“Where are we?” I asked.
Kiki didn’t glance back. Not far from the Tambu Isles.
“So quickly?”
The winds are helping. Only good thing I can say about this storm.
I rested my elbow on the rim of the basket and clutched one of the silk ropes as I gazed down. Dark clouds obscured my view, but if I stared through the gaps, I could make out the hundreds of islets dappling the storm-lit sea. Raikama’s homeland.
A lump rose to my throat, and I swallowed it down, focusing on the distant horizon. We’d have to land before sunrise, or my brothers would lose their wings while still flying over the water.
The rain was growing stronger, and wind pounded the basket, twanging the ropes as if they were zither strings. My stomach dipped, and I ducked down again, reaching for Takkan.
His head lay by my feet, eyes pinched shut. Bandur’s amulet weighed on his chest, heavy as a grindstone, dark and ominous. I wanted to free him of the burden, but I didn’t dare touch it. Another lashing of thunder cracked the sky, but Takkan’s breath barely hitched. I had a feeling whatever he faced in his sleep was far worse.
Gently, I brushed the rain from his cheeks. His skin was cold, and I rubbed his hands in mine, trying to warm them.
The last time I had tended to him like this, I’d hardly known him—in fact, I’d resented his very existence. I had stitched up his wounds with all the care I’d show a pair of old trousers. From the looks of it, he still bore the scars.
Heat rose to my cheeks. Thank the Strands, my brothers were too busy flying to notice me staring through the rips in Takkan’s tunic at his muscles and smooth skin. I’d never hear the end of it.
“I should’ve known it was you,” Takkan murmured, his eyelids blearily peeling open.
“What?” I scooted closer worriedly. “What did you say?”
“All those uneven stitches you made on me.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Same as in the apology tapestry you sent. That should’ve been my hint that it was you, Shiori.”
I couldn’t help my reflexes. I punched his shoulder, probably harder than I should have.
“Did that hurt?” I asked, feeling immediately awful. “Are you”—my gaze went down to the amulet on his chest—“hurt?”
Takkan choked back a laugh. “No. I deserved that.”
His eyes were open now, but they lacked their usual spirit. “You should take my weapons,” he said hoarsely. “I won’t let Bandur hurt you, even if he takes my body—but it’s better to be safe, just in case.”
I bit down on my cheek and gave a nod. I saw only the carved birch bow he’d carried when we’d first met. Painted on the widest part of its grip was Takkan’s family crest: a rabbit on a mountain, surrounded by five plum blossoms—and a full white moon. I picked it up. “Anything else?”
“The dagger on my belt. Two knives in my boot.”
“No sword?”
“Didn’t bring it.”
I gave him a narrow look. “What sentinel doesn’t bring his sword?”
“The one you foolishly bound yourself to.” A small smile touched his mouth. “I’m a better archer than swordsman, anyway. It would’ve been extra weight.”
Fair enough. I stashed the dagger in my sash, then found the knives. I was starting to put them away when the amulet’s chain began to twist around Takkan’s neck.
“He’s waking,” he rasped. “Shiori…get away from me—”
Takkan covered the amulet with his hands, trying to hold Bandur inside. All color drained from his face. His eyes flickered, earthy brown one moment, then red as demonfire the next.
“Takkan.” I reached for his arm, trying to help.
A mistake. Takkan’s gaze was bloodshot, and he grabbed my wrist with a wolf-like snarl. You should listen to your betrothed, Shiori’anma.
I hooked my elbow and sent it flying into his chin, but Bandur was too fast. He shoved me back, laughing gleefully as I fell against the side of the basket.
“Shiori!” Takkan’s eyes flickered back to brown, and he grabbed the Demon King’s amulet, trying once more to tackle him. But Bandur had already won.
Wisps of smoke unfurled from Takkan’s fingers, and his entire body shuddered, all strength leaving him until he crumpled to his knees. Then the smoke flooded out of the amulet, coiling and steaming until it settled into the shape of a wolf.
I plucked Takkan’s bow from the ground, fumbling with one of the blue-feathered arrows.
“He’s stronger than he looks, your betrothed,” Bandur said, prowling along the basket to stalk me. “But every mortal has his weakness. You are his.”
The bowstring chafed against my knuckles, and I gritted my teeth.
“You know your arrows do nothing against smoke, don’t you?”
I nocked the arrow and raised the bow. “Watch me.”
“Here—I’ll stay still for you.” Bandur sat and wagged his tail like a puppy. Even in his most nebulous form, he found a way to mock me.
With a laugh, Bandur dissolved into a shapeless haze. “Clever of the witch to bind you to the pearl,” he said. “But if she thought that would buy you more time from me, she was mistaken. Look. See what you’ve done to it.”
I didn’t need to look. The pearl was more broken than ever, like two halves of a moon connected by the slenderest bridge.
“Will you reach Lapzur before it shatters?” Bandur asked. He blew a puff of air, loosening the streak of white from behind my ear. “It wears on you, Your Highness. I would gladly take its weight off your hands.”
“And free yourself of your oath?” I spat. “I’d rather die.”
“Fortune smiles upon you, then, for that is a rather crucial part of the plan.”
The amulet trembled upon Takkan’s chest, and Bandur began to speak, whispering words of dark magic I could not understand.
I crawled to Takkan’s side and shook him. “Wake up! Wake up, Takkan. You need to return Bandur to his amulet.”
While I tried to rouse him, the birds Kiki had recruited to help fly the basket let out bloodcurdling screeches. All this time, they had flown in harmony, but something had changed. They splintered off in droves, as if spooked.
“What’s going on?” I yelled to Kiki. “Why are they leav—”
My question trailed into a scream. Caught in a tumultuous wind, the basket jolted, throwing me against Takkan as we plunged below the clouds.
The ropes jerked down, twisting and making the basket spin. I fumbled for something to hold on to while my brothers desperately tried to regain control. Even without the other birds, they should have been able to steady us. But something was pulling us down.