Page 113 of The Dragon's Promise

Seconds passed, and the glass only misted over with humidity.

Kiki wrinkled her beak. Some magic mirror. I hope Elang is getting more use out of it than you.

I shrugged. “Lady Nahma told me it would show only what it wants me to see. Perhaps the past is better kept in the past.”

Is it? I never took you for a sage, Shiori.

My face crinkled into a small, tired smile. “Not that I don’t have suspicions.”

You think the blood is the Wraith’s.

I did, and I finally lowered the spear. Takkan had returned, carrying two buckets of water.

“That looks like it’s impaled a demon or two,” he said, gesturing at the spear.

“It was Raikama’s,” I replied. “Oshli says she wielded it to fight the demon that killed her sister.”

Before he could ask more, I steered him into the kitchen. “I saved you cakes. Eat them before they spoil.”

Takkan picked one up from the plate. “These are Channari’s cakes. From the song.”

I nodded, impressed that he remembered. “Of all the islands and all the villages in Tambu, we came to hers,” I murmured. “And here I am, baking her cakes in her childhood home.”

“Your strand of fate is tied more closely to hers than anyone’s.”

“Even yours?” I teased.

Takkan parted his lips, but no reply came. Dusk was fast approaching, and the shadows grew bold. They crept out of the cracks in the walls, draping a film of darkness over the house. When they touched Takkan’s eyes, his gaze blackened, like a light extinguished.

He set down the cake and took a step back, resuming his distance from me. “You should get the ropes.”

I didn’t waste a beat. I grabbed the ropes and incense Oshli had left. Together, we tied him to the tree in the courtyard. I couldn’t help but think of the threads we’d tied around our wrists just days before. About how those knots had been made with love and laughter, while this one, which I tightened against Takkan’s chest, was made with fear.

Were he in my place, he’d find some story to tell to ease my mind and distract me from my ordeal. Stories about monkeys with magical hair, carp that granted wishes, and brushes that painted objects into life, as in the letters he’d written me. Yet I was useless. My throat had constricted in worry. All I could say was “I’ll prepare a fire to light the braziers.”

He didn’t even eat, remarked Kiki as I returned to the kitchen.

I swallowed hard, picking up his untouched cakes. Let him be.

I was looking for something to strike a fire with and accidentally yanked aside the muslin cloth hanging against the wall. Behind the curtain was a broken stool—the very one Oshli had mentioned. I leaned my stepmother’s spear against the wall, giving my shoulders a break from its weight.

Don’t look so dour, Kiki said, trying to cheer me up. With Takkan tied up to that tree, you’ll get the bed all to yourself. There’s only one in this whole house, and—

I didn’t know why I flushed. “That isn’t it,” I said curtly.

Is it the blood, then? Kiki was in a gossipy mood, which was nothing unusual. She landed on the spear, pecking at its warped grooves as I searched the room. I could have sworn I’d seen a stash of flint somewhere.

You really think Vanna was killed by—

Too late, I felt a stab of panic. “Kiki, don’t say his na—”

Khramelan?

Too late. The name had been uttered, and I shot up to my feet, adrenaline rushing to my head. I clamped down on Kiki’s beak and glanced outside, heart speeding in my chest. The sun was nearly sunk, and Takkan’s back was to me.

What’s the matter with you, Shiori? Kiki trilled. Takkan can’t hear me anyway.

“It is not Takkan I’m worried about.”

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