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“Not if Prince Reiji’s wedding proceeds smoothly.”

The smile fled my lips. “Wedding?”

“I assumed that’s why you’d returned.”

I had no idea what wedding he spoke of. I knew I should keep quiet, but I couldn’t help myself: “When is it?”

The captain didn’t manage to hide his surprise in time, and I wanted to kick myself. Of course he assumed I would know. I was the princess of Kiata—how could I not be aware of my own brother’s wedding?

“It is today,” he replied as his men exchanged awkward looks they thought I wouldn’t see. “Right now, in fact.”

* * *

The sentinels advised me to change my dress before barging into the Temple of the Sacred Crane for Reiji’s wedding. Their suggestion was perfectly sensible, and I meant to take it.

But once I returned to the palace, my mind changed like the wind. I’d been away for far too long, and I’d missed far too many important moments. I wouldn’t miss Reiji’s wedding.

One of the sentinels had given me his cloak, and it flared out over my shoulders as I raced to the temple. This was home: the white sand courtyards, the pavilions with sloping eaves and hanging bronze lanterns. Jays and thrushes whistled from the gardens, and I could smell the citrus orchards ahead.

But not everything was the same.

Colorful banners swirled from the palace’s vermilion pillars, welcoming our A’landan visitors. Around the temple, hundreds had gathered to observe my brother’s alliance with the foreign princess. Naturally, the A’landans stuck out from the crowd, their ostentation rivaling that of the dragons in Ai’long.

Bedecked in the boldest shades of red, blue, and gold, our visitors strutted about, intent on outshining everyone. I wondered if the court officials, with their kingfisher headdresses and elaborately embroidered coats, tripped over each other on the way here, given how long their sleeves trailed.

Do they always dress like that? asked Kiki.

“Like a pride of peacocks?” I scoffed. “Only when they come to Kiata.”

The rivalry between A’landi and Kiata was as old as our countries. I could tell from our freshly pruned trees, the way the lacquered benches outside the halls shone, the stiffly ironed uniforms of the servants, that we had played our own part in this petty competition.

What an unwelcome sight I must be, wearing a sentinel’s cloak over my shoulders, with sand sprinkling from my slippers and seaweed stuck to my hair.

My return stunned everyone who recognized me: the lords and ladies kneeling outside the temple, the priests milling by the stairs. Even the guards jerked their heads for a second look when I passed.

“Princess Shiori!” one of the priests by the temple doors exclaimed, flustered by my arrival. “We were not told that you had returned.”

“I have,” I said in my most authoritative voice. “Now open the doors.”

“I’m afraid that isn’t permitted, not even for you, Shiori’anma,” he replied. “The ceremony has already begun, and they are in the middle of their prayers—”

“I’ll be quiet,” I said. “No one will even notice me come in.”

“But, Your Highness—”

I never used to pay attention to the priests before, and I wasn’t going to start now. With a lift of my arms and a whisper to the trees, I summoned a calamity of leaves to the temple’s grand entrance.

The leaves flew, pasting themselves to the priests’ faces like paper masks. As the priests cried for the guards, I traipsed up the temple steps, removed my slippers, and let myself inside.

I was quiet, as promised, closing the hefty doors with care. Still, everyone noticed me enter.

The temple held not the crowd of hundreds that I’d expected. The gathering inside was intimate; I could make out the backs of my father, my six brothers and a lady next to Andahai, the high priest and two monks, and a smattering of A’landi officials.

Takkan was nowhere to be found. And I didn’t even see Reiji’s bride.

Grumbles and sniffs punctuated the ceremonial silence, and I started to regret barging inside—until my brothers turned around.

How strange and wonderful it was to see them all, sitting beside Father and dressed in their court finery, as if nothing had changed. It gave me hope that I might slip back into my old life.