The spirit grinned. “An old sweetheart? Sanjeet, come find me.” The spirit mercenary mimicked my voice in a girlish falsetto. “You’re in danger …”

“Don’t listen to him,” I snarled. “He’s not real. None of this is real. Jeet—”

“Afternoon heat’s making us delusional,” said the spirit with a convincing shudder. “There’s a place we can cool off over the hill. Beat you there.” It grinned at Sanjeet boyishly. “I’m as tall as you now, big brother.”

Sanjeet hesitated, but when the spirit beckoned, he jogged after him. Soon I heard him laugh again, that warm, incredulous sound.

“Oh, Jeet,” I sighed. “You and your damned guilt complex.”

Of course he would leave the path for Sendhil. Sanjeet had longed for his brother’s forgiveness, just as I had longed for his. The Bush had lured him with his deepest torment—and now I couldn’t save him. If I left the path, the Bush would simply bewitch me too.

I paced, a panther in a cage. Then I dropped to my knees and tore up the fragrant purple flowers. I rubbed the downy leaves on my skin and stuffed them in the crevices of my Guard uniform. The blossoms tickled in my throat as I swallowed a mouthful. I didn’t know if the protection would work, or for how long. But it was Sanjeet’s only chance … and so I lunged off the path, and into the illusion.

When at last I spotted him, Sanjeet was standing at the mouth of a murky brown pool. He had taken off his sword halter. The spirit-Sendhil was treading water, whooping and laughing. Even from a distance, I could hear the spirit’s taunts.

“What’s taking so long, big brother? Did you forget how to swim in that fancy Children’s Palace?”

“I can’t see the bottom,” said Sanjeet. His words sounded slurred, suspended between wake and sleep. I reached the pool just as his foot hovered at the water’s edge.

“No!” I grabbed his arm and yanked, toppling him backward. He landed with a confused grunt. I threw myself on top of him, snarling territorially at the Bush-spirit. “You can’t have him.”

“Tar?” Sanjeet blinked up at me, dazed. The kiriwi had enabled him to see me. “Where …?”

“Careful, brother,” the spirit-Sendhil cried. “It appeared out of nowhere; it must be a ghost. Don’t let it touch you.” Obediently Sanjeet pushed me off him and stood, backing away.

I leapt to my feet, brandishing fistfuls of kiriwi. “I’m not a ghost, Jeet. And if you go into that pool, you’ll never come out.”

The spirit laughed. “Too good for watering holes, brother?” It paused, carefully arranging its face to look sad. “Of course. Anointed Ones have fancy bathhouses. Must be nice. It’s no wonder you didn’t come find me after Father sent me away.”

“I didn’t want to stay away,” Sanjeet protested. Unconsciously, he moved toward the pool again. “Don’t ever think that, Sendhil. I’ll never stop being your brother.”

It was then I noticed an item on the ground, nestled with Sanjeet’s abandoned clothing: the pouch containing my imperial seal.

I stared for a moment, transfixed. The voices from the shadows returned, honeyed and pleading. Take it. Take it and return to the keep.

The spirit held Sanjeet’s gaze. “I called for you, and you didn’t come. But don’t feel bad, brother. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Sendhil.” Sanjeet’s voice was broken. He took another step.

You can’t save Sanjeet, the voices told me. Besides, he’ll never forgive what you did to Dayo. Take the pouch. Go back to your friends; this quest is too dangerous for a girl. You’ll find Melu another way, a safer way …

“There’s nothing to forgive, brother,” said the spirit as Sanjeet grew closer. “I know you didn’t really abandon me. You’re nothing like Father; you would never leave me to fend for my—” Then the spirit ducked beneath the water, and the pool was unnervingly still.

“Sendhil?” Sanjeet cried out, teetering over the water.

My trance broke. “Stop,” I barked, and seized his arm.

The spirit resurfaced, coughing and sputtering. “Something—it’s below—help me, brother—”

“It’s a trick,” I gasped, tightening my grip as Sanjeet grew frantic. “Jeet, why would Dhyrmish mercenaries be camping in the Oluwan Bush? Why would Sendhil just happen to find you?”

Sanjeet’s gaze snapped from me to the spirit, who screamed and flailed again. He freed himself easily from my grasp, preparing to jump.

