“Give her a moment,” said Benkai. He crouched beside my bed, patting my back as I drank. Ever gentle and patient, he would have been my favorite brother if only I didn’t see so little of him. Father was training him to be the commander of Kiata’s army, while Andahai was the heir to the throne.
“You worried us, Sister. Come, tell old Benben what you remember.”
I leaned my head back, resting against my bed’s rosewood frame. Hasho had already told them I’d run off because I saw a snake. Should I endorse such an atrocious lie?
No, Andahai and Benkai will only ask more questions if I lie, I quickly reasoned. Then again, I can’t tell them the truth—they can’t find out about Kiki.
The answer was simple. When a lie wouldn’t work, a diversion would.
“A dragon saved me,” I replied.
The corners of Andahai’s lips slid into a frown. “A dragon. Really.”
“He was small for a dragon,” I went on, “but I’m guessing that’s because he’s young. He had clever eyes, though. They were even sharper than Hasho’s.”
I grinned playfully, hoping to lighten everyone’s mood, but my brothers’ frowns only deepened.
“I don’t have time for tall tales, Shiori,” Andahai said crisply. He was the least imaginative of my brothers, and he crossed his arms, his long sleeves as stiff as his waxed black hair. “Of all the days to run off to the lake…you missed your ceremony with Lord Bushian’s son!”
I’d completely forgotten my betrothed. Guilt bubbled to my chest, my grin quickly fading. Father must be furious with me.
“Father is on his way to see you now,” Andahai continued. “I wouldn’t count on your being his favorite to get you out of this one.”
“Stop being so hard on her,” said Benkai. He lowered his voice. “For all we know, it might have been an attack.”
Now I frowned, too. “An attack?”
“There’s word of uprisings,” explained my second-eldest brother. “Many of the lords oppose your marriage to Lord Bushian’s son. They fear his family will become too powerful.”
“I wasn’t attacked,” I assured them. “I saw a dragon, and he saved me.”
Andahai’s face reddened with exasperation. “Enough lying, Shiori. Because of you, Lord Bushian and his son have left Gindara, utterly shamed.”
For once, I wasn’t lying. “It’s the truth,” I swore. “I saw a dragon.”
“Is that what you’re going to tell Father?”
“Tell Father what?” boomed a voice, resonating around the room.
I hadn’t heard my doors slide open, but they rattled now as my father and my stepmother strode into my chambers. My brothers bowed deeply, and I lowered my head until it almost touched my knees.
Andahai was the first to rise. “Father, Shiori is—”
Father silenced him with a gesture. I’d never seen him look so angry. Usually, a smile from me was all it took to melt the sternness in his eyes, but not today.
“Your nurse has informed us that you are unharmed,” he said. “That, I am relieved to hear. But what you have done today is utterly inexcusable.”
His voice, so low the wooden frame of my bed hummed, shook with fury—and disappointment. I kept my head bowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“You will prepare a proper apology to Lord Bushian and his son,” he interrupted. “Your stepmother has proposed that you embroider a tapestry to reverse the shame you have brought to his family.”
Now I looked up. “But, Father! That could take weeks.”
“Have you somewhere else to be?”
“What about my lessons?” I asked, desperate. “My duties, my afternoon prayers at the temple—”
Father was unmoved. “You have never once given a care about your duties before. They will be suspended until you have finished the tapestry. You will begin work on it immediately, under your stepmother’s supervision, and you will not leave the palace until it is complete.”
“But—” I saw Hasho shaking his head. I hesitated, knowing he was right. I shouldn’t argue, shouldn’t protest….Unwisely the words spilled from my lips anyway: “But the Summer Festival is in two weeks—”
One of my brothers nudged me from behind. This time, the warning worked. I clamped my mouth shut.
For an instant, Father’s eyes softened, but when he spoke, his voice was hard. “The Summer Festival comes every year, Shiori. It would do you good to learn the consequences of your behavior.”
“Yes, Father,” I whispered through the ache in my chest.
It was true that the Summer Festival came every year, but this would be the last with my brothers before I turned seventeen and was married—no, cast off to live with my future husband.
And I’d ruined it.
Father observed my silence, waiting for me to beg for leniency, to make excuses and do my best to change his mind. But Kiki’s fluttering wings under my palm compelled me to stay silent. I knew what the consequences would be if she were found out, and they were far worse than missing the festival.
“I have been too soft on you, Shiori,” Father said quietly. “Because you are the youngest of my children, I have given you many liberties and let you run wild among your brothers. But you are no longer a child. You are the Princess of Kiata, the only princess of the realm. It is time you behaved like a lady worthy of your title. Your stepmother has agreed to help you.”
Dread curdled in my stomach as my eyes flew to my stepmother, who hadn’t moved from her position in front of the windows. I’d forgotten she was there, which seemed impossible once I looked at her.
Her beauty was extraordinary, the kind that poets immortalized into legend. My own mother had been acknowledged the most beautiful woman in Kiata, and from the paintings that I’d seen of her, that was no exaggeration. But my stepmother was quite possibly the most beautiful woman in the world.
Striking opalescent eyes, a rosebud mouth, and ebony hair so lustrous it fell in a long satin sheet against her back. But what made her truly memorable was the diagonal scar across her face. On anyone else, it might have looked alarming, and anyone else might have tried to hide it. Not my stepmother, and somehow that added to her allure. She did not even powder her face, as was the fashion, or put wax in her hair to make it shine. Though her maids grumbled that she never wore cosmetics, no one could disagree that my stepmother’s natural beauty was radiant.