Read an Excerpt From Her Radiant Curse

Channi was not born a monster. But when her own father offers her in sacrifice to the Demon Witch, she is forever changed…

We’re thrilled to share an excerpt from Her Radiant Curse by Elizabeth Lim, a heart-wrenching young adult fantasy that explores the dark side of beauty and the deepest bonds of sisterhood—out from Knopf Books for Young Readers on August 29.

Channi was not born a monster. But when her own father offers her in sacrifice to the Demon Witch, she is forever changed. Cursed with a serpent’s face, Channi is the exact opposite of her beautiful sister, Vanna—the only person in the village who looks at Channi and doesn’t see a monster. The only person she loves and trusts.

Now seventeen, Vanna is to be married off in a vulgar contest that will enrich the coffers of the village leaders. Only Channi, who’s had to rely on her strength and cunning all these years, can defend her sister against the cruelest of the suitors. But in doing so, she becomes the target of his wrath—launching a grisly battle royale, a quest over land and sea, a romance between sworn enemies, and a choice that will strain Channi’s heart to its breaking point.

Chapter Five

When my heartbeat steadies, I leave the kitchen and find Adah tending to his white stallion, a gift from Meguh last year.

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Her Radiant Curse

Time has weathered my father’s face, and wrinkles crease the area around his eyes. He stoops when he walks, and Lintang often threatens to tie a wooden rod to his spine so he’ll stand straight.

He needs no reminder today. Anyone can tell how eagerly he anticipates the rank and fortune his radiant daughter is about to bring him. He’s wearing his best tunic, and his beard’s been trimmed. Today, a brighter future awaits him.

Even though he’s in a good mood, sweat slicks my temples as I approach him, and it is not just from the humidity.

I try to temper the emotions I have for my father, but it’s hard. When we lived in our old house, he would make me go out into the fields to scare away the crows pecking at our banana tree. All I had to do was show my face, and the birds exploded into the sky in terror.

I’ve never forgotten how eerily their shrieks sounded like my own.

At least this new house has no banana trees. It faces east and does not have stilts, since there is little flooding on this side of our island. There is a courtyard, a rice barn, a freestanding hut that we use as the kitchen, and two separate buildings—one for sleeping, and one for entertaining. The move was very exciting for Vanna and Lintang, but I still miss our old place by the jungle, the hut we lived in before Adah cared more about money than his daughters.

Vanna is far from earshot, praying at the courtyard shrine with Lintang, but I keep my voice quiet anyway, almost a mumble: “Adah.”

Adah is stroking his stallion’s mane. I half expect him to pretend I’m not here, but he sets the brush aside and says, “I’ve told you never to go outside without your mask on.”

A flash of anger stabs my chest. I smother it and drag my mask out of my pocket. It is plain, unlike the skin I wear. The rough wood clings to the ridges on my scales, sticky with humidity, but what I hate most is how hard it is to breathe when I’m wearing it. There’s only a thin slit for my mouth, and nothing for my nose, which is flat against my skull anyway—like a snake’s.

Adah carved it for me soon after I was cursed. He spent days pounding the bark and sanding the wood down until it was smooth. Back then, it was too big, and I had to tie it around my head with a string. Still, though I despise it, it’s a reminder that he once cared.

It was so long ago it’s almost a dream, but I still remember the relief in his eyes when he first saw me the morning Mama died. “You’re alive,” he had breathed, rushing to embrace me. “Angma didn’t take you.”

I remember how that relief slowly curdled into horror, and how he washed my face again and again, growing rougher with each attempt. I remember how he struggled to look at me with tenderness, and how, eventually, he gave up. When the rest of the village came to shun me, it was easier for him to join them than it was to defend his own daughter. And now here we are.

My mask is on. I breathe in and try again. “Adah.”

“What is it?”

“I’d like to go to Vanna’s binding selection.”

Adah stiffens. It is perhaps the only trait my father and I share, how we both become agitated in the same way. His jaw locks, and his shoulders go straighter than the horizon.

When our eyes meet, the narrow slits of my pupils are reflected in his. I do not look away. Whatever power I can claim over Adah, I will take. And I will not be the first to look away.

He flinches and averts his gaze. “You are forbidden to enter the village.”

“But—”

“It’s for your own good.” He’s trying to contain his anger, unlike most days. “No one’s seen you in years. They’ve almost forgotten about you.”

“I’ll keep quiet,” I insist. “I’ll stand behind someone’s tent, out of sight.”

“No is no.”

“Vanna wants me there. No one will notice me.”

At that, Adah raises a square hand. Fury hardens his eyes, and I go still, waiting for him to strike. But Vanna is too close. She’d see.

The tassels on his sleeve sway as he lowers his arm.

