is?”

Yara goes to the stream, but first she shoots me an evil glare,

much like the girls in school. I lean my head against the trunk,

moving the blood down my throat. Yara comes back and kneels beside me

and drops the handfuls of water on my head.

“You’re a tough chick,” I say. “And I mean it in the best possible

way.”

“I’m not a chick.” She stands over me. “I am Yara, maiden warrior

of the River Clan.” She holds her hand out. The bleeding has stopped.

I take her hand and stand in front of her. No weapons. Just the

strength of our fists. She leans back. Her stance is strong. I realize

she leans too much on her right side. I can use this.

She motions me with her fingers. “Again.”

“What happened to your face?” Kai shrieks.

Not the usual response I get when girls see me. After days of rock

climbing with Grumble-I throw myself off now-and hand to hand with

Yara, my face has taken a good beating. I’ve gotten so good at

disarming her that she smashed my face into a tree again. I have a new

cut on my eyebrow.

“Good thing they don’t have mirrors,” I say, throwing myself on

the furs beside Kai. She has taken the river people’s history scrolls

and has been reading them nonstop.

I press my finger on the sensitive bruise on the bridge of my nose

and wince.

“This is strange,” Kai says. She retraces the lines she just read.

“What is?” I press my hands on my face. “Is it that bad?”

“In the records of the clan’s people, there is mention of Amada,

daughter of the leader Isi. But we haven’t met her. And she isn’t on

the list of the daughters sent to court.”

“Maybe she died?”

Kai shakes her head. “They keep records of their dead as well as

their living. Their numbers are less than ours.”

“I thought they were part of ours.”

But I’ve stopped listening. The ache of my body, the adrenaline

buzzing through me, is strong. I know I’m ready to fight the Naga. I

know it in my bones. As if sensing my thoughts, Kai says, “You’re in

no shape to fight anyone, Tristan. Least of all the Naga.”

“They’re stalling,” I say. I can lift a whole tree pole with my

bare hands and throw it. I can do handstands for hours without

toppling over. I can run across a field with stones draped over my

shoulders. I’ve wrestled their best warriors and won. “Why are they

stalling?”

I shake my head. “They haven’t even gone hunting since we got

here.”

My stomach twists into knots. They remind me that we’re outside of

time, but I still feel like I’m missing it. Like I’m going to return

home and it won’t be there.

Brendan sticks his head through the tent door. “Come, you two. The

feast is about to start. The daughters of the tribe are putting on a

dance in our honor.”

Kai arches her eyebrow. “Our?”

“Fine.” Brendan sighs, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Tristan’s

honor. Dylan’s already there.”

“We’re having a debate,” I say. “Come in here.”

Brendan looks over his shoulder to make sure the coast is clear

then joins us. “Do tell.”

“I think the clan is stalling my fight with the beast. Kai thinks

I’m not prepared.”

“I didn’t say that!” She shuffles her papers so hard that she

nearly rips one in half.

Brendan smiles easily. He reminds me of me three weeks ago. “Do

you feel ready?”

“A hundred percent. A hundred and ten percent.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Brendan smirks. “Then do it.”

“But Isi said-” Kai argues.

Brendan holds up a finger. “Isi left us a basket of goddess fruit,

which makes the children here happy and carefree and forgetful.”

We sit in silence. I realize Brendan might act the fool sometimes,

but he never stops observing people.

“If you feel ready, then go. You are a prince of the Sea Court.

Besides, with me around, no one will be looking for you. That’s a

promise.” He winks.

Kai shakes her head. “Tristan, be careful. We still don’t have a

way out of here.”

“One thing at a time,” I say. “Let’s go pay me some honor.”

Kai and I follow Brendan to where the whole village is gathered

around a tall fire. Old men blow on wooden pipes that remind me of the

pan flutes Layla’s dad brought back from Ecuador. After weeks of

trying to learn-poor Mrs. Santos-he finally hung it on his kitchen

wall along with his Panama hat. The river people’s music sounds like

mountains whistling down their valleys, along with the rustle of

rainstick and tambourines. Instead of metal, the cymbals are made of

hard shells and rocks that tinkle like wind chimes.

Isi stands over the fire. Her long, violet hair is braided down to

her hips on either side. She looks like a phoenix in her long,

feathery robes. Beside her, Yara wears an intricate leather dress. Her

brown skin shimmers like light on water. Beside her is the veiled

woman I have only seen once in the tent of council elders. The oracle.

Standing up, she is hunched like a question mark, with long hair the

color of moss peeking through the bottom of her black veil.

“Land Prince, Tristan Hart,” Isi speaks to me. “You honor us here.

By taking strength from us, you have accepted the challenge of the

Naga who roams the outer circle of our plane. Her talons have ripped

our children to shreds. Her teeth have devoured generations of our

warriors.”

I swallow my drink down the wrong hole and cough-choke. Brendan

punches it out of me.

“That’s comforting,” Dylan mutters beside me, adjusting the

platinum band around his head.

“Tonight, we gift you and yours with the symbol of the river

goddess, who refused the salt gifts of Poseidon and chose the shade of

trees.”

I look at Kai. “Gift?”

Kai shrugs then turns her back to me, showing where her trident

tattoo is located between her shoulder blades. Yara lifts a copper

branding iron, and the oracle holds a jar filled with some red stuff.

I think of the time I first met Kurt. He showed up in my bathtub. He

held a slender vial of ink between his fingers and said some magic

words. Then blam! The tattoo was burned into my skin to help me

control my shifting.

The iron is held over the fire. It lights red like the end of a

cigarette. Kai takes my hand eagerly. Brendan hesitates but tries hard

to maintain his smile. Dylan fidgets but won’t back out. The four of

us approach in a line.

I should go first. I bite down hard, preparing myself for it-the

music gets louder, thickened by the voices of the clan.

“Tristan Hart,” Yara says. “Your honor, strength, and valor are

admired by our people. Come what may, you always have a place here.”

She looks at me the entire time she says that, and I believe her.

Her words are so nice that I stop clenching my teeth. The iron digs

into my skin. I whimper but stare straight into the brown and gold

swirls of her eyes. Burning skin smells like bacon, and then I

remember that’s me.

There’s nothing quite as gratifying as someone listing your good

qualities and having the end of it be a poker to the chest. She pulls

it back, cool wind kissing the sting off my skin. And then comes the

pain.

Oh.

I shake so hard that I take a knee. The old woman is unveiled, a

face like tree bark staring right at me with pitch-black eyes

reflecting the fire pit behind me. Her hand is on my chest, patting

red powder into the outline of the iron burn. The stuff cools the

burn, and then I stand back up.

Next in line is Kai. She concentrates on a spot on Yara’s forehead