Aoki and I swap a look. I struggle to keep the smile from my face.
“You mean General Lova? Clan Leader of the Amala? Attractive lioness you spent a lot of time staring at when you thought no one was watching?”
Blue shoots me a death stare as Aoki bursts into giggles. “Gods,” she hisses. “Forget it.”
I smooth the letter open. “No,” I say, “I won’t.” I hesitate, casting Aoki a sideways glance. “Would this—is this all right?”
Wren’s unspoken name hovers in the room. I hate that just as Aoki’s finally starting to understand and process what happened in the palace, she has these fresher wounds to deal with. The loss of her family is a trauma of a whole other kind, and I know it’s going to be a long time before she starts to feel better about it, let alone Wren and the Hannos’ involvement.
But to her credit, Aoki gives me a brittle smile. “It’s all right. She’s who you love, and I love you.”
I squeeze her arm, thankful. Then I turn back to the letter—and my eyes widen. “It isn’t from Wren.”
The girls lean in as I flip the scroll to see the wax seal I opened in my haste, finding not the Hannos’ midnight blue but instead a pale plum shade. We scan the first few lines of the letter together.
“Oh, my gods,” Aoki whispers.
Blue stiffens. “Chenna’s parents.”
“The poor things,” Aoki breathes. “You should be the one to read it, Lei. It’s addressed to you.”
“We all loved her.” I spread it out so we can all see it. “We’ll read it together—like Chenna would have wanted.”
Dear Lei,
We apologize for not addressing you more formally. We do not know your family name. A friend of ours told us family names are not common in the more rural parts of provinces like Xienzo. We hope we have not caused offense.
We are Chenna Munsi’s parents, Ramir and Vita Munsi. We have wanted to contact you for a long time, but it has taken us a while to gather the strength. Please forgive us. Losing our only daughter has been difficult.
We appreciate the letter you sent. If we had to be told by anyone, we are glad the news came from one of her closest friends. Someone who was there with her, from beginning to end. Your kind words about Chenna have been a great comfort to us. We read your letter often to remember her as you knew her. It sounds as if she grew tremendously during her time at the palace.
Vita and I would like to thank you for all you did to look after Chenna. From what you told us about the other Paper Girls, they were important to Chenna as well. We would love the opportunity to meet you all one day and thank you in person.
That brings us to the purpose behind us writing to you. If it would not be too much of an imposition, we were hoping we could come visit you to do just that—meet and thank you in person. We assure you we would not take up too much of your time, and we would obtain lodgings in an inn, of course, and procure all our own meals. Still, we understand if you are not comfortable with this and will respect whatever decision you make.
Thank you for your time.
We wish you and your family well.
Gods’ blessings,
Ramir and Vita Munsi
Aoki’s face is wet. I wrap an arm around her. Across from us, Blue sits rigidly, her mouth pressed thin. Then she seems to resolve herself.
“Her parents sound rather pompous,” she says.
“Blue!” Aoki cries.
“Well, it’s true. No wonder Chenna was so standoffish.”
“She wasn’t standoffish,” I snap, “and you know it.”
“She wasn’t too bad, I suppose,” Blue concedes.
I raise my brows. “A high compliment, coming from you.”
Aoki scrubs a sleeve across her cheeks. “Well? What will you tell them?”
“That they can come as soon as I’m back from my trip, of course.” As she smiles, I squeeze her to my side. “And that they’ll be able to meet four more of the girls who meant so much to their daughter.”
Aoki’s eyes brighten. “Zhen and Zhin will have so many good stories to tell them! They always tell the best stories.”
I shoot Blue a pointed look.
She throws up her hands. “Fine. Maybe they’ll take a liking to me and offer to take me back with them to Uazu. If their posh writing style is anything to go by, their home must be far fancier than this one.”
“I’d take Lei’s house over a fancy one any day,” Aoki says, and the three of us fall quiet at her words’ significance.
Our last home was the most luxurious in all of Ikhara—and now here we are, living in my rundown shop-house in a nowhere village in Xienzo. Like Aoki, I’d take this over somewhere more opulent any day. And though she mutters a noncommittal response, taking a pineapple tart to avoid further scrutiny, I know Blue would, too.
FORTY-FIVE
LEI
FROM THE MOMENT WE LAND, I know Samira was right. I am going to like this place. A lot.
Even if I hadn’t just spent an arduous three days on Samira’s back—who, unlike dear Merrin, definitely needs more practice flying with passengers—I’d still be overcome upon our arrival. This is the Southern Sanctuary, one of four secret rest places for shamans and travelers throughout the Ghoa-Zhen mountains, and the place Wren learned about her Xia family during the war. Sanctuary is exactly the right word for it. Everything feels warm and safe and comforting, from the amber tint of the morning light to the bubbling stream to the prayers rising from the shrines.
I take a few wobbly steps, patting down my windswept hair. The hum of something familiar runs beneath my feet. Before I can place it, we’re greeted by a group of shamans. More move around the settlement, shooting us curious glances before returning to their chores and conversations.
“Samira!” A tiny, ancient-looking shaman embraces the hawk-girl warmly. “It’s so wonderful to see you again.” She beams a gap-toothed grin, her cloudy black eyes sparkling. She turns them on me. “You must be Lei. I am Ahma Goh.”
When I go to bow, she stops me.
“No formalities here, child. We are all one and the same. Besides, my poor back couldn’t take it!” She clasps my hands in her wrinkled ones. “I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.”
“You have?” I say. “We came as fast as we could…”
She chuckles. “I mean since young Samira here and the others first stayed with us. That lover of yours is not much of a talker, is she? But I still knew about you. There are some things we don’t need words to convey.” My throat swells, and Ahma Goh’s face shines. “Come. She’s putting away breakfast.”
Leaving Samira with the others, the old shaman leads me to an open-sided pavilion at the heart of the site. Its half hidden by a cluster of maples, their leaves the sea green of approaching autumn. Shadowed figures move inside.
That’s when I hear her laugh.
I stop dead. Ahma Goh waits, smiling patiently, one arm wrapped around my waist.
That sound.