“Do you really think no one would notice you?” he says harshly. “King Meguh nearly saw you just now. That face of yours could have cost your sister everything. Everything!”

Emotions cling to my throat. I can’t breathe. “Why is it always about my face?”

“It’s who the fates have made you. A monster.”

My tongue itches to tell him he’s the monster, not me. But I don’t argue. I fear that if I do, I will cry. And I promised myself long ago I would never weep in front of my father.

It’s because of Vanna that he tolerates me. I know that every time I disappear into the jungle he wishes that I would never come back. But I do, only to feel the pain again and again of a wound that will not close. To feel the hope that Adah will one day open his eyes and remember I am his daughter too.

Adah and I face off, locked in our second standstill of the day, when Vanna calls out from the shrine in the courtyard. “Look, look!” she squeals.

My sister’s voice knifes through the tension between us, and Adah goes to her. She’s twirling into the courtyard with moon orchids in her hair—her favorite flower, matching the embroidered ones on her skirt.

“Aren’t they beautiful?” she exclaims, touching her braids.

“Now you are a woman,” Lintang says, picking a stray leaf off Vanna’s shoulder before ushering her to the gate. “Careful down the steps. The mud from the rains last week still hasn’t dried. Don’t step on the carpet with your wet feet.”

Vanna glances back, noting the distance between Adah and me before I retreat to a shadowed corner. A crease furrows her smooth brow, and to Lintang’s dismay, my sister hurries toward me. She touches my shoulders. “Channi, why are you hiding like this? Come. Come.”

She tries to nudge me to the front, but Adah won’t allow it. “Get back inside, Channi.”

Vanna blocks me. “Why should she go back inside? I want her to come.”

“Hurry, Vanna. You’ll be late.” He lifts a confused Vanna onto the stallion. It nickers and kicks, spying me in my corner. Horses do not like snakes, and that includes me.

“Channi is coming,” says Vanna. She whirls on Adah. “Or I will—”

“You will what?” Adah is irritated at Vanna, but his eyes are on me. “You won’t go?”

My stepmother casts me a harrowed glance, as if it’s my fault that she’ll have to make peace and lie to Vanna. “Enough, Vanna,” she soothes my sister. “Of course Channi is coming. Adah will take you to the village first. I’ll walk behind you, and Channi will follow once she’s finished washing the courtyard stones.”

I hate myself for not speaking up, but Adah and Lintang are happiest when they forget I exist, and Vanna is happiest when everyone else is happy. So I force a smile and watch them leave. Vanna waves from her horse and blows me a kiss, but I pretend not to see. It hurts less that way.

My eyes drift to the little houses down the pebbled path. Many of our neighbors hurry out of their homes to join Vanna’s entourage.

“Good luck with the contest, Vanna!” they shout.

“Khuan, your daughter grows prettier every day!”

“Find her a rich one, Khuan!”

The voices grow faint, and once Adah, Lintang, and Vanna disappear down the slope of the dirt road, I take off my mask and let my face breathe.

“Pathetic, Channi,” I mumble at myself. “Pathetic.”

I kick the wall, hating Adah, the binding selection, and Vanna for going along with it. Hating myself for being a coward.

Puntalo Village isn’t far. I could go. I used to sneak out when I was younger, while Adah and Lintang worked at the cassava farms. I would ask anyone, everyone, what they knew of Angma and if they’d heard of Hokzuh.

The last time I went, Adah caught me. As punishment, he dragged me to the river and threw me in. I couldn’t swim, and he waited—almost too long—before fishing me out.

“If I catch you going to the village again,” he warned me as I coughed up river water, “next time I won’t save you.”

For the rest of the day, he locked me in the rice barn, and he forbade Vanna from visiting. My sweet little sister came anyway, with hardboiled eggs she’d snuck into her pockets from dinner. While I gobbled them down, she hugged me. “You shouldn’t disobey Adah,” she said. “It only angers him.”

How serious she sounded, as if she were the older one, not me.

“But Angma—”

“You can’t protect me if Adah hurts you,” she said. She’d kept one egg, still hot, and carefully rolled it over my bruises and swollen eyes. “Don’t let him hurt you. I need you, Channi.”

I need you, Channi.

Words that undo me, even when I am only remembering them.

In the following weeks, Vanna took me to the river. Every morning, with the patience of the goddess Su Dano, she taught me to float, to work through the fear of my reflection, to swim.

For so many years, I’ve been focused on saving her life. I forget how many times, in little ways, she’s saved mine.

I grab my mask and put on my sandals. It doesn’t matter whether Angma will show herself today, or whether she will wait for Vanna’s birthday. Angma is not the only monster that walks this earth.

My sister needs me, and I will not let her down.