In the two days he’d carried the amulet, it had already extracted a toll. He was noticeably thinner, new hollows appearing in his cheeks when he wasn’t forcing a smile. His eyes too became duller and more sunken by the hour, especially past dark.
Takkan let out a faint wheeze as I pulled him toward the hut. Once we’d taken shelter, I brushed aside his hair and wiped his skin dry. That was when I saw the scorch marks along his sleeve.
“What happened?” I whispered.
A low hiss drew my attention to the window, where Ujal lounged against the warped shutters.
“The demon was stronger than I anticipated,” she said as Kiki translated. “But my kin were born to battle his kind.”
“Thank you.” I hesitated. Ujal sounded worn. “Was anyone hurt?”
“Your gratitude is not necessary, nor is your concern. We see it as an honor to fight for Channari’s daughter and guard her betrothed.”
My head was dipped in respect, but I lifted it now, surprised. “How did you know he was my betrothed?”
“Snakes are sensitive to magic. We always have been. And the two of you are bonded.” A pause. “He fought well. Not many can endure a possession as powerful as Bandur’s.”
“Channari chose him for me,” I said before thinking. But it was the truth.
The Serpent Queen was quiet for what seemed a long time. “My father said she was a good judge of character,” she replied at length. “She could see the light in others, whereas they saw only the darkness in her. That was her greatest pain.”
I had felt a bit of that pain last night, in my dreams. My heart still ached from it.
Ujal started to slither down the other side of the wall, but I called out to her: “Wait!”
One last question had been pecking at the back of my mind. “Oshli told me that a demon killed her sister. Was it—” I halted, knowing better than to say Khramelan’s name aloud. “Was he a half dragon?”
Ujal dithered, letting out a long hiss before she skated across the weeds and wildflowers and out the gate.
I turned to Kiki. “What did she say?”
That their fates were once entwined, then they diverged. Kiki shrugged. Whatever that means.
I didn’t understand, either. I’d have to see if Oshli knew more.
Back inside the hut, Takkan was stirring. Sunlight poured over his face, chasing away the shadows in his eyes and bringing a trace of color to his cheeks. I dared think it meant he was better.
I hovered over him, feeling bad as he rubbed his head. “If you’re wondering about why it’s sore,” I said, “I gave you a big thwack on the skull with a bowl.”
“Ah.” Takkan gave a sheepish look. “That would explain it.”
I offered him some water. “I saw the scorch marks. Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine,” he assured me. “The snakes helped. So did the ropes. I’ll tell you about it another day, when my ears aren’t ringing quite so much.”
He was trying to sound wry, but there was an undertone of pain that made my heart both heavy and light all at once, and I bumbled for something to say. Failing at that, I kissed his cheek.
His skin was warm. Warmer still when my lips left it. I basked in the astonished look he gave me. “What was that for?”
“To make sure you haven’t turned into a demon.” I pinched his chin playfully. “Demons don’t blush.”
A corner of his mouth lifted, and I felt a sense of triumph.
Now I know what it was like for him all of last winter, trying to make me smile, I thought.
He rocked forward to get up. “Are there cakes left? Seems I forgot to eat yesterday, and battling all your demons has burned a hole in my stomach.”
“All my demons?” I crossed my arms. “You’re the one they’re attracted to, and you had an army of snakes helping you.” I bit down on my lip. “You’re actually hungry?”
“I could eat. I should eat.”
“Have some, then,” I allowed. “But have more than cakes—too many sweets for breakfast will make you slow, and how will you defeat all my demons if you have indigestion?”
Humor flecked Takkan’s eyes.
“Eggs will be good for you,” I went on, encouraged. “Oshli brought some yesterday, along with fish. I was planning to prepare them for our flight to Lapzur, and I could use some help. That is, if your lordship learned to cook while growing up in Iro’s tundra?”
“All of us sentinels learn the basics.”
“Good. Then you steam some rice and eggs while I make the fish. Kiki’ll chase away the lizards and fruit flies.” I rose, passing him the sack of rice and nudging him toward the stove. “I’m not letting us face any more demons on empty stomachs.”
* * *
Overnight, my brothers had become Sundau’s most popular attraction. When Takkan and I arrived at the shrine, half a dozen village children were crowded around the cranes, feeding them berries and rice kernels.
Hasho was among my brothers, and he clamored for his share. It buoyed my spirits to see him so animated. If not for his darkened wing, I would have forgotten about Bandur’s attack.
He looks well, remarked Kiki. Fatter than yesterday, too. Maybe I should’ve stayed in the shrine instead of loafing about in that old haunted hut with you.
As I glowered at her, Oshli appeared.
“I was wondering when you’d show up,” the shaman said. A cloth bag hung over his shoulder, and he tucked it to the side. “Make haste. The children may delight in your brothers, but I assure you, their parents are already plotting to stew them for dinner.”
That got me moving, and quickly. I whistled for my brothers to follow.
It wasn’t easy herding six overstuffed, excitable cranes into the jungle, but once their breakfasts had digested a bit, their minds seemed to sharpen.
The opposite was true with me. The deeper we ventured into the forest, the more my thoughts wandered. I felt clumsy here, tripping over the looping vines and meandering ferns—and my flesh was bait for the mosquitoes. I couldn’t have been farther from home, from what I knew and loved. And yet, part of me wasn’t ready to leave.
One day in Raikama’s homeland had only ignited my curiosity about her past. I wanted to stay and learn about the girl she had once been, but the pearl couldn’t wait. Neither could Takkan.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked, walking by my side while my brothers flew ahead. “Raikama?”
I grimaced. “Am I that easy to read?”
“Easier than when you had a bowl over your head.”
“You’re never going to forget that, are you?”
“Never.”