“Don’t you dare compare me to Spirit. As far as I’m concerned, I have no sister.”
And yet, after another scathing glare, Hana floated the bucket of acid away and lowered Princess Aki to the ground.
What am I doing? Hana asked herself. I need to follow orders. I won’t be weak like I was before.
“Thank you.” Princess Aki exhaled.
Her gratitude—as if they were on the same side—snapped Hana back to her senses.
“Don’t be so hasty in your thanks,” she said. “Emperor Gin is right. You’re a prisoner of war, and I need to treat you like it. I may not burn you with acid, but I’ll still carry out the intent of what he wants.” Hana raised her fist.
The princess cowered.
“This is for defying the emperor.” Hana smashed an uppercut into Princess Aki’s face.
“This is for refusing to support his pursuit of the Evermore.” Hana kneed her in the gut, and the princess doubled over.
“Please . . . ,” Princess Aki gasped. “Please stop.”
Hana scoffed, but she turned as if she were going to walk away.
Then she paused. There’s one more thing that deserves punishment.
“And this, Your Highness, is for bringing up my sister.” Hana whirled, leg extended, then hooked it with vicious flare.
The princess crumpled, unconscious, onto the grotto floor.
A chill of guilt rippled through Hana.
But her anger and sense of righteousness were stronger, and they quickly burned away the cold pang of conscience. She had been too soft in the past, too easy on Sora and Princess Aki, and the mess of that battle in the Imperial City had been the result. Hana needed to make up for it.
She climbed into the emerald orb and sailed away, without bothering to look back.
Chapter Eighteen
After Sora and Broomstick left the next morning, Daemon turned his attention to learning how to use his new magic. It was what he’d wanted from the start, when Sora had decided to return to Kichona. If Daemon could turn into a wolf and use his speed and electricity at will, the balance of power would change between their side and Prince Gin’s. Daemon would be able to fly, and Sora could make them invisible; they might be able to reunite the soul pearl with the Dragon Prince before he even realized they were upon him.
And then Daemon and Sora could kill him.
“Shifting forms is easy,” Liga said. He changed himself from human to giant blue alligator and back again.
“You can’t just do it and not explain it,” Daemon said, frowning.
“Ah, right. The way to transform is . . .” Liga leaned against one of the chestnut trees as he thought through the process.
Fairy busied herself nearby on a set of boulders, which she’d converted into a temporary botanicals lab. Since waking up, she’d already distilled five new potions and was in the process of sun-drying several types of wild herbs.
Liga didn’t move a muscle for a good five minutes. Daemon kept watching him, expecting some explanation on how to manage the shift. But it apparently wasn’t forthcoming.
“You know,” Fairy finally said as she poured black liquid into a vial of red powder, “when humans start sentences, they usually finish them. Within a few seconds.”
Liga looked at her and smiled as if this were fascinating. “Really?”
“Um, yes?” She sneaked a look over at Daemon and mouthed, Are we sure about him?
Daemon smirked. Still, he liked Liga. His brother was a little . . . different, but what did they expect? Unlike Sola, Luna, Vespre, and Zomuri, Liga had never been on earth before. All he knew of mortals were stories he’d been told in Celestae. It also explained why his speech was so odd—deities didn’t speak human languages in the heavens, so talking to Daemon and Fairy like this was a completely new experience for Liga.
“So about the shift?” Daemon prompted.
“You need more conviction,” Liga said.
“Which means?”
“Embrace your identity, and show us who you really are.”
Daemon sighed. Typical Liga, trying to be helpful but coming out nonsensically cryptic instead.
“Wolf, you did it the other day,” Fairy said.
“By accident. I’m terrible at magic—taiga and demigod.”
“I have faith in you,” Fairy said.
“That’s it precisely,” Liga said. “Wolf, you haven’t been able to shift forms at will because you haven’t believed in yourself.”
Daemon grumbled. “To be fair, I haven’t known I was a demigod for that long.”
“A valid point,” Liga said, pacing like one of the Society teachers would in front of a classroom. “But from what I’ve gathered, you’ve not believed in yourself for much longer than that. It’s