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Father leaned over the bridge, gazing at a carp nibbling on algae. His voice was faraway, thoughtful. “She chose him for you—did you know?”

“Who?” I blinked. “Takkan?”

“I’d planned to marry you to a king abroad, or one of Lord Yuji’s sons to strengthen the warlords’ support for the throne. Your stepmother fought for you to choose your own match, but the council wouldn’t have it. So she swore that your marriage would at least bring you happiness.”

“I thought she meant to send me as far from Kiata as possible.”

Father gave a wan smile. “I seem to recall you thinking Iro was the darkest corner of the world. Wasn’t it only a few hours ago that you called it a wasteland?”

I shrank back with embarrassment. “I suppose it is rather far. But why Takkan? He never even came to court.”

“He did, once. I told you before that Bushi’an Takkan is not the sort of boy who would fare well in court. I suppose I never explained what I meant.”

He hadn’t, and I had assumed Takkan was a tactless barbarian, a lowly lord of the third rank. How wrong I’d been.

“His father has never cared about power,” explained the emperor. “Something I’ve come to value the longer I reign. The same is true of Takkan. Even as a child, he lacked the artifice necessary to charm the nobility.”

“He’s too honest,” I said dryly.

“Indeed,” Father said. “A trait I wish you shared.”

I winced.

“During his visit, he managed to impress your stepmother.”

“Raikama?” I frowned, the wick of my curiosity lit. Raikama had been infamously cold toward the courtiers. “How?”

“It was unintentional, I’m certain. One evening, the court children gathered around her. Their parents had instructed them to fawn over her beauty, and so they did, but you know how that irritated your stepmother. So she asked what they thought of the scar on her face. All the children lied that they barely noticed it.”

“Except Takkan,” I whispered. Takkan wouldn’t lie, and Raikama’s scar was the first thing anyone ever noticed when they saw her. Long and striking, it had cut diagonally across her face, but not once did she hide it or lower her head in shame.

Father nodded. “He hadn’t said a word until that moment, but I will never forget his response. ‘If you wanted to be told you were beautiful, you would hide your scar. But you don’t. It tells your story, a story that’s meant only for those worthy of hearing it.’ ”

“Oh, Takkan,” I murmured. I tried to picture the encounter, of Takkan all but insulting the imperial consort, and Raikama giving no hint at all of her thoughts. “His parents must have been mortified. His mother, especially.”

“She was.” Father chuckled. “For months, she sent us apology tapestries and an alarming number of rabbits carved of pine. Your stepmother had them all thrown out. So imagine my surprise when she chose him for you. To this day, I don’t know why those words endeared him to her.”

I didn’t, either. Raikama’s scar was still a mystery to me. “Why did you agree to it?”

“I trusted her judgment. She was always full of secrets, but regarding Takkan, she made a cogent case for him. Once I agreed to consider the boy, she made me promise not to tell you. She knew you wouldn’t give him a chance.”

“She was right,” I whispered. But fate had found a way to bring us together anyway. I wondered if Raikama had known it would be so.

“She was.” Father walked to the end of the bridge. “She often had great foresight. When you and your brothers were away, she sensed that some dark enchantment had fallen upon you, but she never lost faith that you would return home one day.”

The irony of his words should have made me wince, but I believed them. Raikama had cursed my brothers and me, exiling us to the farthest outskirts of the country—but she’d done it to protect us. How it must have pained her.

Father’s voice went low. “I do not wish you to leave again, but you are not safe in Gindara.” I made as if to speak, but he silenced me with a hand. “Do not argue with me, and do not even speak of going back to the Holy Mountains.”

I bit my tongue. Father knew me too well.

“The soldiers there know of the Demon King’s plans for you. If they see you near the breach, they will assume that he has invaded your mind and taken you prisoner.”

My eyes flew up. “Is that necessary?”

“All precautions are necessary, Shiori. The people blame you for the demon’s attacks, and the council presses me to banish you from Kiata.”

So much for telling Father we were going to steal Bandur’s amulet and take him to Lapzur. My brothers had been right—there was no chance he would approve.