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Qinnia followed. “You’ll need help with that.”

She was gesturing at the hundreds of buttons on the pink dress gifted me by the dragons. They’d be impossible for me to undo on my own.

“Oh,” I said sheepishly. “Thank you.”

Carefully, she undid the button loops. “This material is exquisite,” she murmured. “The stitching is finer than anything I’ve ever seen.”

Aside from a few tactful remarks, Qinnia asked no questions of where I’d been, of the scars on my fingers or the white streak in my hair. I wondered if she’d hound Andahai for answers later. Or maybe she already knew.

“There,” she said when the last button was undone. “Would you like me to send my maids over to have it cleaned and mended?”

“There’s no need.” I took one last glance at the dress, and the memory of Seryu’s farewell brought a twinge to my heart. “Thank you for the offer, but I’ll keep it as it is.”

I disappeared into the bath alone. When I emerged, dressed in a simple purple robe with embroidered butterflies, the summer sun was flooding my rooms.

Qinnia was taking down the mourning sheets one by one. She was breathing hard.

“Let me help,” I offered, but she was already on the last sheet. “You’re the crown princess, you shouldn’t be—”

“No task is beneath a princess,” she said with a smile. “My mother taught me that. It makes you stronger.”

I gave a small smile in return. That was something Raikama would have said.

Qinnia was looking tired, and I offered her a seat, but she shook her head.

“I should take my leave. Your father will be here soon.” She touched my arm, preempting any response. “Andahai wouldn’t want me to tell you this, but you should know—when His Majesty woke from the winter slumber, the first person he asked for was you, Shiori.”

I lifted my head. “Me?”

“The emperor grieved for you all the months that you were away.” Qinnia folded the mourning sheets over her arms. “He thought you had died along with your stepmother, and nothing your brothers said could convince him that you were still alive.”

Heat pricked the corners of my eyes. I didn’t know what to say. “I’m glad you told me.”

She squeezed my arm. “And I’m glad you’re back. I’ll see you at the family dinner.”

When she left, Kiki flitted out of my sleeve. Ever oblivious to the finer human emotions, she thought nothing of me standing in a corner blinking back tears.

That was close! she exclaimed. Qinnia almost saw the pearl in your bag. You’d better put it away before your father comes.

That got my attention. I’d almost forgotten about the pearl. My shard from the mirror of truth, too.

Father wasn’t here yet, so I quickly slipped the shard into the box where I kept Takkan’s letters and opened my satchel. Its straw exterior was scratched and waterlogged, but the wooden lining inside was untouched by my adventure in the sea.

I scooped the pearl out, dreading when I’d have to explain to my brothers that it was still in my possession and that I needed to go to the Forgotten Isles of Lapzur.

At my touch, its halves parted slightly. The sight of it unsettled me, for the fracture was longer and deeper than ever before.

“Once all this demon business is taken care of, I’ll find my way to Lapzur,” I vowed to the pearl. “I’ll bring you home.”

Deep down, I feared that fulfilling my promise to Raikama was only the first step to me returning home. That there really was a piece of myself missing, and that even after I reclaimed it, I’d still feel like the kite I’d once lost, flying without an end to my string.

But at least I had a direction to go. Raikama was counting on me.

As carefully as I could, I wrapped the pearl in an ivory sheet and tucked it into the back of my closet.

“Stay there for now,” I said to it. “It won’t do you any good to follow me around in the palace. People will ask questions.”

I’m guessing I should stay in your room too, Kiki was saying as she lazed upon a mound of silk pillows. I for one don’t mind. I’m thrilled to be back. Though you’ll be next, won’t you?