It’s then that I realize that this Court of Hunger has nothing to do with food or starvation. It has to do with her hunger—for companionship. For someone to call a friend. Someone to love and keep and dote upon.
As I stare down at her, I can’t help but think about the time I fell into a hunter’s pit, left down there for moons with no hope in sight. There was nothing so torturous as the cloying realization that I might never get out. But at least my sisters tried their best to rescue me. Kelai has no one at all.
Sonam silently offers me my mask, holding it out so that I can press my face into the cup of his palms. The magic takes hold and I stand tall, taking a deep breath as I crane my neck over the edge of the hole. My fingers are red, almost raw from digging. I clench my fists just to feel the sting. Sonam notices, his brows knitted together, but he makes no comment.
“We should go,” he says softly. Too softly. It makes my heart flutter.
“Right,” I whisper.
Kelai’s wails decrescendo into nothing more than sniffles and whimpers. She’s fallen far from her seat in Heaven.
“W-won’t you come back?” she asks weakly. “Please, just—will you come back to at least visit?”
My chest seizes. I’m not sure if Kelai is aware of what she’s doing, or if it’s merely an accident. Either way, I’m compelled to answer. No one in their right mind would want to deliberately spend time in Hell. I have to get back to the surface, to see Sonam safely back to the mortal coil. But if I tell her no, I may as well strikeKelai across the face. It would certainly hurt her less. One thing is certain, however—whatever my answer, it must be the truth.
“I’ll come back,” Sonam answers before I have a chance. “Once I’ve guided them from this place, I’ll come back to see you.”
I’m surprised by his response, but I’m grateful all the same. The burning compulsion I feel to answer quickly fades into nothing more than a spark. There’s no need for me to tell the truth now that Sonam has spoken on my behalf.
Kelai’s face brightens, beautiful even despite her tears and puffy cheeks. She glows bright at his words, offering a glimpse of the radiant star she once was. “R-really?” she stammers. “Oh, bless you, my child. Bless you—”
“Ifyou give me that map you spoke of.”
I ignore the bitter taste of guilt coating my tongue. I should have known Sonam would have conditions. It doesn’t feel good or fair to lord anything over Kelai’s head when her defeat is so clear.
After a moment, Kelai nods, lifting her arm toward us. “Give me your hand,” she says. “I’ll draw it on your palm.”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “If you know the way out, why haven’t you attempted to leave Hell after all this time?”
“This map is only a spell,” she explains. “It will guide you to what your heart most desires. And the way out is what you seek, is it not?”
The air is thick and heavy, the stench of mistrust—bitter like bile.
“Let me do it,” I say. I manage a single step forward before Sonam outstretches his arm, stopping me from going any farther.
“It could be another trick,” he warns.
“All the more reason for me to handle it.”
“You’ve done enough, Fox.”
I hover warily, watching for any sign of treachery as Sonamsteps forward and reaches down toward Kelai. She grasps onto his hand so tight I fear she might try to drag him back down. I’m directly beside him, prepared to wrench him back, but the exchange is so quick that I nearly miss it. Sonam pulls back with a hiss as if burned, and upon closer inspection I notice—hehasbeen.
Bright red welts run the length of his palm lines, the smell of cooked flesh searing the inside of my nose. It’s a crude rendition, as far as maps go, our path laid out across Sonam’s hand with a few blisters serving as landmarks.
“You’ll have a few more courts to endure, I’m afraid,” Kelai explains tiredly, “but after the Court of Despair, you’ll find a servant’s corridor. It will save a lot of time.” And then, in a much smaller voice, “That way you can come back and see me again sooner.”
The humans turn away first, but I linger. I listen to Kelai sobbing softly and feel nothing but pity.
“Yue,” Sonam calls gently. His hand hovers over the small of my back, too far for contact, but close enough that I can feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric of my dress. I wonder if his refusal to follow through is out of fear or respect.
“Were you telling the truth?” I whisper. “Will you really come back?”
There’s a hardness in his eyes that makes my heart stutter. I can smell his guilt, tangy like citrus peels. But I can smell his resolve, too, like copper left to bake in the sun.
“No,” he answers, also in a whisper. “I said what had to be said.”
He is the first to turn and leave, followed quickly by Wen and Sooah. I have no choice but to follow, the star goddess left behind alone in the darkness.
