“Where they might be keeping her?” Levi added, more subdued. Perhaps realizing how similar their troubles were. Her sister. His brother.
“Jian-so brings her to my chamber every month,” Ana-si said. “If I do not make him angry. She is somewhere in the palace, but I do not know for sure. We are never left alone and cannot speak freely. Her guards, they are all women. Old and young. They are different every time.”
Silence fell as Reyna and Levi absorbed this.
Ana-si said, “We must go.”
“She’s right.” Levi stood. “We need to think how to do this first. Find the girl, wake the men. Escape. What will they be like afterward?” he asked Ana-si. “Can they fight?”
Ana-si said, “It will be as if they woke from a normal sleep. But the clay . . . they will be clumsy.”
The pool surrounding the burial chamber lay undisturbed. The water had come from the mountains. “They’ll need to wash,” Reyna said. “Their weapons, too.”
Levi went to his brother, then looked back at Ana-si. “Just another song, you said. Simple.”
“Yes.”
“Show me,” Levi said.
Ana-si rose. She shook her head.
“One man only,” Levi insisted. “As a show of good faith. And I promise you I will find your sister.”
Ana-si’s fists were clenched. She spoke, not to Levi, but to Reyna. “One man. Your Jaime.”
Levi looked furious and . . . stung. Reyna could not risk Ana-si changing her mind. She ran, and was the first to reach Jaime.
“Stand there,” Ana-si said.
Reyna moved aside. Levi hung back. Using a fingernail, Ana-si tapped around Jaime’s eye sockets until the clay cracked and crumbled away. She did the same with his ears, then stood on her tiptoes and brought her face close to his. Her voice was soft, the song for him only.
Jaime blinked. One moment his eyes were blank and the next they were his own, staring down at Ana-si with a bemused expression.
“Hello there,” he said, and smiled. Or tried to. “What . . .” He looked past her, to Levi rooted in place, to Reyna with both hands clamped over her mouth. A puzzled frown. “Reyna, love. What—”
A whisper from Ana-si, and Jaime was gone, locked inside his clay prison once again.
Ana-si turned to them, her expression apologetic but determined.
“My sister first.”
Twenty-Four
“WHY WOULD SHE HELP US?” Levi said.
They were back in Reyna’s chamber. Once Ana-si had led them through the tunnels, she had not lingered. They sat on the floor in the middle of the room, as far away from the walls as they could get.
“What do you mean?” Reyna said. They spoke in whispers, heads close together.
“We find Mei, reunite her with her sister, and then what? Why would Ana-si help us? If I were her, I would disappear. I would just go.”
“She gave us her word.”
“She’s not human, Reyna.” Her hair was loose about her shoulders. He reached for a strand, twined it absently between his fingers. “Or not entirely. I still don’t understand what she is. But Jian-so, who is like us, has done her nothing but harm. Why would she keep that promise?”
A fair question. But. “She loves her sister.”
“Yes.”
“As much as you love Asher. She understands family.” Reyna pressed her fingers to his lips when he would have spoken. His lips were warm against her skin. It was an effort to remember what they were discussing. “How can we say she doesn’t understand other things, like keeping her word? We’re more alike than we’re different. I believe her.” She dropped her hand. “Besides, what choice do we have?”
Levi’s expression was troubled. “I hope that’s true. Because one pretty song from her and we’re helpless. Everyone except you and Blaise.”
At that, Reyna looked around the chamber. The candles here were not made of tallow, a stinking, smoking substance that filled the lungs with smoke and the eyes with tears. These candles were the color of honeyed cream. Their light burned bright, accompanied by the pleasing aroma of pure beeswax.
“What are you doing?” Levi asked when she rose and went to stand in front of two lit tapers. She beckoned him over.
With Levi watching, Reyna blew a candle out and broke it into many little pieces. She held one near the remaining flame, far enough away not to burn her fingers. The wax softened; once it did, she rolled it between her palms to form a ball. Not too big, not too little. Roughly the size of a marble. She set it on the table and did the same with the second piece, then blew on them until they cooled. “Here. Come closer.”
Levi lowered his head toward hers. Reyna pressed a ball into each of his ears. “Can you hear what I’m saying?” She spoke in a normal tone, neither whispering nor shouting. Levi’s gaze dropped to her lips, saw them move. His brows drew together in a small frown before his eyes met hers, his question clear: What are you saying?
Good. Carefully she removed the plugs. They had molded to the unique shape of his ears. These were more efficient than the wax plugs one could buy at the markets. Because they had been made to fit his ears specifically, they would be better able to keep out sound. Any sound. From anyone. She hoped. She offered them to him.
“You’re brilliant.” Levi took her hand, kissed her knuckles, and she smiled.
“They’re still a little soft,” she warned. “Keep them with you always, Levi, and the instant you hear—”
“I’ll be careful.” Levi glanced at the door. “Can you make more?”
“Yes.”
He let Samuel, Hamish, and Benjamin into the chamber. They shuffled in, red-faced and avoided looking at the bed at all costs. Then they saw Reyna standing by a candle, fully dressed and rolling balls of wax between her palms. Their embarrassment turned to confusion. Levi explained all that had occurred while they had stood guard outside.
“What did you think we were doing?” Reyna could not help asking Samuel.
“Ah . . . uh . . .”
“Hmm.” Reyna pressed the wax into his ears.
The three newcomers looked sheepish, Levi amused. They left soon after. Reyna eyed the screen behind her bed. Five seconds later, she crept down the hall to Blaise’s room. If she was to be murdered in her sleep, at least she would not be alone.
* * *
Reyna could not say what woke her. Not Blaise, who slept quietly beside her, one arm flung over her eyes. Reyna only saw the faintest outline of her friend. There were no candles, just moonbeams through the windows. She held herself still beneath the blanket and listened to the sounds of the night.
