are you carrying a dagger, Maia?”
I looked down. I was wearing my usual navy dress, with a sash for my needles and scissors. But Sendo was right—a dagger hung at my side.
There was something familiar about it, but the memory teetered at the edge of my thoughts…ready to slide off and never be recalled again.
I bit my lip. “I don’t know.”
“Give it here,” Sendo said.
Obediently, I handed it to him. My brother stood and walked to the window. I followed, basking in the warm sunlight. The day outside was perfect. I could see the merchants’ carriages parked along the road, and children playing with dragon kites.
Sendo twirled the dagger’s silken cord. “It looks valuable. The hilt’s walnut, and the scabbard is laced with a silver stone of some sort. Meteorite, I’d say.”
“Meteorite?” I repeated. “Like from the stars?”
My stomach flipped, again with that pang of having forgotten something. Sendo tried, but he couldn’t unsheathe the dagger.
“Here,” I said. “Let me try.”
The dagger was light in my hands, and the cord was dirty with sand. Strange, I didn’t remember dropping it. Then again, I didn’t remember much of anything about the dagger.
“Jinn,” I uttered, and the scabbard released. The blade, half iron and half meteorite, flashed, catching the sun and nearly blinding me.
I shielded my eyes, and Sendo took the dagger from me.
“What was that?” he said, looking impressed. “You said something.”
I shrugged. “Some nonsense word. I guess it unlocks the scabbard.”
Sendo admired the blade by the candlelight, studying its two different sides. The metal side gleamed, while the stone edge glowed, so brightly the glare made my brother shield his eyes. “I’ve never seen a double-edged blade like this. Did someone give this to you?”
The question took me aback. “I…I don’t know.”
“Don’t let Keton see it,” he said, sheathing the dagger and putting it on the table beside him. “He won’t give it back.”
Suddenly, the sky darkened. Only minutes ago, the sun had bathed Baba’s shop, but now night fell upon us. Thick clouds drifted above, obscuring the moon, but I could see it was full and bright, as if it held a net of stars and they were about to explode into the sky.
“You aren’t going to leave us, are you?” Sendo said.
“Leave?” I repeated. “Where am I going?”
“Your memory is terrible today, Maia. The emperor invited you to become his tailor. You’re supposed to decide tonight. That’s why Mama is cooking for you. She doesn’t want you to go. Neither do I.”
“The emperor?” I repeated, blinking. “And the stars…”
What was I forgetting?
“Maia?” Sendo’s lips twisted into a scowl I’d never seen him wear before. His voice grew thick, slightly impatient. “Maia, are you listening to me?”
Sendo was never impatient. “What’s wrong?”
“You need to decide. Are you staying or are you going?”
“I don’t want to leave the family—”
“Then don’t,” Sendo said sharply. “Stay here.”
I stared at the ground, then lifted my head. Someone had told me to get rid of that bad habit. Who was it—Keton? Why would Keton say that to me? He never talked to me unless it was for a prank. But I remembered his voice. He’d sounded so sad…so grown-up.
“You look unhappy,” Sendo said, opening his arms to me. “Come here, sister.”
I started to reach out. “Wait.” I frowned. “I’m not supposed to touch you.”
Sendo laughed. It wasn’t his usual, carefree laugh. I heard an edge of irritation in it. “What?”
I tried hard to remember. I think there’s something I’m supposed to—
A gust of wind stroked my hair. I looked outside and saw a black bird with white-tipped wings. A hawk.
Something sharp stirred in me. “Edan.”
“What did you say?”
“Edan,” I whispered again. What did that mean? Why couldn’t I remember?
Sendo took slow steps toward me. He’d taken the dagger and pointed it at me. “Little sister, you’re acting strangely.”
Shadows danced along the walls. The sun had disappeared, but now so had the moon and the stars.
“Sendo…,” I said. “It’s dark.” My voice sounded small. “I’m going now.”
My brother moved to block the door. “You’re not going anywhere.”
His lute vanished, along with the window and the bed and the little bamboo stool by his dresser. As if they’d never been there.
Then his eyes sank into his skull, flaring red. In the dark, they glowed like rubies. Red as blood.
I held back a scream. “You’re not Sendo!”
“No,” he rasped. My brother’s skin withered before me, and his hair grew long and wild. Gray fur coated his skin, and his eyelids folded back, pupils constricting