Page 90 of Her Radiant Curse

“Channi, please.” Lintang steps nervously between my father and me. “Don’t make a scene. This is your sister’s wedding day.” Out of courtesy to her, I let go of Adah’s hand.

She holds her umbrella over my head, but I step back into the downpour.

“Me? A scene?” Frustration cannons against my chest, making it hurt to breathe. “You allowed Dakuok to sell me to Meguh, and now that I’m here, all you care about is…is…”

Bile rises to my throat, and my words sputter out. I can see that explaining myself to Adah and Lintang will only be a waste of time.

I turn on my heel.

“Wait, Channi!” Lintang calls, raising her voice to be heard over the storm. “Channi, come back!”

She’s still yelling when I turn the corner, but I ignore her. After years of wishing that she’d be a mother to me, that for once Adah might actually show he cares, I’ve learned the hard way that it’ll never happen.

I don’t turn back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The royal temple is framed by statues of the gods. It has five walls—each meant to represent a petal in a lotus bud.

Outside, before the temple stairs, umbrellas are hoisted high. They look like clusters of kites, and they crowd my view. I’m cursing because I cannot see the sun, hidden behind the storm clouds, inching close to its zenith. Darkness clings to every eave in spite of the hour, and shadows drape over the temple’s sloped roofs, oozing into corners that not even Vanna’s light can reach.

I have only minutes left.

Drums pound from the music pavilion across the courtyard, trying to rival the booming thunder. To their beat, Vanna and Prince Rongyo ascend the grand stairs of the temple, personally greeting each member of Tai’yanan’s court.

I’m on a hunt, and from experience I know that most of it will involve waiting and being invisible. In hindsight, I’m glad Vanna forced me to take the bath. Best that I don’t call attention to myself by reeking of fish.

I wrap Oshli’s scarf around my head and dip into the crowds, mostly unseen. My spear draws a few concerned glances, but I’m gone before they reach my snake eyes.

As I plow past the lords, ladies, and ministers, I become vividly aware of every shift of the wind, every murmur and whisper, every flinch and step. The air grows colder by the minute, but my body is hot with panic. Angma is here, somewhere, lurking in plain sight. I can feel it.

We are moments from the exact hour of Vanna’s birth. The light in her heart gives nothing away, bathing her in a golden crown as always—but I can feel the threads of her power vibrating, their pulse accelerating. When she reaches the top of the stairs, the rain finally begins to lift. Thunder still rumbles, but light leaks through cracks between the clouds.

The sun reaches its summit.

Framed by the Sky Mountains of Tai’yanan, Vanna turns to face the crowd. I am mere steps away. So close I can smell the hibiscus in her hair. If Angma comes, I will be ready.

“Seventeen years ago on this day,” Vanna is addressing the court, “I was born with this light inside me. It has brought me great happiness—and great distress. A radiant curse, I’ve always thought it.” Her voice goes subdued. “I know not where this light comes from, but I promise I will spread only its joy, only its hope.” As she touches her heart, its radiance grows, fanning across the entire temple and beyond. Even I feel it, a tickle of warm air upon my lashes. I blink it away. “Thank you for welcoming me to your beautiful kingdom. I will be honored to call it home.”

It is an odd speech, but Vanna could be reciting the Eternal Sorrows and no one would notice. Her light has the courtiers transfixed, and they murmur words of devotion to her, bowing as they would to the queen. I alone am scanning the garden, the temple, the sky. A trio of birds squawk in the far distance.

Ukar pops out of my scarf to get a better look. They’re flying too high for birds, he says.

I squint, taking in their long wings and dangling feet. My body goes tight with dread. They’re not birds.

“Suiyaks!” I shout. “Suiyaks!”

No one listens. In fact, people gasp at my rudeness for pushing through the crowd. I push harder. With the precious seconds I have, I shove my way to the stairs.

I’m halfway up when the crowd recognizes the suiyaks for what they are, and panic erupts. The royal guards spring into action, but they’re woefully unprepared. It’s going to be a bloodbath.

As the guards stagger back in shock, I grab the nearest bow and quiver. Four arrows.

You’ve never been good at shooting, says Ukar unhelpfully.

This is not the time, Ukar. Not the time.

I release the first arrow, but the suiyak catches it. Snaps it in her mouth, cackling like a crow.

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