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“You underestimate yourself,” I reply. “You have more power than you know. I would’ve helped you.” I pause. “I still can.”

She doesn’t reply. I know she’s doesn’t want to disappoint Lintang and Adah. Her whole life, she’s pleased everyone simply by existing. She isn’t used to being a source of disappointment.

I wrap my arm around her back, press my cheek to hers, scale to fur. “Find the light that makes your lantern shine,” I say softly. “Hold on to it, even when the dark surrounds you. Not even the strongest wind will blow out the flame.”

She goes very still. Not a single strand of fur stirs.

“Oshli is that light, isn’t he?” I say in a low voice. “And you are his, just like he wrote in that letter.”

Twice now, I’ve asked her about the letter I found in her pocket. This time, she finally gives the barest nod.

“He told me you fought over me,” I say. “But that’s not the only reason you cast him away, is it?”

“You two have more in common than you think,” she replies. “Like you, he hardly ever smiles.” She snorts. Then she turns somber. “And like you, Sundau’s the place he loves most. He was born and raised to become shaman of the temple there.” A pause. “If he ties himself to me…he’ll never have that quiet life. He might have to leave Tambu. Maybe forever.”

“If he is like me, he will not mind it,” I say. “He would choose to be with you.”

Vanna inhales. “You know, what I always wanted was for you two to be friends. He told me once that you were, as children. He said you were his first friend.”

And he was mine. I lift my head, surprised that he remembers.

“I used to ask him what you were like before your face was cursed,” Vanna confesses.

It’s my turn to go still. “What did he say?”

“He said that our house was the farthest from the village, his favorite to visit with his father. He said you used to race each other across the roads, and that you poked at worms together, and one time you flooded the kitchen.”

“We did,” I say, almost smiling. “Even after my curse, he didn’t mock me like the other children did—not at first, anyway. He’d hold my hand while I cried, and I used to think it wouldn’t be so bad since I had a friend.”

I don’t share the rest. That one day, Oshli changed. He stopped looking for me when he visited Adah’s house, stopped acknowledging that I existed. It hurt, but at least I had my sister. Vanna, who loved me no matter what I looked like.

I stroke Vanna’s ears. “You’re right that he and I have much in common,” I tell her. “Wherever you go, he will go with you. If you’re ever lost, he will find you. I will be the same, right there with him.”

I’ve never seen a tiger cry. I didn’t think they could. But Vanna’s pupils turn glassy, and the tears moisten the rims of her amber eyes, making the fur around them wet too.

My own sight goes misty, and wiping at my eyes and my nose, I pull her up by a hairy paw. My hand is small in hers, almost like a child’s. “Come on. Let’s go find him.”

Her whiskers tilt up again, and her face brightens with hope, more like a stray cat in the village that’s just been given milk than a fearsome tiger demon. “All right, I’ll come.”

My heart swells for her, and hand in paw we rise.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

The archers nock their arrows as soon as Vanna emerges from the garden. It’s a miracle they don’t shoot. The true miracle is the light in her heart. With each step she takes, it glimmers brighter, fanning over the flowers and the grass.

The soldiers hesitate. They’re confused. They can sense she’s different. No longer is she wreathed in shadow, and her presence does not inspire fear.

“Drop your weapons,” I say. “This is the Golden One.”

The guards’ attention snaps to me.

“This is the Golden One,” I say again. “Angma has taken her body. She needs to see Prince Rongyo.”

“You cannot take that…that beast to the royal prince,” blusters one of the guards.

“Watch me.” I advance, but the guards block my way. Now their weapons are raised.

I’m battle-weary and exhausted, but I am ready to fight. I wave my spear high, until Vanna pushes me back by her tail.