Village, a masked elder stood in a crop of acacia trees. The brush was still, and the moon bathed us in deathly white. The elder’s mask was female: a round face of ivory bone with red slits for eyes. Its brow had an edge of jagged points, as if to imply a queen’s crown.
“Do … do I know you?” I whispered.
For some reason, I found it difficult to form words. I wished I could identify that smell—its name danced out of reach, like warning bells too faint for hearing.
The elder tilted her mask and bowed. A vessel rested in the crook of her strong, shapely arm. With her other hand, she held out a smooth-handled drinking gourd.
With effort, I shook my head. “I’ve already selected a token. We’re not allowed more than one.”
But my muscles relaxed as another fragrant wave rolled over me. I’d felt this way before. Small. Submissive. My fingers closed around the drinking gourd’s handle, and I dipped into the vessel when she offered it. The liquid was clear amber—not golden, like honeywine.
“What is this?” I asked.
The elder tensed impatiently, pantomiming for me to drink. The longer I stood in her presence, the hazier my thoughts grew. I could think of no objection, no reason to disobey. I brought the gourd to my lips and drank. It was then that I remembered the name of that smell.
Jasmine.
Fire burned over my skin, waking sounds and images that had slept for five years. This will be the day—The Lady will be so pleased—Melu, won’t you come out and play?—When you love him the most, and when he anoints you as his own, I command you … to kill him.
I stumbled back and the gourd fell from my grasp. As the liquid splashed on my open sandals, a sob caught in my throat.
I remembered everything.
The third wish. Our mango orchard. The tutors. The journey from Swana. Kathleen’s warning. Woo In setting the Children’s Palace on fire.
“What have you done?” I gasped at the elder. “What have you given me?”
“Water from Melu’s pool,” she said with a laughing, melodious voice that made my veins run cold. “You wanted to forget. But the ehru inside you knows who you are, daughter. It knows what you were made for.” Then the figure removed her mask, and I was staring into a mirror. A face chillingly like my own: the first face I had ever loved.
The Lady smiled, her brilliant dark eyes glittering with tears. “I have missed you, Made-of-Me.”
She kissed my forehead, and my heart grew as hollow as the drinking gourd. The Lady took my hand. Her wish draped around me like a mantle, and I sighed with horrified relief, like a warrior who had cheated death too many times—a fugitive tired of running.
“I was so hurt when you chose to forget me,” The Lady whispered. “Your own mother. But I forgave you, once I realized the truth. You rebelled because you are me.” She laughed softly. “Strong-minded. Independent. I cannot fault you for mirroring my strengths.”
She smiled, and lay a small silver dagger across my palm. Obediently, my fingers closed around the hilt.
“It is time,” The Lady said, and I nodded. I walked as if through water back to the village. Back to my council siblings—to warmth and innocence and light. You don’t belong here, whispered the pit flames, shadows dancing on my siblings’ faces. And you never did.
WHEN THE PALANQUINS RETURNED TO YORUA Keep, my council siblings were clumsy with honeywine. They slept fully clothed on their pallets, snoring in heaps of jewelry and wax-dyed mantles.
I lay among their sweaty bodies, watching their chests rise and fall. Dayo’s breaths tickled my neck. I listened to the guards change watch as the night grew old.
I waited.
I had promised to wake Sanjeet once the others were asleep. He lay on the edge of the sun-and-stars floor mosaic, backlit by the arched windows. All night, his fingers had searched for mine at the festival, restless and tender. I had teased him into chalice after chalice of honeywine, pretending to drink with him. Now, as he lay across from me in the banquet hall, he Ray-spoke drowsy messages through the dark: Promise you’ll wake me up when it’s time.
I will, I replied.
Sanjeet fell asleep, his mental guard down, and I stole into his thoughts. He was dreaming of Enitawa’s Quiver. I tried to make myself crawl over to his pallet. I tried to feel something. Anything.
But cold emptiness spread like fog through my mind,