They made their way up the winding mountain path. Daemon cast a cheetah spell on himself so they could cover the distance faster. Sora managed to keep them invisible, even after she got down from Daemon’s back. He just had to stay close by and be vigilant in case her magic dropped.

They pressed themselves against the outer walls and caught their breaths. There was a surprising lack of patrols—it seemed most of the ryuu were down at the Citadel. Was the Dragon Prince so secure in his position that he didn’t feel the need to have more warriors guarding him?

But why would he? He was controlling the minds of the entire Society of Taigas, minus the four of them. He had powerful magic at his fingertips, and he was holed up in a bastion protected by an army of ryuu in a fortress. There was little reason to be threatened, especially by four kids, who he probably thought were off feeling sorry for themselves somewhere.

Surprise, Sora thought. Here we are. And I’m going to stick a throwing star in your eye. Maybe two.

She and Daemon snuck around the perimeter of the castle.

And almost ran right into a group of ryuu pouring out of one of the side doors.

Sora jerked Daemon back. Despite their invisibility, they needed to be careful, because the ryuu knew there was a rogue ryuu running around who could make herself invisible. If they felt something touch them that they couldn’t see, the conclusion would be easy to draw.

“That was close,” Daemon said.

But she didn’t respond, because a familiar caustic voice carried in the wind, giving orders to the ryuu. Sora didn’t need to look around the corner to know who the voice belonged to.

Hana.

Sora cringed as she remembered the scathing hatred on her sister’s face when they’d fought on the Citadel walls. And the taunt as Hana held Empress Aki’s unconscious body atop the bloodstone castle, a knife pressed to the empress’s throat. Sora had lost track of them during the Ceremony of Two Hundred Hearts, when Prince Gin had compelled innocent men, children, and women to cut out their own hearts as sacrificial gifts to Zomuri. Whatever progress Sora had made in reconciling with Hana while they were both ryuu, it was destroyed now.

Maybe I didn’t try hard enough to save her. Sora touched the necklace at her throat. It was the gold memorial pearl her mother had given her during Autumn Festival, in remembrance of Hana. Sora still wore it, even though she now knew that Hana was alive.

“Hey-o, are you okay?” Daemon asked. Sora’s distress had curdled their gemina bond like sour milk.

“Hana is just around the corner,” Sora whispered. She wasn’t prepared—physically or emotionally—to face her sister again. To see her fury seething beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.