Chapter Twenty-Two

It’s only midmorning, but the throne room is crammed so full that I can’t extend an arm without touching someone. Virian hacks a path through the gaggle and tugs Dayen behind her. I follow in their wake, hands fisted so tightly that my knuckles are white. We’re dressed in finery, but the dead flowers we wear in our hair remind me that things are not as they seem.

They’re smiling, but Manay Halna’s familiar reprimands echo in my mind. I shouldn’t be here. The high neck of my gown covers my marks but leaves my shoulders, arms, and lower back bare. I might as well be coated in poison. I keep my arms tight to my sides and hurry after them.

Virian chose to honor her Rythian heritage by selecting a stiff sky blue gown covered head to toe in complicated silver embroidery. She looks radiant. Happy.

The crowd ripples around us, but Dayen doesn’t notice anyone but Virian. The only difference today is that he ran a comb through his hair, but the grin he wears is so wide that it transforms him. He keeps looking down to check that Virian’s hand is still twined with his. I think he’d let her drag him through the Three Hells and still smile.

I am envious of them both, because I wish that some lightness would stick to my heart; that happiness didn’t come in pinpricks and dribbles.

I rub at the nape of my neck. My heavy hair is knotted so tightly into a bun at the base of my neck that it tilts my chin upward and tugs my eyes open. I wish it might pull my lips into a semblance of a smile, but it threatens a headache instead.

“You look like you’re at a funeral.” Virian shakes her head and throws back her shoulders to demonstrate the composure I wish I had.

“I don’t enjoy people looking at me.”

“Then how the Hells will you endure all of Tigang and the continent watching your every move?” Virian teases.

She’s right. The ruler of Tigang entertains foreign diplomats and presides over festivals year-round. Then there are the councils to facilitate, and the parades… The ruler is meant to be the public emblem of our country.

“You would be good at it,” I say. I’m right, too.

Virian sighs and turns me around to face the masses. “You still need to try.”

There is a sea of jeweled bodies before me. I remain frozen in place. The dress I wear is so tight that I am afraid if I breathe too deeply the stitches might come apart. It looks like all of Bato-Ko is in the throne room, and I am a glowing yellow target waiting for an arrow to strike me down.

The yellow will brighten your complexion, she said. It will be fun, she said. I remain unconvinced. If I were Virian, I might turn both into truth, but I’m not.

“Nay, Tay!” Dayen’s hand lifts into the air, and I steal away before I’m forced to make pleasantries with his parents.

I find a bubble of space around a table carved from ice. Metal cups wait atop the table, full to the brim with shaved ice as fine as snow, dripping with sweet cream and jellied toppings. The cool air and the pooling water keep guests away, but soaked slippers and soggy toes are a price I’m willing to bear.

“Cloth merchant?”

I’m not the only one the cold table attracted. I recognize the voice and turn around, red-faced.

Oshar pulls away from her wife, Sayarala. The Turinese woman is dressed in a gown of cream pineapple cloth that coordinates with Oshar’s new shirt and trousers. A golden falcon dangles against the russet skin of Sayarala’s throat, marking her as Turinese royalty. I swallow. I had been too distracted to notice it at Oshar’s party. I wilt under the directness of her gaze as she scrutinizes me now.

“A moment, my love,” Oshar murmurs to her before turning to me. “Your sister performed so beautifully that it felt as if I was there in Arawan. I’m sorry that I never had a chance to thank you properly.”

The thought of my sister is almost too much to bear, and I nod, barely managing a smile. Kuran would have thought this party was Heavenly, and I could have endured it if she was here. She would make a formidable Reyna.

I grab a cup of ice and cream instead of asking Oshar for a blessing, but she doesn’t chide me for it.

Oshar leans forward to whisper. “These parties are such a chore, but at least there are sweets. What was your name again, child? I’m so forgetful these days. You must excuse me.”

I don’t believe her for a moment. Though she says this party is a bore, her eyes seem to drink in every detail, and though she asks my name, I doubt she’s forgotten. Who is this Oshar Toso, who has even Reshar worried? I curse my mother for leaving me so unprepared for Bato-Ko.

“Kuran, Nanay Oshar,” I lie. I know that I am caught when she blinks, but she keeps her thoughts close and does not mention it.

“Good luck to you, child. Though I would not wish the winning on you, I pray that you stay safe.” She turns over her palm, and I recognize a faded mark on the mound of her hand.

“You were a candidate?” I sputter.

