“A race, you say?” Pangil said.

To Duja’s right, Imeria gave him a challenging grin.

In the end, Ojas gave the signal. He was a junior guard then, with a young man’s gait and a trim, dark beard. Though he always wore the same stoic expression, he doted on Duja and would do whatever she asked.

“Ready . . . Set . . . Go!” Ojas called, his voice booming across the courtyard like thunder.

But Pangil had taken off a split second before Ojas had given the go-ahead.

“No fair!” Imeria cried out. As Duja opened her mouth to protest, Imeria took off after Pangil. She dashed across the courtyard, her plait shooting from the back of her head like a dart. Though she was a full head shorter than Pangil, she caught up close enough to lunge at his knees. Pangil toppled to the ground under the younger girl’s weight.

“Hey!” he cried.

“Pangil, wait!” Duja sprinted for them, fear rising in her throat. She had seen the little tyrant her brother became when angered.

But Pangil didn’t strike Imeria. He didn’t even yell at her. Instead, he threw his head back and laughed. To Duja’s shock, Imeria joined him. They laughed until their bellies ached and they ran out of breath.

So rarely had they been that happy, the three of them. That moment was a small, lonely island. If it didn’t glow so brightly amidst Duja’s ocean of memories, she’d have been convinced it was nothing but some faraway dream.

Duja thought of that moment as she stared at her family. At Laya, who kept her softest angles hidden, even though she was lovelier for them. Laya, whose dark eyes burned with unharnessed potential. Fearless, passionate Laya, who might one day build things far greater than the walls her younger self tore down.

“So much like Pangil,” Duja murmured. For the first time, the thought didn’t fill her with dread.

“Pangil,” Ariel echoed, jolting Duja from her thoughts.

“Yes?” she said, embarrassed. She didn’t realize she had uttered her brother’s name out loud.

“Will he also come to the palace?” Ariel asked, hesitant.