the sign of the Pelican as Melu helped me to my feet.
My bloodstained clothes were gone. Instead, a wrapper of green and gold clung to me like a second skin, its fibers too fine to have been spun by human fingers. My arms glowed like they had been polished, and on my chest hung the two masks of Aiyetoro, their eyes shining.
“How?” I asked.
“You found a purpose.” The alagbato reached down with narrow fingers, touching my cheek. “Wanting to be loved was not enough. Devotion to your friends was not enough. But wanting justice—to carve out a new story for this world, no matter the cost—that was enough. No human’s wish may rule you now.”
Tears filled my throat, but I only nodded, reaching for Hyung. The beast knelt, and I lifted myself to sit sideways on its back, unable to straddle it in my gleaming wrapper. “The story’s not over yet,” I told Melu.
He nodded. “Go. There is not much time.”
I whispered to Hyung, and the emi-ehran sprang into motion. We bounded through the palace, crowds of guards and courtiers parting like water. I crossed courtyards, scattering peacocks and splashing through fountains. When we arrived at the towering doors of the Imperial Hall, I slid off Hyung’s back. The warriors guarding the door brandished spears to keep Hyung at bay, and gaped when they recognized me.
“Anointed Honor,” one of them stammered. The warriors wore red bands on their forearms, mourning for the late emperor. “We heard … you were kidnapped by a wicked Songlander. His Imperial Majesty will be relieved at your return.”
I realized with a jolt that they meant Dayo. “I have to see him.”
“Apologies, Anointed Honor, but the Treaty Renewal is underway. Once it’s over, we’re sure the emperor will—”
Hyung let out a deafening yowl, making the warriors leap back. Taking advantage of the distraction, I pushed past them, heart slamming in my chest, and burst through the double doors of the Imperial Hall.
“Stop,” I screamed. “Stop the ritual!”
The heat of a thousand gazes bored into me. Shocked murmurs hissed like wind in a storm, but I didn’t care. Only one person mattered … and when I saw him, every bone inside me threatened to buckle.
Before a sea of courtiers, Dayo stood in his father’s clothes on the dais, just as the premonition on Sagimsan Mountain had shown him. The twelve rulers of the continent stood gravely behind him, while my crowned council siblings watched from the sidelines. Enoba’s shield lay on a gilded stand, and Dayo’s hand hovered over it, a knife pressed to his palm. He froze when he saw me.
“Stop,” I said, sprinting to the front of the hall and evoking protests as I pushed through the kings and queens sharing the dais with Dayo. I seized his wrist. “Don’t do this.”
But before Dayo could respond, slimy voices raised the hair on my neck.
“Hello, killer-girl.” Four abiku stood before the dais, hands interlinked. Their childlike bodies were dusty gray, as though they had rolled in ash, and their pupil-filled eyes glowed pink, like rats. They stood so unnaturally still, I had not even noticed them when I entered the hall. The abiku cocked their heads and spoke in unison. “Again, you interfere with our covenant? Were the lives lost at Ebujo not enough? Still, you thirst for more?”
“You are the ones who thirst for blood,” I spat, then turned back to Dayo. “The treaty isn’t fair. I can’t explain now, but you have to trust me: Enoba rigged it. Kunleo blood overrepresents the Arit realms, so Songland loses every time. If you finish the ritual, thousands of Songland children will die.”
Gasps echoed through the hall, and Dayo recoiled from the shield, dropping the knife on the floor.
“I knew it,” one of the rulers gasped. From her accent, I realized with dread who the person was: Queen Hye Sun of Songland. Wrinkles framed her eyes like dragonfly wings, and gray hair shone from a high coronet. The corners of her mouth were fixed with vast, cumulative grief. “I knew the Storyteller could not have cursed us so.” Her voice shook. “It was the Kunleos all along.”
“Of course it was,” snapped a young woman at her side. She was an unwrinkled version of Hye Sun, and I recognized her sardonic tone: it matched her younger brother’s. I gulped, suspecting that when Crown Princess Min Ja took the throne, relations between Aritsar and Songland would not heal easily. I didn’t blame her.
“Dayo didn’t know,” I insisted. “No one