“Are you ready?” Tamar asked. “Once we begin this, there will be no turning back.”

Ehri rested her fingers on the strings of the khatuur. For a moment, she said nothing, tuning the instrument, guiding the notes to arrange themselves in the air, then letting them fade.

“I have never been so frightened,” she said. “I thought I could imagine this all as a performance, but it’s not, is it?”

“No,” said Tamar. “It’s very real.”

Mayu wanted to scream. They were really going to walk to the palace, out in the open, in the bright light of day. How could Tamar let the princess do something this foolish? They were never going to make it to the palace. Queen Makhi would simply send an assassin to pick them off before they ever set foot in the city proper. But Mayu was a soldier, and a soldier had to follow.

“I’ve never wanted to be the hero in any story,” Ehri said, gazing down at the softly curved neck of the khatuur. “I only wanted to sing their tales. A hero would think of the possibility of war, the lives that hung in the balance, the women who burned at a callous queen’s order. But I find it is my own life that worries me the most.”

Tamar tapped her axes. “That only means you’re a survivor, Princess. And that’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Ehri put her fingers to the strings. “Very well. Let’s begin.”

She descended the temple steps into the morning market. Instantly the shoppers left off their haggling to marvel at the sight of Ehri Kir-Taban, Daughter of Heaven, returned to them. Mayu knew this was not the first time the princess had played at the temple fields, but she was meant to be off in Ravka, courting and marrying a Ravkan king.

The princess glided through the marketplace in her leaf-green silks, her hair drawn back, a chrysanthemum tucked behind her left ear. She played her music and the people followed, pulling their children along with them, clapping and dancing. The song Ehri chose was no coincidence: “The Flower Maiden.” She is the sun, and springtime has returned.

As they entered the city, people emerged from their homes with bells and drums in hand to play along. They cast flowers into her path.

“They really do love her,” said Tamar in wonder.

“We heard you went to meet the barbarians!” someone cried.

“We thought you were to be wife to the Scarred King!”

“But you see I am back and unwed and just happy to be among you,” said Ehri, and the people cheered.

Over the bridge they paraded and Ehri struck up a new song, one triumphant and patriotic, a Shu soldiers’ anthem. A fighting song.

Queen Makhi was waiting for them on the wide palace balcony that overlooked the river.

“Sister!” she called, her arms open. “How like you to arrive in such fine style.”