“I’m glad you came to see us right away, Shiori.”
He opened his arms to me, and I practically flew into his embrace, the way I had when I was a little girl. “I missed you, Father,” I whispered.
“And I you, my daughter,” he said. “I prayed every day for your return. It appears the gods heard me.”
I lifted myself from his arms and shuffled back to my place. “I didn’t start a war by barging in on the ceremony, did I? I know the A’landans are mulish about their traditions—”
“You didn’t start a war,” said Father. “At worst, the ambassadors will spread the word about how the youngest princess of Kiata is disrespectful and brash, but I care little what the A’landans think.”
“It’s the truth anyway,” I admitted slyly.
“Is it now? I find you much changed, daughter. You and your brothers.” He touched the prayer plaques that Qinnia had stacked on the corner table, and his countenance turned grave. “A part of my spirit died when you all disappeared. It has only started to return.”
I wished I knew how to comfort him. The father I’d grown up with never needed comforting. He’d always had Raikama by his side.
He said, solemnly, “When you were gone, your stepmother said that she often dreamt you were alive. I took more solace in that than you can know.”
Raikama had told him we were alive? Ironic, given she’d been the one to curse us.
My chest gave a little twinge. “I was with her when she passed,” I said softly. “She told me to tell you she was sorry. She cared for you very much.”
Father’s face drew long and thin, the ghosts hidden in his eyes coming to the surface.
“Your brothers said you left on a journey at her behest,” he said. “One that took you far beyond our realm.”
“To Ai’long,” I confirmed.
“The dragon kingdom…,” he murmured. “I didn’t believe them, but you did look as if you’d stepped out of the sea when you arrived. No one would tell me why you had gone, or why her last wishes would send you to such a place.”
“They didn’t know.”
Father gave a slow nod, understanding. “Your stepmother was good at keeping secrets. I swore to never ask hers, even if at times it was difficult.”
“A promise kept is worth a thousand secrets,” I said, reciting the proverb he used to tell my brothers and me.
“An easy lesson to teach my children. Not so easy to teach myself.” He sighed. “I suppose more of your curiosity comes from me than I’d like to admit.”
I offered him a wan smile. My brothers and I had sworn never to tell Father about the curse Raikama had cast over us, nor that he had married a sorceress. What he believed was that Lord Yuji had ordered his sons turned into cranes and his daughter cast away, and that Raikama had been killed by demons. I yearned to tell him the truth, but the truth would only bring pain.
“One secret burdened her more than any other,” Father went on. “I oft wondered whether it had to do with you, daughter.”
He eyed the paper bird sitting on my window. Kiki was artfully still—which had to be torture for her. If Father remembered what she truly was, he didn’t mention it.
His next words were said quietly. “I have learned, since you were away, that you have a talent for magic.”
He didn’t give me a chance to confirm it. “For your safety, I have done what was necessary to prevent the word from spreading.”
I stared down at my skirt, picking at a loose thread on one of the embroidered butterflies. “That would explain it. The sentinels who found me…They seemed afraid.”
Father tensed, as if he were deliberating whether to console me or tell me the truth. “People are frightened that magic is returning,” he said. “Gindara was put under a deep sleep for over a month, and to this day we know not how it happened. When we all awoke, your brothers had returned, your stepmother was dead, and you…you were missing. Worse yet, they said you were Kiata’s bloodsake.”
He said bloodsake as if it were a curse. “You don’t believe that I am,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. The immolation of a bloodsake is a barbaric ritual that ended at the beginning of my reign. My own grandfather permitted the death of the last one to appease the priestesses of the Holy Mountains. I will not let those heretics take my only daughter, no matter what comes to pass.”
I fell silent, remembering what I had seen in the mirror of truth. “What about the demon Bandur? He’s escaped the mountains and is attacking Kiata.”
Father flinched, caught off guard that I knew. “Kiata is safe. You will be too.”
“But—”
“There are reports that the farmlands are having an arid season, while heavy rains plague our skies, unusual for this time of year in Gindara. If I am called away to more meetings than usual, that is why. This talk of demons is nonsense, nothing but a child’s nightmare.”
“It’s not—”
“It’s a nightmare,” Father repeated. “You’ve only just returned. Do not concern yourself over matters of state.”
I fixed my gaze on the ivory sheet strewn across the ground. He was trying to protect me, that much I knew. I had never known him to lie—not to me, and certainly not to himself.
“Yes, Father,” I said, only so we could change the subject. “But what about Reiji? Is he really leaving next week?”
“It was his decision to go,” replied Father, not without some pride. “Your brothers all vied to save him from such a fate…. Benkai even offered to wed the khagan’s nephew instead.”
“But as the future high commander, Benkai is too important to leave Kiata,” I murmured, understanding Reiji’s reasoning. And if Father sent any of my younger brothers, the khagan would be insulted beyond measure.
It had to be Reiji, the third in line.
“The country is in a fragile state, Shiori,” said Father, “and relations among the warlords are strained at best. Reiji’s marriage to the khagan’s daughter will cement a much-needed alliance with A’landi, and Andahai’s union with Lady Qinnia has brought vast support from the South. Now that you’ve returned…there is also your own betrothal to discuss.”
My heart made a nervous jump. “My own betrothal?”
“Yes, your brothers hinted that you may look upon your intended more favorably than before.” Father stroked his beard. “If that is true, it would be welcome news indeed.”
The way my face flushed was answer enough.
“We’ll discuss it further tonight,” Father said. “Dinner will be in my quarters—to celebrate your return and Reiji’s marriage.”