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“There’s something I need to tell you,” I said to my family the next morning.

Over breakfast, I recounted the truth behind my arrangement with Elang.

I told them about his plan to overthrow the Dragon King, how we’d sought help from the merfolk, and confronted him at Jinsang Palace.

Nomi and Fal listened intently, and Baba asked many questions.

Mama, however, only showed interest in the Scroll of Oblivion.

“This is the vision I had last night,” I said, unrolling my sketch of Nazayun.

“I’m going to copy it onto the Scroll. It should take me about a week if everything goes well.”

“If everything goes well,” Mama echoed, finally speaking.

All this time, she’d been quiet, not interrupting even once with a question.

In fact, she’d started trimming snap peas in the middle of my story.

The sharp snips of her scissors made me nervous.

“The Dragon King doesn’t look like he’s about to be defeated,” she said of the vision I’d painted.

“He looks like me when I’m about to win a game of tiles. Are you sure you’ve captured the right moment?” She didn’t wait for me to answer.

“And the waters, they’re so dark. Are you going back to Ai’long?”

“No.” Baba traced the lines of the sea to a pier.

“See there, that quay by the harbor, those fishing boats behind the fog. This is Gangsun.”

“So Nazayun will bring the darker waters here?” Falina asked.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Seems like there’s still much you haven’t planned,” said Mama, setting aside the snap peas.

“Truyan, dear, is the Scroll of Oblivion really inside that bracelet of yours? That must be magic, can I see?”

I was far too gullible when it came to my mother.

I raised my wrist.

“The Scroll’s in the center black threa—”

Mama grabbed me, clipping at the red string with her scissors.

“Ma!” I jerked away before she could cut it.

“What are you doing?”

“Saving your life,” she snapped.

“I knew this was all too good to be true! Give me the bracelet, Truyan. I’m ending your contract.”

“You can’t.” I pulled down my sleeve.

Thank goodness for the strength of merfolk silk.

“Going up against Nazayun is a choice I’ve made on my own.”

“As your mother, I forbid it. Humans don’t take revenge against gods, it never ends well for us. Oh, don’t make that face at me. Your husband is half dragon, he can take care of himself. If he dies, we’ll build an altar in his honor.” Mama’s voice fell to a grave whisper, and her shoulders folded in.

“But if you die…” She swallowed.

“After all we endured with your father, I will not go through that again. I cannot. ”

I let go of my balled fists, and my shoulders fell.

“You wouldn’t have left Baba in Ai’long,” I reasoned.

“You would have seized the first chance to save him, no matter the danger.”

“Your father is our family,” said Mama.

“And Elang is mine.”

She stared at me, drawing a sharp breath.

“Nine Hells, Truyan. I told you to seduce the dragon. I didn’t tell you to fall in love with him.”

“It’s too late for that,” I replied quietly.

Baba turned to Mama.

“A son-in-law is family,” he reminded her.

“Yesterday you said you liked the man.”

“Half man,” said Mama peevishly.

“And I changed my mind. Why should Tru risk her life for him? It’s entirely possible that he’s bespelled her with a potion—”

“Mama.” I gave her a firm shake of my head.

“It’s inauspicious,” said Mama, who had to have the last word.

Baba took her hands.

“Need I tell you a little tale, about two strangers who pretended to be married?”

“I don’t think the children need to hear this.”

“It was during a storm just like this, and they were next to one another, trying to board the last ship out of Jappor to Port Lumsan—in search of rumored gold along the coast. There was but one cabin left, and they were ready to throw punches at each other over it, until they came up with a better idea.”

Nomi’s eyes widened.

“Is that how the two of you met?”

“And fell in love,” confirmed Baba.

“It was different back then,” Mama mumbled.

“Besides, your father was an ordinary sailor. There was no dragon king set on obliterating him from this earth.”

“That dragon king took Baba from us for five years,” I said through my teeth.

“And we’re lucky compared to most. It’s only because of Elang that I found him.”

I could see my mother wavering, and I clasped my hands around hers.

“I’ve got to try. I won’t—I can’t lose Elang.”

“I can’t lose you. ”

“You won’t,” I promised.

Mama held my chin, her eyes scanning my face as though she were reading me.

Then she let out a sigh.

“I knew the typhoon was an omen. Such weather at this time of year! It’s because of you, isn’t it, Tru? Stirring up trouble in Ai’long.”

Without waiting for an answer, she rose.

“Nomi, Falina, gather the merfolk. We have work to do.”

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“You’re not underwater anymore, you can’t just swim around, painting. You’ll need ladders, and a frame to hold the Scroll in place.”

I couldn’t help smiling.

This was the Mama I’d missed.

She was back, just like Baba.

“I’ll have your father design one for you,” she was saying, “and Tangyor will start with the construction.”

Tangyor?

I recognized the name of the man who’d once pushed me out a window, but didn’t expect to hear it here.

Then again, any associate of Gaari’s was also an associate of Elang’s.

I laughed to myself.

First chance I got, I’d seek him out for a reunion.

By mid-morning, everyone in the manor was involved.

Caisan and his turtles discussed the vision I’d painted, deliberating over every daub and mark as they devised a battle plan.

The merfolk scouted the mansion for the longest wall, then cleared it as a space for me to paint.

Mama gave strict orders that I wasn’t to be disturbed.

And so my work began.

I gained a newfound appreciation for my lessons with Shani.

In the hours it’d taken to paint my premonition of the Dragon King, I had captured him perfectly: his scales and horns and whiskers and the breadth of his movement.

