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There’s no Hokzuh in it.

Which means Vanna is gone.

Gone.

Rain drums the top of Adah’s head. It drenches his beard and his long umber sleeves, and water leaks out as his arm arcs toward me. Another slap.

This time I feel it. It doesn’t hurt, but my ears ring from the impact, and I see the imprint of my scales on Adah’s palm.

Anger surges up my chest. How is this my fault?

My inhibitions are gone, and I summon my full strength against my father, breaking his grip on me. I snap his wrist with a loud crack, and his breath turns into a wheeze as I hurl him into the bushes, where Lintang has been hiding from the suiyaks.

My stepmother rushes to him, cradling his broken wrist like an egg. Her stricken eyes meet mine, and they’re filled with fear at what I’m capable of doing.

I part my lips, an apology on the tip of my tongue. But my cheek burns where Adah slapped it, and I lock my teeth so no words will pass. Never will I apologize for being the monster they made me.

I gather Ukar around my neck. This time, when I turn on my heel, no one calls after me.

Where are you? I shout for the dragon in my thoughts. Hokzuh?

My spear lies on the fringes of the royal garden, nestled between ferns. I pick it up and cut through the bracken, searching and shouting.

I don’t know where I’m going. Because of Adah, I’ve lost sight of Hokzuh. I’m about to climb a tree for a better vantage point when I come across a reflecting pool. The water is overflowing onto the grass. Then I see the half-dragon floating inside.

Hokzuh’s eyes are shut, and his wings are spread wide. He’s grasping his moonstone with both claws, the tension in his broad knuckles the only clue that he’s still alive.

Where is Vanna?

I leap into the pool, wading past the carp to fish out Hokzuh’s limp form. He’s damned heavy, but it turns out I can lift him after all.

The talons on his feet scrape against the grass, crushing the water lilies that have spilled out of the pool. His body is riddled with new cuts and bites. Once I lay him on the ground, I thump the heel of my palm into his chest, hard.

Hokzuh coughs to life. “Serpents of Hell, Channari!”

“Where is Vanna?” I demand.

He coughs again. I don’t have time for this. I strike once more, this time with the flat of my spearhead. “Where is she?”

“The suiyaks took her.”

“Took her? How? You were holding her!”

He bats my spear away. It’s then that I spy that his moonstone is no longer on the cord I gave him—and there’s a bloody gash on his neck.

No, that doesn’t make sense. That can’t be!

I dig my spear into his open wound, and he howls in pain. “You let go of Vanna for your moonstone,” I say, fuming. “What is it, really? Tell me.”

He won’t answer, and I have to restrain myself from impaling him. The dragon owes me answers, but they can wait. There are more important matters at hand.

“Get up,” I say. “We have to find her.”

“You waste your efforts. She’s gone.”

“I meant Angma!” I snap.

As I say her name, a tiger’s growl stings the air, close enough that particles of dust shudder.