

As Meguh’s servants drag him back into his cage, pity blooms inside me. This is the first time I’ve recognized a little of myself in someone else besides Vanna.

The villagers are applauding. Minutes ago, they were shouting for my death. Now they part for Prince Rongyo, who approaches with an outstretched hand. On his palm is my wooden mask, cracked but still intact.

Wordlessly, I take it from him. His attendants surround me. I’m fanned and lifted onto a rattan chair, and the little gold bells sewn onto the attendants’ vests tinkle as they carry me to the temple dais.

My sister’s face fills my vision. She takes my hand, a flush high on her cheeks from running. “You did it, Channi.” Tears stream down her face, and she grabs my hand, drowning me in her light. “Thank you. Thank you.”

I’m too tired to speak, but I am content to see Vanna so happy. Slowly, the blood rushes back into my face. I slide my paring knife under my skirt, its weight heavy on my hip.

I am rank with sweat, and there is dirt all over me. Lintang nudges Vanna away, but my sister doesn’t let go of my hand.

“Well done for a demon girl,” Dakuok says, patting my shoulder. I shrug him off, but he is still smiling at me. “I am glad you won. Perhaps you can be of some use after all.”

In the near distance, Meguh is conceding victory to Prince Rongyo. I hear the words “snake” and “dragon” and a rumble of unpleasant laughter from Meguh’s belly, but the rest is lost. All I want is to drink a jugful of water and lie down for hours.