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“What are you doing here?” I ask. “Shouldn’t you be with your father?”
“That’s my business.” Oshli’s teeth are locked, and his arms hang stiffly at his sides. “Will you stop hiding up there and come down? Vanna would want you at her side.”
“You go. She seems to prefer you when we’re in the village.”
Oshli makes no reply, but his lips twist unhappily, informing me that something’s amiss between them.
Interesting. The roof creaks under my weight as I edge forward, just a little. “Did you quarrel?”
“I told her she’s a fool to go through with this,” Oshli says, somehow both ignoring my question and answering it. “I told her to run away. Now she won’t speak to me.”
“Of course she won’t speak to you,” I retort. “Vanna’s waited her whole life for today. Why would she run away?” I can’t resist adding the barb: “To be with you?”
Oshli’s expression turns dark.
It’s a low blow, but I don’t care. It’s no secret he’s in love with Vanna. Thankfully, my sister is too sensible to fall for a penniless, unsmiling shaman half a head shorter than her. Still, I’m irked that she likes him and that, at least in public, he’s supplanted me as her best friend and confidante.
“What do you want from me?” I ask. “To talk some sense into her? To stand by her side while the kings bid for her hand? It’s your father who’s leading this damned show. You do something about it.”
“I’m trying. Why do you think I’m talking to you?” His dark eyes rake over my hiding place. He shakes his head. “Forget it.”
He stalks off. With his back to me, he throws a barb of his own: “I thought you loved her.”
I watch him go, my heart hardening against the sting of his words. Old memories resurface: of him throwing rocks at my face, of him putting flowers in Vanna’s hair and laughing with her as though I didn’t exist. That fool wants to question my love for Vanna? He deserves neither my thought nor my time.
Still, I hate that his words rattle me, echoing in my ears until the marketplace’s blessed noise drowns them out. A horn is blaring. It draws my attention to the Temple of Dawn, where the priests are clearing a way through the crowds. The procession of suitors is about to begin.
I didn’t think I’d be nervous, but my breath goes shallow. This is it, the start of Vanna’s selection ceremony. The event could be as short as a day; if it were up to me, it would take months. However long it takes, in the end everything will be different.
I hide my face behind a lantern and sit up, suddenly missing Ukar. I wish he were here.
I’ll be there for you when you need me to fight Angma, he said. But to watch your sister be paraded about like some prize to be won? I have no desire to witness such a spectacle.
Neither do I.
But what a spectacle it is.
Eleven kings have come, carried forth on silver litters and gilded palanquins and in carriages drawn by fine Caiyan stallions. In the back, smiling smugly, as if he considers himself the grand finale, is King Meguh on his elephant.
My stomach burns at the sight.
“King Hoa Tho of Pakkien Island,” announces High Priest Dakuok, Oshli’s father. He is several suitors behind. “King Leidaya of Balam Island!”
On it goes. Here is more royalty than most will see in a lifetime, but I’d bet Adah is disappointed with the turnout. He was expecting dozens of suitors from across the world: the khagans of A’landi, the emperor of Samaran, the kings of Balar, and perhaps even the high queen of Agoria herself.
So far, there is only one suitor from beyond the isles. He’s arrived with a meager entourage of two servants, and he walks instead of rides in a carriage or a litter. The other kings are already scoffing at him.
Steadily the royals make their way to the Temple of Dawn. Constructed entirely of stone, it’s shaped like the tip of a spear: rounded along the sides but pointed at the top. From my vantage, it’s piercing a cloud in the sky, and sunlight sieves down upon the stone walls. Or maybe that’s Vanna’s light.
While her suitors line up at the bottom of the temple steps, Vanna glides out from behind an orchid-festooned door and at last makes her appearance.
A wispy veil obscures her face. Its color matches the faded gold carved into the temple walls. At her sides are Adah and Lintang. Adah sports a prosperous bulge in his belly, and Lintang stands proudly beside him, jade disks dangling brightly from her ears as she holds her chin high.
I feel a tug on my heartstrings. With Vanna in the center, they appear a beautiful family. No one would guess someone was missing.
At my father’s other side is High Priest Dakuok. His eyebrows have gone gray since the last time I saw him, but they are as slippery as ever, like eels that cannot stay still.
“Behold the fairest of all!” he cries over the marketplace. “Vanna Jin’aiti of Sundau, chosen of the gods. See how she glows with the light of the very sun.”