Oshar hides her mouth behind a hand, and I realize my error. I drop to my knees and press my forehead to the floor because I’m not sure what else to do. “Evergreen Reyna.”

“Please don’t kneel, child.” She waves her hands, embarrassed. “I was ruler a very long time ago, child. Now I am only Nanay Oshar.” Only. She says it like a joke, knowing full well that she is more than simple.

“I saw the last Reyna. How are you still so…”

“Vibrant?” She laughs. “The ruler of Tigang is a conduit for the power of the Diwata. Channeling that power will erode your life and age you quickly.” She pitches her voice low, for only me to hear. “So you resist. Do not believe everything anyone tells you—not even the lips of Omu herself. Keep your head clear and decide for yourself.”

This is what the Baylan are looking for: someone they can control, someone who asks few questions. My stomach roils. Of course that is what Arisa would want, and if I deny her, she will kill me.

“Use your wits to solve your problems instead of power.” Oshar pats my shoulder, and I flinch from her touch.

“Is everything all right, dear?” she asks.

I do not know if I can trust this woman, but I’ve sensed no guile in her, only a sharp intelligence. No one else might know what truly happens during the Sundo, but she survived with her mind intact. I glance around us, but everyone is drinking deeply or huddled together in conversation. I risk at least one truth. “Candidates and Baylan are going missing, and I don’t think it is part of the tests. I suspect someone here in the fortress cannot be trusted.”

I think of Reshar and his sneers. Between him and Arisa, I don’t know who I trust less.

Oshar pulls my head close to hers. “I have heard rumors. Tigang has enemies, and it makes sense for them to threaten us now. If I hear something more, I will find a way to get word to you. Send for me if you need help or tell your sister to come to me.”

“Beloved,” Sayarala warns. Guests approach, all smiles and fluttering lashes for Oshar.

“I wish you well, candidate. Remember the uncomfortable stories. Those will serve you well here,” Oshar says and meets these newcomers with open arms.

Why does it always come back to stories? I ponder with a frown. Teloh’s dismissal of my telling of Astar and Chaos still makes me burn with shame. I don’t know why that particular tale would make a difference now, and I don’t know what he wanted to hear.

I cannot afford to be weak if I’m to survive the rest of the Sundo long enough to break my mother out, so I fill my belly. I inhale sweet sticky rice buried inside little bundles of leaves and fried rolls stuffed with garlicky meat. I taste sweet steamed yellow cakes and freshly grilled fish. I keep my hands busy and make excuses for not speaking to people with a full mouth.

I lose my appetite when I glimpse Teloh in the crowd.

As always, he’s dressed simply in the black of the Guardians. A kampilan sword sways at his side, and his ceremonial kris is tucked at his waist, but many eyes drift to him. Maybe it’s his manner that draws their eyes, the way he never seems to care what anyone else thinks.

I wish I could walk around with the same assurance.

A space clears around him as if he wears spiny armor like a blowfish, and though he keeps his eyes to the floor, he’s headed straight for me. I feel that tightness in my chest again and remember his lips upon my palm. My first instinct is to run and avoid facing the confused mess of my feelings, but I’m trapped between tables of food and the crowd.

I stand my ground, though I am a river stone nestled in a jewelry box. I’m acutely aware of the bareness of my shoulders and the red finger marks where I’ve scratched at the itching high collar of my dress. The dress hides my birthmarks, but I feel naked without my scarf.

Teloh stops and looks up, startled, as though he hadn’t been paying attention until now. His eyes go first to my neck before flickering up to my face. I wring my hands, unsure what to do with them.

“I…” Teloh pauses a moment. “You look so uncomfortable.”

At least he didn’t say terrible.

“You wanted something?” I don’t sound nearly as confident as I wish I did, but he swallows as if unsure what to say.

Who would we be if we met on the road or on the fields? He, some rich man’s son; me, a poor merchant. He would not speak to me, nor I to him. We would pass by each other and never cross paths again. It’s a useless thought, but I cannot help trying to place him in some concocted history. Nothing fits. In none of my daytime imaginings can I picture the two of us together, with a past or with a future. Only nightmares and uncomfortable visions bring him to mind, and I don’t know what it means about him. Or about me.

“How do you keep finding me?” I ask, frustrated that he hasn’t moved far enough away to offer relief to my flagging heart.

“You’re not easy to miss.” He smiles that sly smile of his, and my feigned confidence evaporates. Whatever unbalanced him a moment ago, he has found his footing again. “I have a talent, you see. I can sense change, and it’s all around you, like a perfume, like a hurricane.” There’s something in his expression that I do not recognize, so full of meaning that I cannot pick it apart. “It’s why Arisa keeps me close. I’m good at finding troublemakers.”