“You once told me that Sendhil never lies,” I said in a rush. I didn’t want to continue; I hated to be cruel. But I had no choice. “Your brother wouldn’t deny that you abandoned him, Jeet. Because you did. You agreed with your father. Mercenaries took Sendhil because you didn’t protect him.”

Sanjeet froze. Firmly, I cupped his face and searched his mind for memories of the real Sendhil, drawing them painfully to the surface. Sanjeet gazed down at me, eyes clear and wet with shock.

“Lies will never set us free, Jeet.” Then I tossed a handful of kiriwi into the pool.

The spirit shrieked, and the pool turned chalky white. The water rippled, and in its place yawned a fathomless pit. Immediately I felt that pull, that malevolent hunger for souls and living blood.

“Run,” I said.

Hand in hand, Sanjeet and I barely managed to retrieve the pouch and weapon halter before sprinting across the Bush. Maybe the kiriwi gave us strength—or perhaps together, we were harder to overcome. Either way we somehow reached the path, collapsing in a pile among the leaves and purple blossoms.

As we caught our breath, I checked his skin for scrapes and bruises. He had sparred with spirit-Sendhil and could have sustained wounds that the Bush concealed.

“You stayed,” he said.

I peered up at him, puzzled.

“You stayed,” he repeated, staring at me. “Instead of going back to the keep. You had your seal. You could have gone back to Dayo and left me to die in the Bush.”

I paused my search, hands lingering on his chest. Then I stood and turned away, shrugging. “Even monsters can surprise you.”

He inhaled through his teeth. “Don’t—don’t call yourself that.”

“Why not?” I dusted off my Guard uniform. “You did.”

“I’m sorry.” When I didn’t turn around he said, “I mean it. Am’s Story, Tar—when I saw Dayo all bloody like that, and you standing over him, I lost my head. I couldn’t help it. But you didn’t deserve that. You … you aren’t The Lady.”

I stiffened, remembering spirit-Sanjeet’s caressing voice. “That isn’t true.”

“She isn’t you,” he countered. “You didn’t want to kill Dayo.”

“That’s the problem, Jeet. Part of me did.” I faced him so he knew I was serious. “When I attacked him I felt numb, but I also felt right. Like I was fixing a mistake that shouldn’t have been made. There was an … anger in my blood that had to be satisfied.”

“You didn’t choose to feel that way.”

“Does that matter? It’s still me.” I was pacing now, determined to have it out at last. “For years, I told myself that I was nothing like The Lady. That I would never be her. But my mother is part of me, Jeet. Just like your father is part of you. No, it isn’t fair. No, we don’t deserve the burdens that our parents gave us. But we can’t defeat monsters that we won’t face.” I thought for a moment, listening to the rustling grass, where illusions hid to steal our souls. “I thought I could forget. That if I buried it deep enough, The Lady’s wish would disappear. But if I’d been honest with myself, Dayo would have been safe. I never would have joined the council.”

“And I would have stayed chained to that pillar in the Children’s Palace,” said Sanjeet. “I would be the Prince’s Bear, with a rat’s skull as a token instead of a cowrie shell.” His voice was soft, and he appeared to consider taking my hand, just like spirit-Sanjeet had.

But instead we remained apart, staring at each other as if scouring mire from glass. A clear and cold reflection of our truest selves: the good and the monstrous.

“You had enough faith in me to cross a firepit,” Sanjeet said. “For everyone’s sake, Tar, have that faith in yourself.”

WE STUMBLED THROUGH THREE MORE FALSE landscapes before we reached the end of the Bush. The illusions had been made for Captain Bunmi and her four warriors, who had leapt into the Bush impulsively after seeing me disappear.

“We can’t leave them,” I said grimly. Sanjeet nodded and we swallowed kiriwi until we felt sick.

We found Captain Bunmi in a quiet field, surrounded by the bodies of dead imperial warriors. None of the corpses were real, of course—I could tell from the blood, which was too lurid, and from the way each body flickered when Bunmi wasn’t looking.

The captain sobbed on her knees, screaming the names of her comrades. I picked through the corpses and put a hand on her shoulder. She stared up at me, blankly.

“I … killed them,” Bunmi said. “They looked like enemies at first and then they … changed. The Bush tricked me, it tricked me—” She clawed at her head, desperate to expel the images lodged there.