Chapter Three

I bolt from my hiding spot without a backward glance and hurtle toward the most raucous street I can find. The Guardian’s haunted expression keeps replaying in my mind. It feels as though I know him, but surely, I’d remember those high cheekbones, those wide lips, and those unusually dark eyes—almost black, as though they swallowed the light. It feels as though he imprinted himself upon my soul with a spell. I don’t even know if that’s possible, but this is Bato-Ko. Anything is possible. Whatever this means, I am not ready to face it.

“Watch out, you clumsy fool!”

I topple a pyramid of apples laid out on a blanket and squash a tray of strawberries as I spin, dizzied by the lingering effects of Alen’s magic.

“Sorry, I…” I toss my last coins at the fruit merchant and grimace back the threatening tears. I slow to a walk, though my every muscle screams for speed. There’s no other way through the crowd.

I spot my sister an eternity later, and a little nervous tension finally leaves my body. Kuran and Tanu huddle together on a small patch of grass, busy catching up after a month apart. Her smile for the traveling musician is so bright that it hurts. I’m relieved to see him, too.

“Did you know that the Baylan were once only women and asog? That changed when we founded Tigang. Now, anyone can become one if they pass initiation,” Tanu says.

“Mmm, how romantic.” Kuran sighs and leans in close to distract him with a kiss. I know she’d rather talk about anything else at all, but Tanu is a repository of odd facts that spill out when he’s nervous. He pulls away from her when he sees my frantic expression.

“There you are, Ate Kuran! Kuya Tanu!” I clasp my hands together and smile so widely that my cheeks hurt. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

My sister clears her throat, and I glare at her. “What’s going on, Narra?”

Two solid-looking Guardians pick their way around the edge of the crowd, questioning merchants.

“Inay is going to be upset if we’re late for dinner!” I squeak. Inay is what we call our mother, and Kuran catches on immediately. She hops to her feet because she knows I’m up to no good.

“You better explain yourself when we get back to camp,” Kuran growls, but she manages to smile convincingly as she drags me down the street by my sleeve. The bells on her favorite anklets chime happily. Tanu presses a sweet bun into my hand in greeting before slipping casually behind us to block me from view. When I’m wedged between the two of them, no one even bothers to glance my way.

The bun feels like an apology, though I’m the one spoiling their fun. Kuran’s mouth is already covered in crumbs, and I catch her licking her fingers even as we hurry.

My sister is all soft curves where I am angles and flat planes. Even her hair waves, while mine remains so straight that no hot implement can tease curls out of it. But our dark brown eyes are the same. They never miss much. She keeps at least three bodies between us and every Guardian in the street. When they get too close, she stops to admire baubles we can’t afford and smiles all the while.

Tanu is attractive by most standards. His foreign Brelish-blue eyes are immediately striking against his dark Tigangi skin, but he doesn’t smile often, and he talks even less, because he is more interested in books than people. I don’t know how he communicates with Kuran, unless swapping spit counts.

They are as different as earth and air, but Kuran still loves him, the way she loves me: with everything.

Tanu checks behind us as we reach the edge of the city. “They’re gone.”

“Okay, spill.” Kuran’s tone is so much like my mother’s that I flinch.

“Inay is awaiting trial in the fortress. It has to be a mistake, and I want to speak on her behalf. Kuya Tanu, do you know of any way to get her back?” Kuran’s silence is dangerous, but I continue. “Bribery?”

“Of course not.” He shakes his head.

Not that it would matter. Between the two of us and our carts full of fabric, we would have trouble replacing a broken wheel. How could we afford to bribe the jeweled Baylan?

“The trials are conducted in private,” Tanu says. He doesn’t sound worried, but he rarely shows what he feels. “The council of first families will decide her fate. Sometimes it takes years for a trial because the sentences are only passed once a year.”

My heart refuses to slow down. My world feels like it’s spinning too fast, and I don’t know where I’ll land.

Kuran sighs. “Just drop it, Narra. Inay chose to leave us. She knew this might happen, and she told us not to interfere in her affairs. I promised her that I would look out for you, and you go sneaking off—”

“You knew this might happen to her this whole time?” I sputter. A seed of anger blooms hot in my belly, and I grab onto it. “And you still let her go?!”

Kuran doesn’t reply, but I know her well enough to read the answer on her face. She was trying to protect me again, even though I didn’t ask for it. I swallow down the growing heat of my temper. It still feels like a betrayal. She should have told me. She should have stopped our mother.

“Leave it, Narra,” she says quietly. “Please. Don’t be so selfish.”

Selfish? I’m the one always busy managing our inventory, our money, and planning how to feed us with scraps. As if things aren’t bleeding hard without our mother. As if she doesn’t also miss her.

Kuran tries to fill in for our mother, but she is full of ideas, not practicalities, and she’s only a little older than I am. The truth is, I need our mother more than she does. Kuran finds friends wherever she goes, and she has the imagination to do anything or be anything at all. I’m the one that’s cursed with a life hidden away. I miss my mother’s calm and the way she always seems to know what to do. I feel so lost and alone without her.

“Kuya Tanu, how often are prisoners pardoned?” I can’t bear to look at Kuran. I rip my arm from hers. There are futures she could pluck if she wanted, and I am only in the way.

He squirms. “It must happen sometimes, or why bother to have a trial?”

I grunt. Not often, then. And why would the council of elders give a care about my mother when her own mother disowned her? A trial would be nothing more than a formal death sentence.

I chew the sweet bun but taste nothing. All my life I’ve been told “Stay out of sight, Narra” or “Don’t ask questions, Narra.” This is no different.

But if no one will help me, I will help myself.

I tug on my scarf and wind it tight. My mother saved for a month to buy the painted blue silk for my sixteenth birthday. It was one of the last things she ever gave me, and I’ve worn it every day since. It makes me feel as though she’s still keeping me safe, even though she is not with me now, even though I am terrified I’ll never see her again.

Inay once told me that bravery only exists when you fear. I’ve hidden my whole life, and it’s time for me to be brave.

The gold and gems are not prizes that appeal to me, but if I entered the Sundo, I could find my mother in the fortress and break her out.

I stride into our hillside campsite and ignore my sister’s glares. From here, I can see all of Bato-Ko, and the glass fortress gleams like a lighthouse at the edge of the city, guiding me to my fate.

There are three days until the competition begins, and I will be there for it.