A LONG WHILE LATER WE SETTLE back against the tree for Wren to finish her story. This time we sit closer, curled together like two puzzle pieces, her arms circling me from behind. Her breath is warm by my ear. The names of her sister and my mother flutter in the branches above our heads like protective charms, our own precious gods watching over us.

“I don’t know how I survived the attack,” Wren says, “let alone how I stayed alive for days afterward with no food or water, no shelter. Perhaps it was my Xia blood, or some last protective dao one of my family wove for me with the last of their breath. The mountainside was covered in bodies. I was hidden among them, the only living thing for miles. That’s what my father says drew him to me—my adoptive father, that is, Ketai Hanno. He came to Rain after hearing about the massacre, hoping to find survivors. He’s always believed the stories of the Xia. He wanted to learn from them, try to rebuild their presence in Ikhara.”

My brow furrows. “But I thought the Hannos are one of the Demon King’s biggest supporters.”

“Yes,” Wren says. “They are.”

I wait for her to explain further. “Oh,” I say eventually. “Another thing you can’t tell me about.”

She lowers her lips to my head, so I feel her warm breath mussing my hair. “I’m sorry, Lei. I want to tell you everything. The whole truth. But it would be too dangerous.”

I’m stiff in her arms. “You still don’t trust me,” I murmur.

“Of course I do. I mean that it would be dangerous for you.”

We sit in silence, the courtyard hushed with the rustle of the paper leaves, their faint chiming hum.

“So,” I say, hugging her arms closer to me. “Ketai Hanno found you and took you back to Ang-Khen?”

“Exactly. Bhali—Ketai’s wife, my adoptive mother—was sick. She hadn’t been seen in public for two years, which fit perfectly with my arrival. They announced my birth late, saying that they were waiting for her recovery before sharing the news. No one questioned it. Maybe if I’d been a boy, it would have been different. But I was just a new daughter for the Demon King to eventually claim. My existence wouldn’t have much consequence. And so I began my new life in the Hannos’ palace, and grew up to love a new family.”

“Do you?” I ask gently. “Love them?”

Wren replies after a beat. “As much as I can. I guess it’s strange I should feel so connected to the Xia, seeing that I was just a baby when they were killed. But I can’t help but think of them as my true family. Sometimes I’ll catch scent of something that reminds me of them, of the mountains, and it strikes me so vividly then—the loss. The loneliness of being the only one left.”

“I know,” I say, tilting my head back to nestle my face into her neck. I breathe her crisp, blue-green scent in, so cleansing in my lungs. “I miss my family, too. Everyone keeps telling me to forget about them, but I can’t just let them go.”

Wren’s voice is fierce. “Then don’t. I haven’t.”

“Doesn’t it make it harder?”

“Yes,” she answers. “But I don’t want an easy life. I want a meaningful one.”

As we head back to Women’s Court, and throughout the rest of the day, Wren’s words play over and over in my head, building and strengthening, like a light growing brighter and fiercer the longer it burns, a candle-flame in reverse. Every time our eyes catch across a room—Wren’s gaze soft with our secret but radiant with something else—or we stroll down a corridor, standing a fraction closer than before, the caged thing stirs inside me. Not just with desire, but for the kind of life Wren was talking about under the tree. The courage I heard in her words.

I don’t want an easy life. I want a meaningful one.

The image of the old Paper Girl from the koyo party comes back to me: her melting face, her desperation. All this time I’ve been trying to adjust to my life here in the palace. To fit into the life expected of me. But am I losing sense of who I am, who I want to become?

Dzarja. The label is ugly, but only because I let it be. The realization strikes me with such force that I’m incredulous to have not thought of it before.

Perhaps being a traitor can be a good thing if you are betraying those who deserve it.

That night, I wait until the house is silent before going to Wren’s room.

She is on her feet at once. “Lei? What are you doing?”

I cross the room. Push her up against the wall. “Telling the easy life where to go,” I say, and lift my lips to hers.

“Wait,” she murmurs against my mouth, stiffening.

My breathing is quick. “Haven’t we done enough of that already?”

There’s a moment’s pause—and then her lips close on mine.

A sigh runs through me. Loosening a soft, sweet growl, Wren laces her arms round my neck, hands tangling in my hair, her mouth opening to move with mine. My world dissolves into heat and velvet touch. The two of us fall into rhythm, as natural and easy as if we’d done this a thousand times before. Has Wren done this before? The thought flares into my mind, almost taking me out of the moment. But I shove it away. Because maybe it’s just like this because it’s us, and it’s right.

Desire charges through my bloodstream. Sighing, I draw Wren closer, our kiss growing fiercer. Urgent. Mouth wide, I brush the tip of her tongue with my own. She tastes like a monsoon, like storms and danger. In return, she nips my bottom lip, sending a sharp current of heat between my legs, where my pulse throbs, a fluid beat. My fingers skim over the silky fabric of her night robe. Her body is hard and muscled and so beautiful it hurts. I want to know every part of it at once. I want to melt into her. To disappear into the softness of her kisses, of her skin and smooth, liquid heat.

Sliding her hands down my back, Wren squeezes my waist, drawing a gasp from my lips. The flaring heat inside me swells. I have the wild notion that this must be what Master Tekoa’s prediction was about: the fire, the red flames within me. But how would it bring down the palace? This is a secret fire that can only be kindled—and caught—by the girl whose lips are upon mine.

Eventually we pull apart, our breathing heavy.

Wren drops her forehead against mine, half panting. “All right,” she says shakily, a trembling hand lifting to cup my cheek. “So maybe the hard life isn’t so bad after all.”

I laugh. “Was that a joke?”

“I am capable of them, you know.”

“Prove it. Make another one.”

She gives me a feline smile. “Can’t I just kiss you again instead?”

My pulse flits as she dips her mouth toward mine. But just then, there’s the sound of footsteps in the hallway.

We lurch apart. In the shadowy room, Wren’s eyes are wide, moon-bright. We wait, breathless, the seconds ticking by slowly until finally the steps fade. There’s the sound of a door closing a few rooms away.

“You should get back,” Wren whispers once it’s quiet again.

Our mouths find each other’s one last time in the dark, and I sigh into her sweetness, her liquid warmth.

“Don’t come tomorrow,” Wren says when we pull apart. I freeze, but she continues with a smile, “I’ll come to you instead.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I murmur.

Her expression sobers. “I keep my promises, Lei,” she replies quietly. “Whatever they might cost me.”