Page 7 of Her Radiant Curse

In the morning, she was dead. And no one called me beautiful again. Not for a long, long time.

CHAPTER TWO

Seventeen years later

It is the perfect morning to hunt a tiger.

Last night’s rain still shimmers over the earth, and all around, bouquets of jasmine and moon orchids have blossomed. I’m counting on their perfume to mask my scent—or at the very least to bury it until I attack.

While the dawn light fans across the jungle, I steal under a veil of mist and hold my breath. The tiger is emerging from her den.

She is thin. Likely hungry. But that doesn’t mean she’s weak. Her striped fur is burnished with the luster of youth, and her muscles bulge as she stalks silently through the grass. She’ll head to the nearest pond for a drink, then hunt for breakfast.

But not if I get to her first.

Lanky, wet grass prickles my feet as I close the distance between us. I roll the end of my fighting stick in my palm. A few more steps and I’ll be within range.

Not every tiger is one of Angma’s demons, interrupts a voice in my head. You really think she doesn’t see you hiding in the mist?

There’s only one being on the entire island that would dare disturb me while I’m hunting, and I don’t have to look down to know there is a freckled green snake circling my feet.

Don’t you remember the last time you wrestled a tiger? he says. You’re lucky you got out without any scars. Imagine adding a scratch or two to your face—

I greet my friend with a venomous glare.

Just some advice, he says.

Which I don’t need. I stride forward, eyes on the tiger. I won’t hurt her if she isn’t a demon. But I need this, Ukar. It’s good practice.

Is it “good practice” if you end up as breakfast?

You’re more likely to end up as breakfast than I am, I scoff. I am not game, not when poison sings in my blood.

Every creature that breathes knows that. Even mosquitoes do not prick my skin for blood. One sniff, and they understand that I am not prey. That a taste of me will kill.

Only the snakes are immune to my poison, as I am to theirs. The Serpent King’s bite linked me to them, allowing me to understand their tongue and even exchange thoughts. “Lady Green Snake,” they call me affectionately. They practically raised me and have taught me their wisdom, their lore, their ways. They are my brothers and sisters. My friends.

Ukar, in spite of his constant hectoring, is my best friend.

I thought you said you weren’t coming into the jungle today, he remarks.

Leave me alone. I’m trying to concentrate.

Keeping to the bushes, I crouch low and creep closer to my target. I’ve been waiting all summer to find a tiger, and I am not about to let her get away.

Ukar follows me, making an annoying crackling sound as he slithers over some wet ferns. I glare at him again.

The snake glares back, tail shaking. Give it up. If that tiger were Angma, she wouldn’t be rambling around the pool, passing wind every few paces to make her mark. You’ve searched every leaf in this jungle for the Demon Witch. She isn’t here.

Ignoring Ukar, I quicken my pace, taking a series of calculated steps forward. Not a twig snaps, and the leaves whistle like they’re being played by the wind. I’ve grown into a spry and bony thing, with wide-set eyes and sloped shoulders far stronger than they look. I’m reedy enough to disappear behind the trunk of a teak tree and limber enough to climb it without rope. If not for my face, I’d look as plain as any girl of nineteen. But there is always my face.

My face, with its green-brown scales, which Adah forces me to cover with a mask whenever I am home. My face, which makes grown men shriek in terror and has robbed me of any human friendship other than my sister Vanna’s. My face, which has trapped me somewhere between beast and woman.

Right now, my face has its advantages: it blends perfectly with the green ferns and vines, allowing me to move unseen—until I am two leaps behind the tiger.

She has reached the watering hole, a crystalline pond in which I can see spotted frogs swimming. She bends, majestically tucking her legs behind her, and lowers her head for a drink. She is a magnificent creature.

No horns, no white hair, no reek of cold wickedness about her.

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