Sunny’s head dipped to the floor, her entire body going still. There was something unnatural about that stillness. Soraya tensed, ready to run or protect herself if the woman suddenly attacked. But when Sunny looked up, there was no anger in her expression. No violence. Just quiet, sad resignation. She nodded. “You’re right. I know you’re right. I think I’ve always known, but I’d just hoped that if I could somehow get through to her…” Her nod turned into a shake. “It was a fool’s hope, I know. I am a fool. A fool in love.”

“It’s not foolish to want to help someone you care about,” Soraya said. “But it must stop. The nightly killings. The fearmongering. You can’t let her continue to rampage through Seer, terrorizing its citizens. It’s not good for anyone, including Seela.”

“You think she’s suffering?” Sunny’s eyes were wide and fearful now.

“Don’t you?”

“I—I’m so selfish.”

“You are human. Not wanting to hurt isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

“What do we do now?”

“Please get her, bring her here. I want to talk to her.”

“Are you going to…”

“We’ll just talk. For now.”

The woman breathed deeply through her nose, but then stood up and, without another word, departed. Soraya considered going after her—what was to stop her from grabbing Seela and making a run for it? If they fled, how many other towns would they terrorize? How many other people would die? And would that trail of blood lead the world right to Narcissi’s doorstep? If so, it would all be Soraya’s fault, the ultimate failure in her new role as Guardian.

And above all else, trust your instincts. Yours’ are better than most. Her father’s words to her before they parted ways. She closed her eyes, focusing not on her fears and doubts or worries over Shim’s condition, but on what her instincts told her. They won’t flee, she realized. Neither of them. They are tired. They are ready for it to be over, too.

Right on cue, she heard them. They drew closer and then Sunny appeared, her expression different now. Lighter, like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She paused briefly at the threshold, took a deep breath, and then entered. Seela followed her, eyes meeting Soraya’s for a moment before passing on. Her forehead had been freshly powdered brown. They sat before her, hands clasped. Before Soraya could say a word, Seela spoke. “I am sorry about your friend. Sorrier than I can put into words. You need to stop me. Sunny can’t do it—I wouldn’t want her to—but you can. You must.”

“First show me.” When Seela wrinkled her brow in confusion, Soraya gestured to her own golden markings. “You have these, don’t you?”

“Ah, yes. Hold on a moment.” She quickly and efficiently moved to a small washbasin and used a wet bit of cloth to dab the powder away. When she turned back, the three shimmering Leaves of the Goddess radiated from the skin above her eyebrows. “When I first laid eyes on your markings, I almost gasped.”