Her paper wings had begun to flutter, and slowly, hesitantly, she lifted into the air, with the uncertainty of a nestling just learning to fly. In the weeks that followed, when my lessons were done and my brothers were too busy to see me, I would help her practice in secret. I took her out to the garden to fly among the pruned trees and stone sanctuaries, and at night, I told her stories.
I’d been so happy to have a friend that I didn’t worry about the implications of having magic.
And now she was gone.
“No,” I whispered, finally replying to Hasho’s question. “I don’t know how.”
He drew a deep breath. “Then it’s for the best. You shouldn’t be dabbling in magic you can’t control. If anyone finds out, you’ll be sent away from Kiata for good.”
Hasho lifted my chin to wipe my tears. “And if you’re sent away, far from home, who will watch out for you, little sister? Who will keep your secrets safe and make excuses for your mischief? Not I.” He smiled at me, a small, sad smile. “So be good. Please?”
“I’m already going to be sent far away,” I replied, twisting from him.
Falling to my knees, I picked up the scraps of paper my stepmother had flung onto the floor. I held Kiki close to myheart, as if that would bring her back to life. “She was my friend.”
“She was a piece of paper.”
“I was going to wish her into a real crane.” My voice faltered, my throat swelling as I glanced at the pile of birds I’d folded. Almost two hundred, but none had come alive like Kiki.
“Don’t tell me you believe the legends, Shiori,” said Hasho gently. “If everyone who folded a thousand birds got a wish, then every person would spend their days making paper sparrows and owls and gulls—wishing for mountains of rice and gold, and years of good harvest.”
I said nothing. Hasho didn’t understand. He had changed. All my brothers had changed.
My brother sighed. “I’ll speak to Father about your coming out to the Summer Festival when he’s in a more charitable mood. Would that make you feel better?”
Nothing could make me feel better about Kiki, but I gave a small nod.
Hasho knelt beside me and squeezed my shoulder. “Maybe these next few weeks with Stepmother will be good for you.”
I shrugged him away. Everyone always sided with her. Even the servants, though they might call her Raikama behind her back, never had anything ill to say about her. Nor did my brothers. Or Father.EspeciallyFather.
“I’ll never forgive her for this. Never.”
“Shiori…our stepmother isn’t to blame for what happened.”
You are,I could almost hear him saying, though Hasho was too wise to let the words slip.
He was right, but I wouldn’t admit it. Something about the way she’d looked when she’d heard I met a dragon left me cold.
“It can’t be easy for her, being so far from her home. She has no friends here. No family.”
“She has Father.”
“You know what I mean.” My brother sat beside me, cross-legged. “Make peace with her, all right? If anything, it’ll make things easier when I ask Father to let you out for the festival.”
I gritted my teeth. “Fine, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to talk to her.”
“Must you be so petulant?” Hasho prodded. “She cares for you.”
I faced my brother, taking in his creased brow, the twitch of his left eye. All signs he was truly exasperated with me. Quietly, I said, “You don’t believe me, do you? About the dragon.”
Hasho waited too long before answering. “Of course Ido.”
“You don’t. I’m sixteen, not a child. I know what I saw.”
“Whatever you saw, forget it,” he urged. “Forget Kiki, forget the dragon, forget whatever it is you did to make all this happen.”
“I didn’tmakeit happen. It just happened.”
