“Am’s Story, stay out of my head at night!” Kirah snorted, and I only smirked.

“It’s hard when you dream so loudly.”

She was quiet for a moment. “We have talked about it,” she admitted. “Once, in Songland, we all but confessed everything. That he likes me, and I like him. I didn’t even mind that he wasn’t a council member. But . . .” She swallowed. “He’s eight years older than me, Tar. I thought I didn’t care before. But he’s been so many places. Done things I haven’t. And no matter how much I dream of him . . .” She hugged her knees to her chest, wrinkling her priestess kaftan. “I don’t want to look up to the man I’m in love with. I’d rather see eye to eye.”

I shrugged. “Chuck him, then. Never thought he deserved you, anyway. What kind of a prince takes a cat wherever he goes?”

Kirah dimpled, then grew serious. “A year from now, or two, or three—after I’ve traveled the continent and seen everything I’ve ever wanted . . . maybe I’ll let Woo In fly me to the moon. But for now?” She stared serenely at the city skyline, twilight shading her wistful features. “I might grow some wings of my own. High Priestesses are supposed to resolve disputes between the Arit religious sects. They usually work from one temple here in the capital, but what if I traveled to other temples instead? There are so many places in Aritsar I haven’t seen. So many people who need a healer.”

I pouted. “You’ve only just got back, and now you want to leave me again.”

“You’re one to talk,” she shot back, though she looked immediately regretful. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I just . . . Sometimes, I get a little tired of pretending it’s not happening.”

“I know. It’s all right.” I stared at the marks on my arms and legs, which glistened as whispers filled my ears. After leaving the Temple of Iyaja a month ago, I had followed Old Mongwe’s advice, ignoring the ojiji who haunted me. My headaches had remained at bay, though translucent children still mobbed me in the palace, their words nipping at my ears.

Unworthy. Unworthy. Pay the price. Paythepricepaytheprice—

My eighteenth birthday was tomorrow. I had anointed a council in less than half the time I’d asked of the abiku, and still had a year before I had to enter the Underworld. But—much to the chagrin of both my councils—I had decided to go early. The longer I waited, the more it seemed like I was preparing for death—and Mongwe’s warning weighed like a stone in my stomach.

Under no circumstances should you enter the Underworld, unless you are certain that you will return.

“Have you rehearsed your answer for the Bridge of the Warlord’s Deaths?” Kirah asked, and I nodded. Ye Eun had drilled me in every Underworld riddle and obstacle I would encounter, forcing me to memorize the map on my skin. “Say it,” Kirah insisted. “Say your answer until you believe it. Why should you live?”