My expression sours, and I curse how terribly I manage to hide my feelings. “So you’re watching me for her.”

“No.” He slides into the space beside me, and at once he’s too close. I can smell him. He is all green things growing and dark soil beneath. His shoulder is nearly touching mine, and to feel his uniform against my bare skin is too much for me. “You are a dangerous distraction,” he says.

I’ve already used up all my patience in politely cutting conversation with strangers, so I glare at him. “Then which one of us will be destroyed this time? If we were enemies in another life, how could you stop it from happening again?”

He does not remove his eyes from mine, though I badly need a reprieve from the intensity of his gaze. My neck is too hot, and my ears burn.

“Perhaps we must try something different, then.” He narrows his eyes in challenge. “Kiss me.”

I blank immediately, looking at his mouth. Why does he have such lovely lips? They’re as full of expression as his eyes. I curse my traitorous brain. I’ve stopped breathing; I force an inhalation. “What?!”

He waits, and I wonder if it’s always been that way between us, like a pile of kindling ready to catch fire. But Arisa… Thoughts of her go scattering, unformed.

I ball my hands, unable to calm my racing heart. This is a dare, not an invitation, but I don’t think I could live with myself if I refused it. My brow is still furrowed when we crash together. It is two hard skulls meeting, and it hurts as though I’ve hit my head against a rock, entirely missing the mark, but before I can recover, he pulls me toward him. His warm hands press against a triangle of bare skin at the small of my back, and this time I fall into his lips. I forget the room, the crowd, and the Sundo. Even my name is a distant memory. It feels like I’ve plunged overboard into a storming ocean. He fills all my senses, and I do not know if I would rather seek the relief of shore or give in and drown.

“Oh…” is the only sound that escapes my lips. When I open my eyes, his are closed still, and his hands have slid into my hair. I can feel his breath on my face, still so close. His heart pulses under the tips of my fingers, where they’ve slid to his chest. Every inch of me burns hot, from my belly to my toes, and I don’t know what to do or what to say.

A space has opened around us now, and even Oshar peers in our direction. But I am not thinking about anyone else. I don’t think I am thinking at all. Everything in my head feels upside down and shaken too hard. I’m glad Arisa is out in the city blessing babies, or houses, or something. I swallow.

“So.” He grins, mirroring my surprise, and I hate how much I enjoy the shape of his lips. I touch my fingers to my mouth to see if the kiss was a memory or a hallucination, but I can still taste the salt of his tongue, and my nose is full of the musk of him. It feels like something I’ve been waiting for—always.

Every part of me is warm and awake, as if some of his breath has given me life. If this goes any further, it will not be a choice between him or me: we will both be destroyed.

But Teloh’s expression closes, and his hand inches toward the hilt of his sword. I follow where his gaze has gone, only to find Tanu arranging plates on a table behind us.

“You know Tanu?” I ask, still reeling. I fight to calm my racing heart.

Teloh shakes his head, as if to clear his, too. “He reminds me of someone I once knew.” He frowns, and for once he looks his age, not so certain, just barely more than a boy. “About as dull as a wooden spoon, too.”

“He’s not so bad,” I say.

“So you can be swayed by blue eyes and shoulders like an ox?” Teloh quirks his lips.

I roll my eyes. I am curious about this new puzzle but am more curious about the shape of Teloh’s lips, and as I recall the taste of him, my cheeks flush again.

“But that is not important. I wish I had just come for a kiss, but I didn’t.” His eyes drift to my mouth, and heat spreads all the way down to my toes. “I came to warn you.”

This is the Teloh I am familiar with. Disappointment returns me fully to the present.

His hands slip away, leaving me cold. He is still so near that I can feel his warmth, but I don’t trust myself with him, with how different the world looks when he is near. This must end now, I tell myself. The Sundo is everything. I must stay in the game, or I will lose my mother and my family forever. And if I do not, I will either forget them all or die.

“On Midsummer, the council of elders passes judgment on those awaiting trial in the fortress. Shora Jal will be sentenced this afternoon. Don’t say anything. Don’t do anything. Please, I beg you.”

“And you kissed me instead of telling me first?” I stare at him, incredulous.

“I didn’t think I would get a chance to if I did. Please…”

His pleading doesn’t reach me. All that consumes my thoughts is that my mother will be sentenced. Suddenly the party, the competition, everyone staring at us, and even Teloh cease to matter. How could I do nothing?