“Yes,” Mama said. “That’s why I never bothered to write a story about the lake. There’s not enough information out there.”

Papa barreled into the study then, carrying a tray of small blue cups and a sake carafe in his right hand and a box with orange cups and matching carafe in his left. “Do you think your teachers would like blue or orange better?” he asked.

“You stupid man!” Mama said, snatching both the tray and box away from him. “The Society is too important and busy to care about your pottery. Can’t you see that our daughter was just trying to give you something to do so you’d feel important while she took care of the real reason for her visit—discussing her school project with me?”

“Your arrogance is out of control!” Papa shouted. “Ever since you were awarded that prize for literature, you think you’re the greatest living mind in the kingdom!”

“You’re lucky I deigned to marry a pea brain like you!”

“I seem to recall you admired me when we first met. My family have been master potters for centuries—”

Sora watched sadly. “I’m sorry I can’t help you right now,” she said, even though they couldn’t hear her over their own yelling. “But I’m going to stop this madness as soon as I can. Everything will be better then. I promise.”

Her parents didn’t even notice when she ducked out the door and left the house.

Half a mile down the road, she met Broomstick, who had somehow procured horses for them and just turned the final bend in the switchback. He was covered in dust and sweat, and he looked like he could have used a good meal and bath at her parents’ house.

But one look at the way Sora’s shoulders drooped and he offered her a horse and turned them around, heading away from food and rest, going back down the mountain.

“Were they like the dumpling maker?” Broomstick asked.

Sora nodded, lips pressed tightly together. She’d held her emotions together in front of her parents, but now that she’d left them, it began to sink in how bad the situation was. How her parents’ goodness was being eaten away, like a worm nibbling through an apple. If the worm got to the core, would Mama and Papa rot for good? Sora stifled a sob.

“With Kichona dedicated to Zomuri,” Sora said, “I think the kingdom will only get darker. We have to get that soul and kill Prince Gin before it’s too late. Kichona needs Empress Aki and Sola.”

Sora wiped away the tears threatening to overflow. She wouldn’t cry. Not yet. She was a fighter. A warrior. The last of the protectors of Kichona. She would not let her parents succumb to Zomuri and the Dragon Prince’s rule.