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It feels strange to hear Oshli speak of me with approval, and against my will his words whittle away at my grudge. There’s no dismissing the intention in his voice, the intensity. Like me, he will stop at nothing to save Vanna.

“My sister gave you up for a palace and a prince she barely knows,” I say. “Still you love her?”

Oshli’s brow pinches. “You think she’s doing this for a prince and a palace?”

“What else?”

The shaman shakes his head, making it clear he thinks I’m dense. “She has many reasons. Chief is you.”

The words take a moment to land. “Me?”

“We argued about you before the selection. She said her marriage was the best way to protect you. If she married into power, she’d find a way to get you what you want most. She’d break your curse.”

Vanna has told me this before, but I always thought she was justifying her own desire to become a queen. I was wrong. My throat suddenly hurts. Oh, Vanna.

I have to go. But first, I hike up my skirt for the dagger I hid on my calf. I have a feeling Oshli has the mettle, if not the training, to use it if necessary.

“Vanna wouldn’t take this,” I say, handing him the dagger. “You have it.”

He grips the hilt. His eyes are unyielding and hard, confirming my assessment of him. “Please, ask her to call for me once you find her.”

“I will. Where is she now?”

“She’s going to the temple for prayers with the royal family. It’s the building with the golden roofs. You can’t miss it.”

“Aren’t you coming too?”

“I doubt I’ll be able to keep up with you. I’ll find my own way.”

Fair enough.

“Watch the sky,” I say, pushing out the door. “Angma will be here before long.”

* * *

It’s still pouring as I tear across the palace grounds. The rain-washed paths are slippery, and the trees quake as the weather grows more violent. I do not stop until I reach the temple.

I find Adah and Lintang under a pavilion, kneeling before an altar. Behind them is a retinue of priestesses, each carrying a basket of yellow orchids. The oldest wears a blue scarf over her hair and leads the prayer.

Against my better judgment, I slow down. Vanna warned that Adah wouldn’t be happy to see me, but sometimes I really can be delusional. Maybe the bruises on my arms, the cuts on my face, will soften his heart. Maybe he’ll regret selling me to Meguh.

I am so naïve.

“The princess’s sister,” greets the priestess with the blue scarf. She inclines her head at me. “Would you like to join our prayer?”

At my arrival, my stepmother rises with ceremonial elegance. She tilts her head, and I can’t tell whether she is relieved or shocked to see me. With Adah, I need not guess.

While he rises, my knees instinctively buckle, but Ukar slaps my back with his tail and I straighten, raising my chin with newfound defiance. “I’m back, Adah.”

“At least have the decency to put on your mask,” he hisses. He notes my weapon. “You bring a spear to your sister’s wedding rites?”

He tries to seize it from me, but I do not let him. The brazen display of my superior strength infuriates him, and in spite of the priestesses and servants around us, he raises his hand to strike me.

Funny how small I used to feel around Adah. I’m as tall as he is. I’m stronger than he is. Yet in his presence, my instincts always told me to cower. My shoulders would curl in, and I would hunch…like a mouse.

Not today.

For the first time, I block him, catching his wrist easily in my grasp. He gasps. His anger freezes into fear. I could snap his bones with one hand, and he knows it.