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“Allow me to reintroduce you to my wife, Princess Qinnia.”

Qinnia came timidly forward. Up close, she was very pale, and shadows clung to her cheeks. She looked like she’d lost weight recently. I bowed quickly before she noticed I was staring, and before making eye contact. It was the proper thing to do: as the crown princess, she now outranked me.

“Please, Shiori’anma, bowing isn’t necessary—”

“It’s my honor,” I said, bowing even more deeply. I rose with a grin. “And call me Shiori, please—I thank the Strands I won’t be the only princess of Kiata anymore. I suppose this means you can take my place in the morning prayers?”

“She’s joking,” Andahai reassured his wife.

I cleared my expression of mischief. “I’ve always wanted an older sister. Welcome to the family. Can you tell the twins apart yet?”

That made her smile. “As of last week. Yotan has a mole on his chin—and unlike Wandei, he’s constantly smiling.”

“Wandei also tends to squint when he’s looking in the distance,” added Reiji, finally joining us. “He spent too much time reading by candlelight when he was young.”

I hugged Reiji. When I let him go, I dusted off the sand I’d gotten on his ceremonial robes. “Where is your bride?” I asked.

“Still in A’landi. It’s a marriage by proxy.”

“You mean, she isn’t coming?”

Eyeing the A’landans remaining in the temple, Reiji explained in a hushed tone: “I’m to go to Jappor and marry the khagan’s daughter so we can establish peace.”

“You’ll be a hostage there!”

“I want to go,” said Reiji. “Andahai and Benkai have always upheld their duties. It’s time I did something useful too.”

There was no bitterness in my brother’s voice. Reiji’s tone was light, and I could tell he was being sincere. So why did his words make my heart feel heavy?

“When do you leave?” I asked.

Reiji didn’t get a chance to reply.

All six princes immediately stepped back into a line, bowing. Father was right behind me.

It took all my restraint to bow too and not look up. I hadn’t seen him since my brothers and I had been cursed. More than anything, I wanted to embrace him as I had my brothers, and answer the hundreds of questions he must have. But it was a good thing I held back.

“Months away without any word,” the emperor reproved, “then upon your return, you insolently disrupt a sacred ceremony. Shaming Kiata before A’landi’s envoys!”

My spirits deflated. “Father…”

“You will return to your chambers at once,” he said, turning for the shrine exit. “Attire yourself in something befitting an imperial princess, and await my visit. You have much to answer for, daughter.”

The sting of Father’s rebuke followed me all the way to my room, and I was quiet in Qinnia’s company. My new sister-in-law had insisted on walking with me, and she graciously filled the silence with anecdotes about what Andahai and my brothers had been up to while I was away. It was a kind gesture, and I warmed to her for it.

You should make friends with her, urged Kiki from inside my sleeve. She seems nice.

Not today. I wasn’t in the mood.

“Here we are,” Qinnia announced, sliding my doors open.

I stepped inside. In my memory, I’d only been away a week; I remembered precisely how I’d left my room. A mess, with towers of silk pillows beside my bed, and clothes and half-empty plates strewn across the floor. But everything had been tidied up and put away, even the tiny nook of cushions I’d made for Kiki. Ivory mourning sheets hung over my windows, and scrolls and prayer plaques hemmed my bed, wishing me safe passage to the afterlife.

“I’ll send for someone to take all this away,” Qinnia said, looking more stricken than I was by all the mourning arrangements. “The emperor had them put up again when you left.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “It doesn’t bother me.”

I headed straight for the washing chamber. I could feel the brine between my toes and the weight of the sand still in my hair. It’d be good to bathe. I bet I smelled horrible.