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But the way of demons is to deceive, and the most formidable ones can take on the shape of nearly any beast. So no matter how sure I am, I will not know for certain if she is Angma…

…until I see her eyes.

I ready the stick in my hand. Keep your gaze up, Channi. Always up.

The reminder has nothing to do with the possibility that the tiger might have Angma’s demon eyes. It’s to avoid the water.

I advance toward the pond. It’s ironic that the villagers forbid children from entering the jungle to protect them from tigers, so they play by the sea, splashing and swimming with the colorful fish and tortoises. But I would rather face a thousand tigers than the monster that is my reflection.

To see that instead of the girl I should have been: one with black braids, brown eyes, a soft nose, and full lips…. I thought the pain would ease over the years, but it hasn’t. It’s only become more deeply entrenched, stitched into my very soul.

I suck in a breath. Luckily, I’ve gotten good at not looking down.

Enough of this, Channi, chides Ukar. You’re going to get yourself killed—

I scoop him up with my stick and toss him far from imminent danger. Without wasting a second, I leap out of the ferns and onto the tiger’s back.

She snarls with surprise. She’s not used to being ambushed. I have only seconds before her shock turns into anger, and then into brutal, tremendous strength.

I cling to her torso, squeezing as hard as I can. Even though she isn’t fully grown, she is easily twice my size. I feel her muscles ripple under her shoulders, her blood rushing under the heat of my cheek. She rises onto her hind legs and roars, making my ears ring.

If I want to know the truth, I’ve no choice but to look down. Honey-yellow eyes, dilated now from our fight, glare at me in the pool’s reflection. They’re flat and angry and dull. And their pupils are black.

Guess she’s not a demon after all, I realize as she flings me into the pool.

My world shrinks, and water beats against my eardrums. I flail for the surface. Gasping for air, I pull myself out with my stick—and clamber for the bank.

I don’t get far. Sharp teeth snap at my neck. I duck, and the tiger’s jaws clamp down around my fighting stick instead. Its pieces blow past my shoulder while I dart left, narrowly evading the next strike.

The tiger’s fast, but I know how to move, thanks to years of chasing monkeys trying to filch cakes from my pockets, years of rooting rat and spider demons out of their caves, years of evading the hard thwacks of Adah’s cane.

Before she can pounce on me again, I let out my fiercest cry. She throws her head back and snorts.

“I’m not done yet,” I say through my teeth.

Then, retrieving my knife, I slash my palm and hold it before her.

Her claws retract. She snarls but ceases her taunting. As the blood pools around the gash, the scent of its poison is magnified a thousandfold. The tiger knows it is more lethal than any sword.

Our fight fizzles into a stare-down. The tiger circles me, but my eyes never leave hers. I don’t even dare blink. I hold my hand up, letting the blood trickle down my forearm onto the dirt.

Finally, she roars. A deafening, wrathful roar that I surely deserve. Then she runs off into the jungle, disappearing into the mist.

Once she’s gone, I practically collapse. My heart thunders in my ears, which are still ringing from the tiger’s roar. My chest hurts so much it feels like my heart and my lungs are at war. I want to throw up, but instead, a laugh bubbles out of my throat.

I melt onto the earth, all but cackling as the sun dries my hair and clothes.

Ukar finds me. His scales blend with the dirt, and I almost don’t see him. Only descendants of the Serpent King can change their colors, and Ukar loves flexing this ability to catch me off guard.

Using your blood was a cheat, he chides. You said you wouldn’t do that anymore.

I roll my eyes. “I won, didn’t I?”

Recklessly, and without honor.

“Demons don’t have honor.”

Not all demons are the same.