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After a pause, he asked, “Where did you really go?”

“To the Forgotten Isles of Lapzur,” I replied. “Raikama asked me to go there to fulfill her last wishes. I took Bandur with me, and he is trapped there. He will never plague Kiata again.”

“That is welcome news,” said Father. His tone betrayed nothing, and I didn’t bring up how Bandur had possessed him in the Holy Mountains. I understood my father’s pride; that would be a secret that died with me.

He gestured at my hair. “Is this the price you paid for our deliverance?”

I offered a small smile. “I’m not as changed as I look. Still impertinent, still not good at following instructions.”

“I believe it.” The emperor brushed his hand over my forehead, the way he had when I was little. “It’ll take some getting used to, but it suits you. You always were a child of winter.”

His hand fell to my shoulder. “No more lies. No more secrets. Can you promise me that?”

I took a step back. “Baba,” I said quietly, instead of answering, “would you have protected all the bloodsakes the way you’ve protected me—or do you only care because I’m your daughter.”

The question took him by surprise. He inhaled. “If I am honest, usually by the time word of the bloodsakes reaches the emperor, they are dead.”

Perhaps that was why I’d been chosen this time. Because unlike the others born before me, I had the emperor’s ear. I had a voice.

I had to use it.

“I will be honest too,” I said. “I’m going back to the breach. I want to speak with the demons.”

“Have you lost your senses?” Father’s eyes constricted. “You are not permitted anywhere near that evil place. A law you knew well the first time you broke it. Break it again, and I will have no choice but to punish you.”

“Had I stayed put, Bandur would still be in Kiata,” I argued. “Let me deal with the rest of the demons.”

“Demons killed your stepmother. I will not have them kill you too.” The circles under Father’s eyes deepened, and I noticed for the first time how much he had aged in the past year. “If you have children one day, you will understand. When you and your brothers disappeared, I would have given anything—my crown, my kingdom, my life—to have you all safe.”

A lump hardened in my throat, and I did something I’d never dared to do even when I was a little girl. I reached for Father’s hand, clasping it tightly.

I can make us safe again, I wanted to assure him. I can stop the demons. But those words wouldn’t come.

Because no matter what I did, things could never go back to the way they were. The home I’d yearned for when I was under Raikama’s curse was gone, and all I could do was build a new one. Somehow.

“Kiata is my home,” I said instead. “Let me fight for it.”

Father’s eyes were mirrors of my own, reflecting the same stubbornness and resolve. “I’m not a fool, daughter. I understand what happened to Hasho.” His fists clenched, and it took a long breath for him to regain his composure. “You could suffer far worse.”

“Even if that is so, I am not afraid. This is what I was born to do. For so long, I’ve ignored my role as a princess—a daughter of Kiata. Let me do my duty now.”

Father’s hands dropped to his sides. He knew I was using his old words against him. “I miss the days when you hid from your tutors in the trees. I didn’t worry half as much about you then as I do now.”

My mouth quirked into a knowing smile. “You won’t keep me from the mountains?”

“I want to,” he said thinly. “But I know you, Shiori, and I know you have your brothers behind you. Young Lord Bushi’an too. You’ve already sneaked out once before; you’d do it again without question. So better I equip you all with what you need than have you confront these demons unprepared.”

“Thank you,” I said, meaning it. Then my brow furrowed as I thought hard. “Are the priestesses captured from the mountains still alive?”

“One is…barely.”

I almost pitied the woman.

“Could you arrange an audience?” I asked. “I wish to speak to her.”

* * *

The priestess Janinha was a specter of the smug old woman I’d encountered in the mountains. Patches of blood crusted her cheeks, and her hair hung about her in straw-like clumps, marbled with dirt and mud. Without her wooden staff, she looked too weak to do harm, but I wasn’t fooled. Not when her eyes cut into me like two scythes, freshly sharpened and devoid of remorse.