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Takkan, sitting in the front row, had had enough. He shot to his feet. “The princess’s death will only continue the foolhardy cycle of bloodsakes dying every generation. She has the power to fight the demons. I’ve seen it myself. We have to give her that chance.”

The ministers disagreed. “One death every generation is a small price to pay for the safety of our great nation.”

“Is it?” Takkan argued. “Other nations deal with demons and magic daily—”

“And chaos is their ruler. Kiata is the leading light of Lor’yan precisely because we take charge of our own destiny. But what would you know, Lord Takkan? You’ve hardly spent any time in Kiata’s heartland.”

“You are quick to call others barbarians,” said Takkan coldly. “But look at yourselves. Ready to spill innocent blood without considering other options.”

Huffs and sniffs ensued. Takkan was ignored as the ministers turned their attention back to the emperor. “Your Majesty, listen to reason. Give your daughter to the priestesses before it’s too—”

“That is enough.” Father strove to sound calm, but an undercurrent of anger pulsed through his words. “I will not collaborate with those cultists. The next person who suggests it shall wake tomorrow in Lord Sharima’en’s realm.”

The ministers went silent.

“Nor will Shiori’anma become a weapon against the demons,” said the emperor, rounding on Takkan. “Even if she wants to.”

Chief Minister Hawar had kept his silence until now. When the room went still, he spoke: “Then we should keep the princess confined to the palace, Your Majesty. At least until we have a chance to fully question the captured priestesses—and execute them for their betrayal. I am happy to join the imperial commander in the interrogation—once Her Highness’s betrothal ceremony is completed, of course. This would be for her safety.”

“Your Majesty,” Takkan protested. “I don’t think—”

“Yes,” the emperor interrupted. “That is a fine idea, Minister Hawar. Lord Takkan, I bid you ensure that my daughter does not leave the palace.”

I threw down the mirror. I’d seen enough. “I can’t believe Father would listen to Hawar. He’s a two-faced liar.” I blew a long sigh, deflating as my air left me. The same could be said of me, only Takkan didn’t know it.

“I don’t think your father trusts Hawar,” said Takkan, ever loyal. “But he does want you safe. That’s why he appointed me as your—”

“Bodyguard? You must be delighted now that your role is official.” I sank and dug my nails into the dirt. “Thanks for voting not to have me killed at least.”

“I have selfish reasons for wanting to keep you alive.”

That made me smile in spite of myself.

“I believe in your magic, Shiori. And in you,” he said. “Magic has been gone for so many centuries our people don’t remember the good it can do.”

“Like making moldy radishes new again?”

“Like this,” Takkan said, gesturing at the wildflowers that had bloomed where my hand touched the earth. Gen was right about me needing to practice my magic—I hadn’t even noticed.

“Flowers aren’t going to win over Kiata,” I said, thinking of how the palace servants avoided me now, as if my magic were a disease. “People are more afraid of me than of Bandur. That fear won’t change even if we defeat him.” The flowers wilted and vanished as I yanked back the threads of my magic. “Too many people have been hurt on account of me.” I swallowed hard. “Maybe I am a menace to Kiata.”

“The way you say that, I know there’s more on your mind.” Takkan leaned close, and his sleeves brushed mine. “Are you pushing me away because you think you’ll put me in danger?”

How did he know me so well?

I stared at the ground until he tipped my chin up. “There it is—that displeased grimace. You’re a skilled liar, Shiori, but your mouth gives you away.”

I was about to protest, but Takkan wasn’t finished: “You forget I spent an entire winter watching it. Observing every smile, every frown, every twist and tug for a window into your thoughts. Now that I can see your eyes, there isn’t much you can hide from me.

“You always worry about others being safe,” he went on. “Let me do the worrying for once. Will you tell me what’s been troubling you?”

Guilt gathered under my skin. Tonight was the last chance I’d have to tell him about my vision before our betrothal ceremony. I parted my lips, readying an admission, but my ribs tightened and my mouth went dry. The words wouldn’t come.

I’d already lost Raikama, and the possibility of losing Takkan hurt more than anything. Better he hate me than die. Better we break off the ceremony altogether.

I pinched my eyes shut. “Maybe you should go back to Iro. Maybe we should annul our betrothal.”

There. I’d said it.