stronghold that no one may see or hear.’ Not unless she desires it.” And if I could see those red rooftops, then The Lady wanted me to return. She wanted to keep me, as she had for years, in that windowless study. Her caged bird. Her Made-of-Me. I swallowed, stepping back.
“I’ll go in the morning,” I told Sanjeet. “It’s … easier to search by daylight.”
Melu’s canopy arched over downy bedrolls on raised pallets. He had summoned satin pillows and baskets of dates and kola nuts. They were scattered on straw mats so fine, sprites must have woven them. Somehow, the canopy shielded us from mosquitoes and gadflies, and probably beasts as well, though Sanjeet still kept a scimitar by his pillow as we slept. I woke the next morning with my head on his shoulder, and his arm across my torso.
Mortifying, I thought, and did not move an inch.
Sanjeet’s lashes twitched. Like me, I realized, he was too still to be truly sleeping. Mutually caught, we fumbled apart.
“Don’t be shy on our account,” called a familiar cheeky voice. “It’s nice to see you two have made up.”
Sanjeet’s scimitar leapt into his hand, and we were both on our feet in seconds. Two figures, one tall and sullen, and one short and merry-faced, approached our canopy.
“Kirah!” I cried at the short figure, delighted. “And … Woo In?”
They rode a catlike beast that sent thrills up my spine. The luridly bright leopard was the size of a horse, each paw the width of two human hands. Its wily yellow eyes glowed even in daylight. I exhaled through my teeth. I had not seen Woo In’s emi-ehran since the day the Children’s Palace had burned. It was no wonder Woo In had survived the Underworld with that as his protector.
Sanjeet tightened his grip on his scimitar, lowering into combat stance. “Wait,” I said, touching his arm. “I know that beast.”
Kirah waved and hopped down from the emi-ehran’s back. A bandage covered one of her hands. Along with her gauzy prayer scarf, she wore the clothes of a Blessid priestess: a sand-colored tunic and pantaloons. They blew about her in a strangely sudden wind as she ran toward us. Sanjeet lowered his blade in confusion.
“You’re all right,” she gushed, suffocating us both in a hug. I inhaled her scent of cinnamon, dizzy with surprise and happiness. I had wondered if I would ever see Kirah again. Her cheek was hot against mine, and her lips were chapped and swollen.
“You’re sick,” I fretted. “Kirah, you’re burning up.”
Better by the second, she Ray-spoke, and Sanjeet and I replied in our minds, coaxing the jaundice of council sickness from her skin.
“I can’t tell you,” she whispered, “how good that feels.”
“Your fever’s going down,” said Sanjeet, scanning her with his Hallow. “Thank Am you’re no worse. How long have you gone without the Ray?”
“Only two weeks.”
“Only two?” I scolded. “You could have gone mad!”
“That doesn’t happen for a month. At least, that’s what he says.” She tossed her head back at Woo In. “And he would know. But never mind that. Tar, I’ve never seen you wear your hair loose; it’s glorious.”
Sleep had flattened my puffy coils. I pulled at the hair in fistfuls, restoring its cloud shape, then crossed my arms. “You won’t change the subject that easily,” I said. “Why are you traveling with Woo In? Why are you here at all? How did you find us?” My fingers rose, itching to seize the answers from her memories. “Is Dayo—”
“Dayo’s fine,” she said, laughing and batting my hand away. “Only a scar left. And our whole council was summoned to An-Ileyoba, so I had to come fetch you and Jeet. As for Woo In—” Acid flashed in Kirah’s large hazel eyes. “Well. He’s using me. At least, that’s what he’s been telling himself.” She added in a stage whisper, “It’s not working out very well.”
Woo In descended from his mount, haughtily graceful as always, but he winced at Kirah’s words. He looked … guilt-ridden.
“What in Am’s name is going on?” I snapped at him. “What are you doing with my council sister?”
He bowed, using that gossamer voice I had once known so well. “It has been too long, Lady’s Daughter.” He looked much sicker than Kirah, with sunken cheeks and dry, wan lips. Along with the purple veins of the Underworld, fever sweat shimmered on his bare chest. Coughing, he patted the emi-ehran’s flank. “You remember Hyung.”