Page 91

Ukar’s right, I’m not good at shooting. But I do learn quickly. This time, I press a second arrow to my skin, dabbing it with my blood before I nock it to my bow. When the same suiyak catches it, she doesn’t laugh.

Good. One fewer.

By now, Vanna, Rongyo, and the queen have retreated into the temple. They probably think they’re safe there, but the suiyaks are threading through the palace arches, shattering windows, and clawing anybody that gets in their way. Before long, they surround the temple, searching for a path inside. I run after them, until I hear Adah and Lintang’s shrieks.

I’ve played this scene in my head a thousand times, promising myself that if Adah were ever in trouble, I wouldn’t lift a finger to help him. That I’d remember all the times he struck me, and all the times he told me I was hateful.

Yet in this moment of reckoning, I advance toward him. There’s nothing that can right the wrongs he has wrought upon me. No matter how much I might hate him, he is still my father.

And so, a beat before a suiyak will drain Adah’s life, I throw myself at the creature and gouge her neck with my spear. Thick black blood splatters over my face, and the creature’s eyes go blank. Her body turns limp in my arms.

“Run!” I yell at Adah and Lintang.

They scamper toward the temple doors. The blue priestess is there, helping everyone inside. “Hurry!” she shouts, ushering Adah and Lintang within. They are the last to seek sanctuary.

The priestess starts to close the doors. Standing alone at the top of the temple steps, she is vulnerable to attack, yet the suiyaks avoid her completely. They are feeding on the dead.

Before she locks the temple doors, the priestess takes a moment to survey the attack. With one hand, she undoes the blue scarf over her head. Her hair billows in the wind, white as bone, and as the sun gilds her face, her eyes gleam. Yellow and bright as a tiger’s.

Angma!

I bolt for the temple, charging up three steps at a time to the top. The heavy wooden doors slam in my face, but I wedge my spear between them and pry until I open a gap wide enough to slide through. There, I tackle the priestess.

No sooner do I touch her than the yellow in her eyes fades and her face crumbles into ash. As I stagger back in horror, the rest of her dissolves too, and is swept away by a gust of wind that’s followed me through the doors.

“May the gods see your spirit home,” I murmur, hoping that wherever the real priestess’s soul has gone, she can hear me. At least her body will no longer be a shell for the Demon Witch.

“Get out of here!” I shout at the crowd, but thunderclaps swallow my voice. The entire temple shudders, and with an ominous sweep of the wind, every candle goes out.

Darkness bathes the walls. I can barely make out my shadow or even the outline of Ukar’s tail. But it’s easy to know where to go—in the farthest corner, a golden light shines like a beacon. Vanna can’t smother her heart’s radiance the way one blows out a candle. Unless I do something, her light is going to get her killed.

They’re coming, Ukar whispers.

Claws scratch the other side of the walls, nails shrieking against the wood. The doors are rattling, and the guards huddle around them, their swords raised and ready.

“Get away!” I shout. “Away from the doors!”

There’s an explosion. Men fly back, and debris shoots everywhere, pelting the people inside. I shield my face, and when I look up, the wooden doors are smashed and crackling with flame.

Smoke floods the temple. Everyone is panicking—I hear Lintang’s voice among the chorus of screams—but I have never been calmer. The next few seconds will determine all our fates, and I don’t waste them. I grab Vanna.

She is numb with shock, and the glow in her heart ebbs and flickers as I drape my scarf over her, wrapping it around her to cover her light. She doesn’t stop me.

When we were children, she believed the story of Angma. She’d lie for me when I went to the jungle to search for tigers; she’d even help me train to become stronger. Only after we moved to Puntalo Village and she became friends with people like Oshli did she start to think my stories were tall tales.

Where would we be if she’d kept believing? It’s pointless to wonder, yet my mind can’t resist torturing itself.

I drag her into an anteroom, behind a statue of Niur. With a swift slash, I cut into my arm and sprinkle some of my blood onto Vanna’s dress and on the flowers in her hair.

My sister gasps. “What are you—?”

“Don’t touch it,” I remind her sharply. “It’ll burn you if you do.”

The suiyaks aren’t attacking anymore, Ukar announces, crawling to my side. Do you think Angma is coming?

“She’s already here.”

Across the temple, everyone has gathered around an altar, and the priests and priestesses chant, summoning protection wards. They only postpone the inevitable.