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“Not against Bandur.”

“I thought not.” Qinnia unclasped the bracelet, beads rattling as she did so. “I grew up so superstitious I would count my steps to make sure I never took four at a time. I wouldn’t even eat four slices of peaches or wear white flowers in my hair—lest I invite misfortune to my family’s door. Yet I never believed in magic—not in dragons or sorcery, certainly not in demons.”

She rolled her sleeve back down. “But then you and the princes disappeared for months. Andahai told me he was turned into a crane, and you had to break his curse. I didn’t believe him at first, but sometimes at night his crane spirit still haunts him.” She bit her lip. “In the old legends, they say that once you’ve been touched by magic, it never fully leaves you.”

I fell quiet. Seryu had told me nearly the same about Kiata—that the gods couldn’t erase every trace of magic from the land. That my very existence proved it. Did that mean I needed to be stamped out and dug up like a weed? Or was I a seed—a sign that it was time for magic to return? I twisted my hands. Magic or no magic? Which was better for Kiata?

It was a problem I didn’t know how to solve, so I pushed it aside for the moment. “Andahai told you about the curse?”

“He told me everything,” she replied. “About the bowl on your head, the pearl Raikama left you, your journey to Ai’long. But ever since that awful dinner, he’s been withdrawn. I know he’s trying to protect me, especially since…” Her voice drifted, her hands touching her belly.

Suddenly I understood, and I clapped my hand over my mouth. “Emuri’en’s Strands! That’s wonderful news.”

“It’s still early,” Qinnia said shyly. “I told Andahai the day before you returned. But I almost wish I’d waited. I mentioned to him once that I was feeling weary, and ever since then he’s had the physician visit every day. He’s become…”

“Overbearing?” I suggested. “Overprotective and impossible?”

We shared a laugh.

“Yes. Exactly.”

“That’s the Andahai I’ve tolerated all my life,” I said. “It’s only around you that he’s tender and sweet.”

“I’m lucky,” admitted Qinnia. “But so are you. We’ve all grown fond of Takkan.”

I blushed, and a rush of warmth stole over my heart. He’d truly won my family over, as I knew he would. Another reason I had to keep him safe.

“Are you feeling better now?” I asked Qinnia.

“Food helps with the nausea. The tiredness comes in waves.”

“Food has a magical way of making me feel better too,” I replied. “I swear anything sweet has magic powers.” As we both bit into our peach slices at the same time, we exchanged shy grins. There was no way to explain why, but it felt as if we’d been friends for years. Friends who made weekly jaunts into Gindara to window-shop and gossiped over breakfasts of fried crullers and congee.

“If Andahai ever gets boorish about answering your questions, ask me,” I offered. “I’ll tell you what I can.”

Qinnia scooted to the edge of her chair, accepting the invitation into my inner circle with a grateful nod. I leaned forward too. I knew what she wanted to ask.

“I think we’ve come up with a way to defeat Bandur,” I divulged. I couldn’t share too much in case it compromised her, but I wanted her permission. “I will need Andahai’s help. The seven of us will have to go away again. Soon.”

Qinnia looked thoughtful. “All I ask is that you bring Andahai back alive,” she said. “That’s a command, sister.”

She’d never called me sister before, and I smiled, warmed by our new friendship. “I will.”

I was in good spirits when I exited her chambers, but that mood quickly vanished.

There, at the end of the hallway, stood Takkan.

I fled, putting as much distance as I could between myself and Takkan, until I was nearly at the Sacred Temple. Ironically, this was where Takkan and I were supposed to have our ceremony tomorrow.

He wouldn’t think to look for me in this part of the palace.

I slipped off my jacket, a brightly embroidered eyesore that was sure to draw attention, and stuffed it under a begonia bush. Then I veered away from the temple toward the nearest kitchen.

It was the smallest of the palace’s three cooking houses, and the sight of me stealing inside made the servants freeze, stricken in their spots, until they remembered to bow. At the first chance, they scattered out of the building. I pretended not to hear them muttering witch.

Since it was farthest from the royal banquet halls, this kitchen was scarcely used, and the produce in the pantry was ancient. Honestly, some of the vegetables looked like they’d been around since before I left for Ai’long. The potatoes had knobbed sprouts, the cabbage was wilted, and the carrots flopped when I held them up.

A perfect opportunity for me to practice my magic.