But on a canvas such as the Scroll of Oblivion, which had expanded to accommodate the Dragon King’s physical size, my work would require far more detail.

Detail, like the jagged curves of his nails, the tiered layering of his scales, the inflections of silver in his horns—which would separate a portrait from a true rendering indistinguishable from life itself.

I only hoped a week would be enough.

Late one night, Nomi came to find me while I was painting.

She relit the candles that had blown out and observed the shadowy dragon taking shape upon the Scroll.

There was no book under her arm, so I knew something was on her mind.

Something serious.

“Tru,” she started, “have you kissed Elang?”

I startled, feeling a flush come over my cheeks.

Kissing Elang was not something I wanted to discuss with my youngest sister.

“Once or twice,” I admitted.

“Why?”

Nomi frowned.

“I suppose it wouldn’t be that simple.”

“What?”

“Let’s say you’re able to paint the Dragon King into Oblivion. That still leaves you with Elang’s curse. I’ve gone through all the books in the library, but I can’t find anything on how to break it.”

“I don’t think the Dragon King is the sort to leave hints.”

“But Elang is,” insisted Nomi.

I squeezed the water out of my brush, then set it down.

Truth be told, his curse preoccupied my thoughts more than anything else.

It was the reason I had trouble sleeping.

“He wanted me to despise him from the start,” I said slowly, voicing the few hints that I’d gathered.

“I think that’s the real reason he came to me in disguise. As Gaari, he could act more like himself, yet it’d be safe because I’d only ever view him as a friend.”

“Why wouldn’t it be safe for you to like him?”

“I don’t know,” I said with a shiver.

“It must have to do with the curse.”

My sister bit down on her lip, hating that, for all her brilliance and learning, she, too, had no idea how to save Elang.

But Nomi was practical, if nothing else.

She took off her shawl and draped it over my shoulders.

“It’s cold, and too dark in here for you to paint,” she said softly.

“I’ll bring more candles.”

A few hours later, I had a visitor.

I felt the demon’s icy presence right away, crawling through the window and slipping into my workroom.

I thought about calling for Caisan, but I pretended to continue painting.

Shani had taken the form of a small sparrow.

I waited until she fluttered behind my back, one claw reaching for the wooden handle of my Scroll, before I grabbed her.

I held her by the wings over my candle.

“What are you doing here?”

Shani blew out the flame, looking unimpressed.

“Is that how you greet a friend?”

“You’re no friend,” I hissed.

I pointed my brush to the Scroll.

“Try anything and I’ll paint you into Oblivion. I know your watery hide well enough to do it in three strokes.”

Shani scoffed, but the twitch of her beak suggested that she believed me.

“If the Dragon King wanted to abduct you, he wouldn’t need the likes of me. It’d be as easy as drowning you in your sleep.”

“Lies. He sent you because you’re the only one of his minions who can enter this manor. That changes tonight.” My voice rang with authority.

“Now, what do you want?”

The demon melted into water, slipping out of my grip.

She shifted into her phoenix form in midair, coming to perch on one of my paint pots.

“His Eternal Majesty sends his regards. He demands that you return the Scroll of Oblivion.”

“No.”

“In exchange, he will—”

“What?” I snapped.

“He won’t murder my family? I’ve heard all this before; my answer is no.”

“Don’t interrupt,” Shani trilled.

“It’s rude.” The demon cleared her throat.

“In exchange, the Great and Eternal One shall lift the curse that afflicts Lord Elangui of the Westerly Seas and return his pearl to him.”

Thunder cracked the sky, but the clamor of my pounding heart drowned it out.

“He can do that?”

“Gods do as they like.” Shani folded her wings.

“There are terms, naturally. You and Elang must take the Oath of Ai’long and swear your allegiance to the Dragon King.”

“Then what? All will be forgotten, and he’ll give up trying to kill Elang?” I pounded my desk in frustration.

“Really, Shani? You of all demons believe that?”

She shot me a warning look.

“Never has the Eternal One extended such magnanimity. I would advise you to gratefully accept.”

“Never has the Eternal One extended such magnanimity,” I repeated, “because never has he been so close to losing. He’s afraid.”

Shani’s feathers froze into icicles, chilling the air.

“If you do not accept, the Dragon King will smite you with his wrath. You will die, as will everyone and everything you love.”

“I’ll die? If I recall, Nazayun swore not to kill me.”

“There won’t be a curse to break if Elang is dead,” said Shani flatly.

“His promise will be nullified.”

Just like that, the fire went out of me, leaving me cold, beaten.

Shani sneered.

“If you want to save him, you will accept.”

I searched her red eyes, certain I’d find some sign of my friend within.

And what about you?

I thought.

Can I save you?

There was a part of me that still hoped, that still believed she would stay true to us in the end.

“You can tell the Great and Eternal One that I refuse his most generous offer.”

Shani sniffed.

“Stupid krill. Very well, then, I’ll see you at the Resonant Tide.” She spread her wings.

“You’ll have until sundown to save Elang’s heart—and yours.”

Petty as ever, she iced the paints in my pots before she evaporated into the air.

I picked up my frozen paints, placing them near the brazier to thaw.

“You’ll have until sundown to save Elang’s heart,” I repeated slowly, “…and yours.”

It was a taunt, obviously.

But what did my heart have to do with it?

Suddenly, realization hit—so hard I nearly toppled off my chair.

A shiver raced down my spine.

I knew how to break his curse.