I shot him a dirty look. Usually I could count on Hasho to be on my side, but during my months away, my brothers and Takkan had formed a lasting friendship. They wouldn’t take my side against him.
Kiki wasn’t helping either. I can recruit other birds for assistance, she offered, if it’s Takkan’s weight you’re worried about.
“That isn’t it…,” I said.
Then? Kiki and my brothers asked at once.
I leapt from my chair in frustration. “He can’t come with us,” I repeated vehemently. “The Tears of Emuri’en showed me the future. If Takkan comes, Bandur will kill him.”
It took a beat before my brothers reacted. Benkai, the second-eldest and gentlest brother—at least toward me—came first to my side. “So that’s why you’re upset,” he said. “It all makes sense now. Let me guess, you haven’t told him?”
“Of course not. He’s a courageous fool. He’d insist on being a hero.”
“That courageous fool can hold his own in battle,” said Benkai. “I don’t say that about many men.”
It was true that Benkai rarely praised another’s fighting skill, but I wasn’t swayed. “Bandur isn’t like the other demons.”
“Don’t begin your life together with a lie,” said Hasho quietly. “Tell him what you saw. Whether or not he comes should be his decision.”
“Hasho’s right,” said Andahai. “Tell him the truth, Shiori.”
“You’re one to talk,” I countered. “You sent him away with Qinnia.”
“My wife has no place in this conversation,” Andahai said. “She’s in a delicate state.”
“A delicate state? What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing,” said my eldest brother too sharply. “My wife’s well-being is a private affair. Takkan’s involvement concerns all of us.”
I started to argue, but Wandei cut into the conversation. “You love Takkan,” he said matter-of-factly, like he’d just informed me that all of us were breathing air. “We can’t always protect those we love by shutting them out. That was Raikama’s mistake.”
His words stung me into silence. I was used to my quietest brother appealing to logic and reason, not to my heart. It took me aback, and my shoulders sank in defeat.
“I’ll tell him,” I said weakly.
It wasn’t a lie. Yet the words lodged in my throat like three sharp thorns, stuck until the truth set them free.
As promised, I sent for Gen the next day, braving Father’s displeasure at me for sneaking out to make the case that the young sorcerer had saved me from the ambush in the mountains. A half-truth, but it seemed to appease Father slightly, and the joy on Gen’s face when he arrived was worth the trouble.
“Finally, the imperial palace!” he exclaimed, his voice high with excitement. “It’s just as grand as I imagined. Cleaner too.”
I couldn’t help smiling. The boy’s company was a welcome distraction from the dark thoughts that haunted me. “I would’ve guessed that with your worldly experiences you’d have been to dozens.” I cocked my head. “You make it sound like this is your first.”
Gen attempted a grin, but the effort made him wince. “It is, if you don’t count the Dragon King’s. I hardly saw anything aside from the dungeon…and Elang’s abode is more like a cave than a palace.”
“Such standards,” I teased. “Trust me, life in the palace isn’t as exciting as it sounds. You’ll be wishing you were back in the camp by the end of the week.”
“I doubt it. I look forward to court.” He dusted his sleeves, then straightened so he was nearly as tall as I. “Are there parties I can attend? Any festivals or banquets?”
“Not really. There won’t be a Summer Festival this year.”
“Not even a banquet for your brother’s wedding?”
“There was only a small, private ceremony. My stepmother passed not long ago. We are still in mourning.”
“Ah,” Gen conceded. “So why all these weddings in quick succession? Andahai’s, Reiji’s, then yours—”
“Father has no choice but to marry us off. Kiata is still healing from Lord Yuji’s rebellion.”
“I see…to secure alliances and such. It’s the same story in all kingdoms.” Gen stifled a yawn, as if the very thought bored him. “I don’t envy you royals, but at least you have Takkan—where is he?”
“In a meeting with the ministers.” I quickly changed the topic. “How’s your nose? You still don’t want to see the physician?”
Gen wheezed. “I’ll do a better job of healing it than your doctors.”
“Suit yourself.” I gestured at the cobbled path ahead. “Your villa is in the south court. I’ve made it known that you’re my guest, so no one should bother you. Try to stay out of trouble.”
Demons take me, I was starting to sound like Andahai. Usually I was on the receiving end of such warnings.
“You’re not going to give me a tour?” cajoled Gen. “At least show me where the library is. I’ll find materials for you. You could use some magic lessons, you know.”
I thought of Seryu and our lessons by the lake. How he’d once made a flock of birds out of water, and taught me to resurrect Kiki after Raikama tore her to pieces.
“I’d like that, but it’ll have to wait,” I said with an apologetic shake of the head. “I have a full day ahead—my reward for sneaking out yesterday. A morning packed with more ceremonies for Reiji’s wedding, then a fitting with the imperial seamstresses for my own betrothal.” I tried not to make a face about the fitting. “Then I have to see Qinnia.”
“The crown princess?”
I was impressed he knew. “Wandei asked me to give her my sturdiest robes. For what, he won’t say. He can be secretive when he’s plotting something.”
“You’re not looking forward to seeing her.”
I wasn’t. I’d seen Andahai’s wife with my brothers and at morning prayers, but since my first night home—when I’d nearly stabbed her with my eating sticks—I’d been avoiding her, and I sensed the effort was mutual.
She’s in a delicate state, Andahai had said.
I could read between my brother’s words: she must have been traumatized by Bandur, thanks to me. She must hate me. I didn’t blame her.
“What’s wrong?” said Gen. “You look sick.”
“I’m just hoping I won’t have to sew,” I said. A deflection, but it wasn’t untrue.
“Understandable,” responded Gen. “It’s a tedious craft.”