I look back across the plains to the palace.
I imagine turning away from all this. Taking Wren and Baba and Tien and the Paper Girls and getting out of here. We could go to the sanctuary Wren described in the mountains, or perhaps back to my home in Xienzo. Find a quiet corner of the world and make a life for ourselves. A life chosen by us, and not forced by the greedy hands of men like Ketai and the King. We could make our own kind of freedom.
When the world denies you choices, you make your own.
Yet I know these thoughts are pointless. Because if the King defeats the Hannos tomorrow, Ikhara will never be free for Papers. Everything will continue as before, always living with the fear that one day we’ll hear horn blows and hoof-fall, and know our worlds are about to shatter. And even if the Hannos and their allies do win the war, I know Wren would regret it every day that she hadn’t been there to do it with them.
I would regret it.
Because this has never really been about helping Ketai Hanno take the throne. It is about my mother, and Zelle, and the Demon Queen, and every Paper Girl who was ever imprisoned in the palace. It is about Bo and Hiro and Chenna and Caen, and all the Papers across Ikhara who live every day with a fear they should never have had to know in the first place. It’s about shamans like Ruza who are risking their lives to help me keep mine. The Paper woman who looked at me the night of the Unveiling Ceremony and called me dzarja, a traitor to my own kind. And, perhaps above all, it is about the night the Demon King took something from me I’ll never be able to get back. All the times he took and took from me, tiny parts and huge chunks, inflicting wounds that will never heal, no matter how much time passes.
And it is about Wren, and love, and hope.
I take a breath, steadying myself. Then I turn to Ketai.
“I’ll do it.”
The words sound as though they’re coming from a foreign body. Surely I can’t be agreeing to this. But I knew the moment the pieces came together in Ketai’s tent that if this is what it takes, I will do it.
The first thing I picture once the words are out is Wren, Baba, and Tien crying over my body. The second is two characters, side by side, close as lovers.
Sacrifice.
Flight.
Wren’s fate was never about her—it was about who she loved. It was this. It is losing me. And this time, it’s my turn to give her wings.
“I’ll do it,” I repeat, “but not for you. For Wren. She’s drained herself so much I don’t know if she can get through the battle without it.”
“You love her that much,” Ketai says.
I shake my head. “More.”
He begins to speak.
I hold up a hand. The tears are arriving, and I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing them. “I’ve seen how it’s done. I’ll know when the time comes.” I take a shaky breath. “Wren will hate you for this for the rest of your life,” I say as I move to leave. “I hope you know that. But she will have a life. And that’s what matters to me.”
Before he can say anything, I spin on my heels. Tears stream hot and fast now as I run back the way I came, desperate to return to Wren. To not waste one second more without her.
If I’m only to live a few more hours, I want to spend them by her side, in her light, in her love, her beautiful glow. I want to soak it all up. I’ll remind myself exactly how it feels so that when the time comes for me to go, I won’t be alone. I will have the memories of every moment we have spent together.
Even if I wish for so, so many more.
THIRTY-ONE
WREN
IT WAS JUST HOW SHE’D DREAMED it so many nights before. Lei waking her by slipping under the sheets, tucking a leg between her thighs and cupping her face in one hand, turning her cheek gently so they were face-to-face, those bright eyes blazing more fiercely than she’d ever seen.
“My love,” Wren started, hoarse.
Lei shook her head. “Not now. None of it matters. Nothing before this moment, and nothing after. Can we do that? Can we just… be?”
Her eyes were shimmering with a rainbow of emotions, but above all else was resolve. Wren could drown in that molten gold, and gladly.
She knew she should apologize. They had so much to talk through. But tomorrow’s battle was creeping ever closer, and their issues wouldn’t be solved with one conversation. It was going to take months, probably years of patience and understanding and reopening old wounds until they found the formula to heal them.
Wren didn’t mind. She was ready for it—anything that meant they might stand a chance.
“Let’s just be,” she agreed.
Their lives were about to begin, after all. Their futures were waiting just around the corner. They could have one moment suspended in time. One moment to ignore reality a little longer.
Lei smiled, and Wren’s heart ached.
“How do you feel?” Lei asked, bringing her lips closer. “Do you think you have the strength to kiss me?”
Wren brushed back the hair that’d fallen across Lei’s face. She smelled so good, like wild meadow flowers in the rain, like love, like hope. She smelled like home.
She was home.
“Always,” Wren replied, and lifted her mouth to meet Lei’s.
As the first boom of a war-horn rent the air.
THIRTY-TWO
LEI
THE CALL BLASTS LOUD AND CLEAR, shooting despair down my veins.
Not now. Not yet.
We were supposed to have one final night.
I was supposed to have more time.
Wren is already dragging me to my feet. She flings aside the flap and looks out. Bodies rush past, the entire site having burst into commotion at the alarm.
“Wren! Lei!” Kenzo sprints toward the tent, lobbing a large bundle to Wren as he nears: clothes, armor, the long lacquered scabbards of her swords. “Get dressed and meet us at the stables.”
The wolf demon is already dressed for war, blue hanfu overlaid with a leather chest piece and metal-knuckled gloves. His bamboo staff is strapped to his back. Even in his diminished condition, he looks imposing, every bit the experienced warrior.
“What’s going on?” Wren asks. “We’re hours early.”
Kenzo’s expression is grim. “The Bamboo Forest is on fire.”
“The entire forest?”
“They must have set it themselves.”
My head spins. “But why? It was one of their defenses.”
“They know we’re coming,” Kenzo says. “Instead of waiting, they’ve played their hand first. It is a bold one, I must admit, and not one we predicted. Not only does it give the palace guards a better view of our approach, they are sending us a message.”
“Which is?”
“That they are not afraid.”
He and Wren swap a hard look, then she brushes past me, slipping off her sleeping robe to draw on her various layers of gear. Kenzo spins on his heels, disappearing into the throng.
“Wait!” I shout, springing after him.