They had a right to know. And yet, this didn’t seem the proper time. It would mean explaining not only that their younger daughter was alive but also that she was fighting for the wrong side. That Sora had tried to show her the error of following Prince Gin, but that Hana had turned her back and chosen the pursuits of blood and glory and the Evermore instead.

And then there was Prince Gin’s promise—that the next time Sora and Hana met, one of them would end up dead.

It was definitely better not to tell Mama and Papa about Hana now.

A second later, Mama whacked Papa with her pencil. “What kind of host are you? Have you offered our daughter something to drink? A place to sit? She must be exhausted.”

“How is this my fault?” he said. “You’re the rude one, holed up in your office and not greeting her properly.”

“I didn’t even know she was here!”

“Maybe if you paid better attention—”

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Sora said, horrified. “I’m fine. Don’t worry. Everything’s fine.”

Except it wasn’t. There was something wrong with her parents, just like something had been wrong with Mr. Zaki in the village. As if the sunlight that usually shone on their lives had been replaced with putrid green rot.

Sora gasped. Or like Sola’s brightness on our kingdom has been overshadowed by Zomuri’s selfish pettiness.

Could this be what that conversation Fairy overheard in the Citadel was about? Something about how Zomuri being the kingdom’s new patron god was influencing people? It certainly seemed as if his cruelty were dripping into Kichona, like a sickness falling over the people and the land.

Sora looked at Mama and Papa casting daggers of blame over an imagined problem. Their fury sliced into Sora, too, but in a different way—it pained her to see them like this.

This has to be stopped. Sora couldn’t let Mama and Papa stay this way forever.

For now, though, she needed to distract them from their argument. “Papa, I want to bring a gift back to my teachers,” she lied. “Would you be able to pick a sake set from your collection for me? They are always so impressed with your artistry. And Mama,” she said, “I have a mythology project for my literature class that involves the Lake of Nightmares. But I have no idea where to start. Have you come across this lake in your work, maybe in your research for the Kichonan Tales?”

They both blinked.

Papa nodded happily. “I would be honored to give a sake set to your teachers. I’ll look for something right away.” He hurried out of the house toward his studio, almost skipping as he went.

Mama, however, frowned. “You said your project was on the Lake of Nightmares? What an esoteric legend. There really isn’t much about it.”