Laya was prone to moments of melancholy, but she was not one to wallow in darkness for long. She allowed a full hour to feel sorry for herself before deserting her room in search of someone to bother. By the time she emerged, a rare stillness had settled over the palace grounds. Most of the servants had broken for an early lunch; some, she suspected, were already taking advantage of the festive atmosphere. Next week, the faint buzz of excitement would build to a lusty uproar. Laya tried to relish the quiet as she made her way to the main stairwell. Peace was a privilege, and she wouldn’t see it again until the end of the feast days.

It was important for sovereigns to have these moments of solitude, she’d been told. Laya didn’t know about that. In solitude, her mind filled with the stormy thoughts she tried ardently to ignore. The silence consumed her.

She didn’t see Eti until she almost tripped over her younger sister’s outstretched feet. Laya gasped, saving herself on the banister.

“Watch where you’re going!” Eti cried, indignant, as if it were acceptable behavior for young princesses to lie sprawled across the palace stairs.

“Haven’t you got another place to practice your wielding? Your private chambers, perhaps?” Laya drawled as she stepped over Eti’s legs.

The tiny golden pellet Eti had been tampering with fell into her palm. Where Laya wielded the wind and the rain, Eti’s affinity was for metal. And while Mulayri’s power burst from Laya in raging torrents, it trickled from the younger girl in a gentle stream, which suited Eti just fine.

“I was going to turn this into a bracelet and give it to you for your coronation, but I think I’ll keep it for myself,” Eti said loftily, in near-perfect imitation of Laya’s tone.

Laya chuckled⁠—for a child, Eti was a talented mimic. “Do whatever you wish with that bracelet. I don’t care.”

Eti stuck her tongue out at her. Unlike with Bulan, there was no malice between Laya and her younger sister.

Laya stuck out her tongue back, tousling Eti’s hair as she continued up the steps. She paused when she reached the landing. On the flight below, Eti had stretched out to occupy the full width of the stairwell. The younger girl kept her gaze trained on the golden pellet, which now floated a few inches above her nose. Her brown cheeks were still as round as steam buns. Between them, Laya could make out the beginnings of a woman’s chin. A bittersweet warmth burst in Laya’s chest when she realized how much Eti had grown.