"No." Rama's hand closed around his daughter's shoulder before she could take a second step, pulling her back against him hard enough that she gasped. He dropped to one knee to put his face level with hers even as the room's cold pressed in from every side. "No. Not you. Not ever you. Do you understand me."
"But Niken," she said, tears cutting bright tracks down her face, four years old and trying to bargain with something older than the kingdom around them. "It's hurting her because of me. I can make it stop."
"You can't buy her safety with yours," Sekar said, close beside them now, one arm wrapped tight around both of them at once. "That's not a trade. That's just losing you instead of her, and I won't survive that, sayang. None of us will."
The presence, still wearing Niken's small rigid shape, let out a sound that might have been laughter, cold and entirely without mirth. "Sentiment again," it said. "How tiresome you all are, and how predictable."
