I nearly jumped with joy. Thank the Eternal Courts, that meant I was free!
Exuberantly, I put away my needles and threads. I wanted to find my brothers to celebrate, but magic was exhausting work—mentally and physically. I ended up dozing on my bed until Guiya, one of my maids, summoned me to dinner.
She was new, with blank eyes, a forgettable face, and an exasperating obsession with dressing me, down to the last detail, in attire befitting a princess—a task my previous maids had long since given up. In her arms was a set of ornately tailored robes, sashes, and jackets I had no desire to wear.
“Your clothes are wrinkled, Your Highness,” she said. “You can’t leave your chamber looking like that.”
I was too tired to care. Ignoring her pleas, I ambled to dinner, practically collapsing into my place beside Hasho and Yotan. I could hardly get through the first course without nodding off.
The cushions under my knees felt extra soft, and I swayed, lulled by the flowery aroma of freshly brewed tea. Hasho elbowed me when I slumped and knocked over my tea.
“What’s wrong with you?” he whispered.
I ignored him, raising my sleeve as the servants cleaned the spill I’d made. “Father,” I called, seeking his attention. “Father, may I please be excused? I’m feeling unwell.”
“You do look paler than usual,” Father said, distracted. His mind was elsewhere; meetings with the council had been running long, though Andahai and Benkai would not tell me why. He dismissed me with a nod. “Go, then.”
My stepmother watched me strangely. “I will walk her out.”
I looked up in horror. “No, I’m—”
“At least to the hall,” she insisted.
She didn’t speak until we reached the end of the corridor. “I’ve been thinking about that dragon you said you saw,” she said in a low voice. “They are dangerous, untrustworthy beasts, Shiori. If you’ve come across one, you’d do best to stay far, far away. It is for your own good.”
I hid my surprise. Had she actually believed me?
“Yes, Stepmother,” I lied. As soon as I returned to my chambers, I collapsed onto my bed.
What did Raikama know—or care—about what was good for me? By the gods, she made it her mission to sow my life with unhappiness.
As my head sank into my pillow, and the sleep spirits came for me, I made a drowsy promise to myself:
Tomorrow I’d finally ask Seryu to show me how to bring Kiki back.
* * *
“Why are you so surprised she believes you?” said Seryu, chewing lazily on a fallen magnolia branch. “Dragons are real—everyone knows that.”
“None of my brothers believe me, not even Hasho,” I persisted. “And I’m not surprised—I’m worried she’ll tell my father.”
“If she hasn’t already, I don’t see why she would bother.”
“You don’t know Raikama.” I dug my nails into the dirt, certain she was withholding the information to use against me later. The same way she’d disapproved of a match with Lord Yuji’s son, and insisted on sacrificing me to the barbarians in the abysmal North.
“Maybe she’s having you followed,” Seryu said wickedly. His hair was entirely green today, and he sported horns I hadn’t noticed before.
“Followed?”
He rolled onto his side, peering at something crawling over the bowl we used to mark our meeting spot. Then, with a claw, he picked up a water snake and held it close to my face. “Here’s one of her spies.”
I screamed, leaping to my feet. “Gods, Seryu. Take that away!”
“Relax. She’s harmless. Just a little water snake.” He wrapped the snake around his head, where it lounged over his horns. “See?”
I still wouldn’t go near him.
“I was joking about her being a spy, Shiori,” said Seryu. He made a hissing sound, and the snake’s tongue darted out as if in reply. “She was just curious to see a dragon by the lake.”
“You can speak to it?”
“Her. And yes, of course I can. Dragons and snakes are related, after all, and serpents of all kinds are sensitive to magic.”
That I didn’t know. “I don’t like snakes. They bring up bad memories.”
“Of your stepmother?”
“She has hundreds roaming her gardens,” I replied by way of explanation. “My brother dared me to steal one once, and she caught me.” My voice went tight at the memory.
“Snakes remind her of home,” Father would tell the ministers who frowned upon her unusual pets. “Honor her wishes as you would honor mine.”
It was what he told us children as well, and we had obeyed. At least until Reiji had dared me to steal one.
“You’re the one who’s terrified of snakes, not me,” I told him. “Besides, I promised I wouldn’t go into her garden without her.”
“Are you afraid you won’t be her favorite anymore if she catches you?”
“I’m not afraid of anything.”
It was true. Raikama was fond of me. She wouldn’t mind if I borrowed one snake.
The next afternoon, I stole into her garden, moving slowly so as not to startle the snakes. But their eyes—all yellow and wide and unblinking—unnerved me. I was only twenty steps into the garden when a small green viper started wrapping around my heel.
“Go away,” I whispered, trying to kick it off.
But more joined, and soon a dozen snakes surrounded me. No, a hundred. They hissed and bared their fangs. Then a white snake hanging from a tree branch lunged for my throat.
With a scream, I jumped for one of the trees, climbing as high as I could. But the snakes followed, and my pulse spiked with fear. I braced myself for a fatal bite.
Suddenly the garden gate opened, and Raikama appeared. The snakes slithered back like a receding tide.
I was practically weeping. “Stepmother, please forgive me. I don’t know how I—”
A withering glance was all it took for her to silence me. “Leave,” she said coldly.
Never once had Raikama raised her voice at me. In shock, I nodded numbly, slid down the tree as fast as I could, and ran away.
“Ever since then, she’s hated me,” I said to Seryu with a shrug.
My nonchalance was feigned. To this day, I didn’t understand why that moment had ruined everything between my stepmother and me, and I cared more than I pretended to. But no one, not even my brothers, knew that.