Page 37 of Her Radiant Curse

Anyway, I can’t run. Adah’s betrayal has turned my legs to jelly and my nerves to ice. I think of Mama lying on the bed, of Adah howling when she died. The blood blooming and blooming on the sheets, and my last night of thinking I was her moon-faced girl.

“He was always going to send you away,” Dakuok goes on. “He kept you only because of Vanna. But now she’s leaving, and as a future queen, she won’t have time to think of you, her wretched, monstrous sister. You see, Channari, there’s no use for you anymore.”

Hate boils inside me. I remember every time Dakuok has encouraged the village boys and girls—even his own son—to throw rocks at my back, has pushed the idea into Adah’s and Lintang’s heads that Vanna be auctioned off.

I ram two of Dakuok’s priests into each other, clapping their heads together like thunder. Then I reach for the paring knife on my hip—and drive the blade across Dakuok’s face.

He screams. High and shrill, like a child. The sound makes me falter, for I would never hurt a child. But when I hold him down, my palm pressing against his two slippery eyebrows, my rage rushes in again and spurs me to action. I press my knife down harder, as if I’m scraping sap from a tree.

He has impressive lungs. Some of the candles shudder from his howls, and a few even go out. Finally, when my knife slices across his lip, he goes silent. I think he faints from the shock.

That’s enough. I need to run.

The doors are bespelled, so I can’t get past. But like I said, Dakuok and his priests are third-rate magicians, and they didn’t enchant the windows. I smash through the wooden lattice and vault into the courtyard.

I run straight, and before long I see the gate. I can hear the birds outside squawking, I can smell the heat of the afternoon beyond the temple’s cool walls. Only a few more steps and I will be free.

It never occurs to me that I should have asked who Adah sold me to. Because deep down, I already know….

“How many priests does it take to catch a snake?” rumbles a familiar voice.

King Meguh sidles to the front of the temple, surrounded by a troop of men that block the gate. He claps, as though my escape attempt were a performance and I have entertained him.

His men have swords at their sides and bronze shields strapped to their backs, but none of them makes a move to draw their weapons. I should find that odd, but I’m too preoccupied by Dakuok’s damned priests.

“The snake girl’s disappeared!” one shouts.

I don’t need to look to know where Ukar is. I can feel him, slowly slithering above us, crawling along a wooden beam. We’ve hunted together for years, Ukar and I, and now that King Meguh has arrived, Ukar’s counting on me to keep him busy. When the time is right, he will swoop down from the ceiling and bite Meguh’s neck, paralyzing him.

And I will deliver him the death he deserves.

I mark the closest guard as my first target. The urgency of my task forces my mind to work quickly, and I launch my attack. I fell the man with one hit, then move to the next guard, and the next. Soon I’m halfway across the courtyard, inching closer to my victory and escape.

Except I don’t see the dragon.

In a whir of blue, he smashes through the rafters, dropping down before me. Debris rains, wooden tiles collapsing from a roof in one of the covered walkways. Meguh and his guards have already moved to the sides. This was planned.

I shield myself with my arm, try to fan away the dust obscuring my vision. Where did the dragon go?

A wing slams into my side, answering my question. My knife flies from my hand and I crash against the wall, toppling the statues around me. I duck under an altar before I’m crushed.

There, I suck in a desperate breath. I can feel Ukar hanging from a wooden beam, offering to help. I don’t look at him, for fear the dragon might notice. I can handle this alone.

The dragon’s waiting for me to get up. Like earlier, I can feel that our minds are connected, as if tied by some invisible string. I tap into his thoughts. Stop this. We can help each other.

His response is to land a punch in my ribs. I double over, the wind knocked out of my lungs. He was definitely holding back earlier. I’m sure of it; he let me win.

Well, he’s not letting me win now. Something is off. Something is different about him this time.

He grabs me by the shoulders. I kick, I bite. But his skin is tough as a crocodile’s hide, and my teeth do not even draw blood.

I twist around in his grip so I’m facing him. In the jungle, I’ve often felt small compared to the trees, the winding vines, the falling waters. But never have I felt as helpless as I do now: being forced to size myself up to this dragon, to confront the interminable breadth of his wings and his dominating height, the dark expanse of his face, with those two strange eyes. And it arrives at last: what is different since last we fought.

His movements are confident, unfettered. Because—

He’s no longer chained.

Meguh is beaming as he sees the realization dawning on my face—that the dragon wasn’t imprisoned at all, that he might not be a prisoner, but a…a…

---