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A tuft of smoke had puffed up from the candle by the window. Except that candle had never been lit.

A terrible certainty welled within me.

From the window, I saw smoke drift up from the amulet around Takkan’s neck. It slipped between the knots that held Takkan fast, then seeped into his mouth and nostrils. “Get the spear!” he shouted. “Now, Shiori!”

With a gasp, I lunged for Raikama’s weapon. I’d made it to the door when Takkan appeared, ropes still dangling from his waist, eyes flickering uncontrollably from brown to red. He blocked me, a smirk distorting his features.

I swung, but Takkan evaded the spear easily and caught the shaft in one hand. His eyes blazed red as wolfberries as he pushed me against the wall.

You know, I’ve always wanted to meet the Wraith. Bandur’s voice stabbed into my thoughts. And now I know his true name, thanks to you. He rammed the spear against my shoulder, and a firework of pain exploded in my collarbone.

Kiki launched herself at the demon, but I caught her by the wing and hurled her out of the window—she had no chance against Bandur. Not that I did, either. I couldn’t even look away as the Wolf misted into being, his horrid visage superimposed over Takkan’s.

“Clever of you, seeking to pit the Wraith against me. But you make a mistake, Shiori’anma. You imagine he’ll be like me, open to reason and conversation.”

“You? Open to reason and conversation?” I scoffed. My hands were on the spear, but little by little, I was stepping toward the kitchen, trying to reach the unwashed bowls I’d left on the table. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“He is called the Wraith for a reason. There is a dark side to his nature, and his time on Lapzur has surely eroded whatever good there once was. He will be demon to the core—only with a dragon’s strength. You’ll see soon enough.”

“Yes,” I said through my teeth, “I will.” Letting go of Raikama’s spear, I smashed a bowl over Takkan’s head.

The room went silent as he slumped to the ground, unconscious. Bandur was gone, at least for now.

I didn’t have a breath to waste. With my heart pounding, I dragged Takkan back to the tree. His whole body clenched as I retied the ropes, wincing to see the knots dig into his skin. Just when I thought to loosen the ties, a snarl escaped his lips. I didn’t know if that was Takkan subconsciously helping me or if he was actually fighting off Bandur. But I gritted my teeth and tied them tighter. Then I lit incense around the tree and started fires in each brazier. By the time I was finished, it was nightfall.

I was exhausted, and I collapsed onto Raikama’s broken stool. I leaned my head against the wall, trying not to worry about Takkan and instead imagine my stepmother’s former life. At my side, the mirror of truth lay beneath a damp pile of sweat-ridden clothes.

“I wonder if she used to sit here,” I murmured aloud to it, “and just stare out the window. Not much of a view. I bet it helped her sleep.”

As I spoke, Ujal slid into the hut, crawling noiselessly to my side.

She’s telling you to sleep, said Kiki. You’ll need your rest for the battles to come. Her kind will watch Takkan tonight.

“I’m not tired.”

The Serpent Queen’s words were not a request. Her yolky eyes glowed like Raikama’s, and a lull fell over me, forcing me to obey her wishes.

If only I’d asked Seryu how to break the sleep spell. “Dragons and snakes really are cousins,” I mumbled before I slumped over the broken stool, my head tipping against the wall.

As I nodded off, I was dimly aware of Ujal and her snakes surrounding the tree, layering themselves in a protective circle around Takkan.

What I didn’t notice at all was the mirror of truth, glimmering under my arm.

* * *

In my dreams, I hadn’t been born yet, and this house hadn’t been abandoned. It belonged to a family of two sisters. The first was a girl a little older than me, tanned and sinewy, her limbs as muscular as a seasoned sentinel’s. Her hair was in a long and messy braid, but when she turned, I saw her face covered by a thin wooden mask.

Channari.

The broken stool was broken even then, and it wobbled as she sat. Her hands worked deftly, peeling a taro root, but her thoughts roamed far away, as far as she could get from her adah’s kitchen, from the four walls that surrounded her like a cage. What she wouldn’t give to run free of this place forever and disappear into the forests.

What she wouldn’t give to live among the trees and wild beasts. Only there did she feel safe. Only there did she forget that she was a monster.

She reached for the next taro root to peel.

“It’s such a shame, isn’t it?” her sister was saying, oblivious to Channi’s thoughts. “You know Adah’s going to pick the richest one, but all the rich ones are so ugly. And old.”

“Did you have someone else in mind?”