Crickets chirped beyond the walls. Sleepy footsteps padded by outside the door. Across the chamber, a voice spoke softly.
“Please help me.”
“Ana?” Reyna bolted upright. She shook Blaise’s shoulder hard enough she nearly fell off the mattress.
Blaise mumbled, “What? What?”
Reyna batted aside the netting. She fumbled around until she felt the candle on the table. Within moments the chamber was bathed in a soft light. Ana-si crouched by the door, her arms wrapped around her knees. Her face bathed in sweat.
Blaise, beyond vexed, had started to drag a pillow over her face before catching sight of their visitor. She froze. An instant later, she was by Ana-si’s side. “Help me move her. Careful, Reyna.”
They lifted Ana-si beneath each arm and walked her to the bed. They sat her down and knelt before her. Unlike Ana-si, still in the dress she had worn to the tombs, they wore long white nightgowns, ruffled at cuff and collar.
“Where does it hurt?” Blaise asked.
Ana-si’s head had drooped. She lifted it long enough to say, “Where does it not?”
Blaise was quiet. “We need to remove your dress. All right?”
Ana-si nodded.
“Good. Reyna, another candle.”
Reyna lit a second taper, then helped Blaise undress Ana-si. She thought she had braced herself for what she was
about to see. Nothing could have prepared her.
Ana-si had a woman’s body. On it, innumerable red bumps covered her skin from shoulder to hip. As if every pore were inflamed. Reyna knelt with the candle and wondered that her hand could remain so steady.
“What happened?” Blaise said quietly.
“When I first arrived here,” Ana-si said, “after they took my sister, there was a man. A doctor. Jian-so told him he wanted my feathers pulled and my wings . . . cut. He said the same would happen to Mei if I did not do as he asked.”
Reyna looked around to Ana-si’s back, where, in addition to the red holes, she saw a long, hideous scar in the shape of a V. The candleholder shook in her grasp.
Feathers plucked. Wings cut. “Will they grow back?” Reyna said.
“No.” Ana-si closed her eyes briefly. “Never.”
Blaise, paler than she had been a minute ago, took Ana-si’s hands, spreading her arms to better see the damage Jian-so and his doctor had caused. “Do you scratch these?”
“Yes.”
“Do they appear to heal somewhat before you scratch?”
“Yes.”
Blaise looked at Reyna. “Sound familiar?”
Reyna touched the scar on her own chin. “She needs aloe.”
“Plenty of it, among other things. I don’t have close to enough.”
“There are aloe plants in the courtyard,” Ana-si said.
“Are there?” Blaise turned to Reyna, who was already on her feet.
“How much do I need?” Reyna asked.
Blaise said, “As much as you can carry. Don’t get caught.”
Reyna left the candle by the bedside and grabbed Blaise’s cloak before slipping from the chamber. A single torch on a wall lit the corridor. Reyna would not have to stumble blindly in the dark. She did not rush. Hurried footsteps would provoke curiosity if someone happened to be awake in their bed. In the courtyard, beneath a full moon, she searched for the aloe, eventually discovering two large pots in a corner. She spread Blaise’s cloak on the grass and, using the dagger Mercedes had given her, began slicing off the leaves above the root. She tossed the leaves onto the cloak.
“What are you doing?”
Reyna bit back a scream and spun, dagger in hand. It was Tori-si. Blaise’s patient. A bandage lay flat against her neck where her boil had once grown unchecked. Seeing Reyna’s dagger, she stepped back, eyes fearful.
Reyna lowered her dagger. She stammered, “It’s for Blaise.”
Tori-si looked down at the small mountain of aloe leaves. “Only her?”
Reyna could not think of a lie that would help her. “And the prince’s companion. Ana-si.”
Tori-si was quiet. She pointed to the opposite end of the courtyard. “There’s more over there. Come on.”
One found help in the most unexpected places. They dragged the cloak across the courtyard.
“What are you doing out here?” Reyna asked.
“I was returning from the privy when I saw you. We must be quiet. There could be others.”
While Reyna cut the leaves from one pot, Tori-si sped the task by snapping off the leaves from another. After they had decimated every aloe plant in sight, Tori-si gathered the edges of the cloak together and handed the sizable bundle to Reyna.
Reyna thanked her, and Tori-si said, “She must not be in Blaise’s chamber after dawn. Otherwise, it will not be good for your prince. There are eyes everywhere.”
“I understand.”
Tori-si’s chamber was down a different corridor. They went their separate ways.
Blaise made quick work of mixing the aloe with additional medicines from her box. Reyna held Ana-si’s hand as Blaise applied a thick coating of salve across the girl’s torso, back, and arms. Ana-si could not lie down; she had to remain upright so as not to smear the ointment. When Blaise was done, she wrapped Ana-si in winding strips of linen.
Reyna went to the window and peered out. Dawn was not far off. “I’ll walk her back to her chamber. Others will be waking soon.”
Blaise protested, but Ana-si said, “She is not wrong. I will go myself. I am better.”
Reyna and Blaise helped her dress. It did look as if the salve had worked wonders. Ana-si’s movements remained slow, but the pain in her eyes had lessened. She said, simply, “Thank you,” and was startled when Blaise kissed her, once on each cheek, and said, “I am very sorry you were hurt.”
* * *
When Reyna told the men what had happened to Ana-si, she was met with a full ten seconds of silence. They were in Levi’s courtyard, where a table had been set up for their breakfast. Four Miranese servants stood patiently at one end of the courtyard, waiting to be summoned.
Samuel was the first to speak. “We used to pluck the chickens back home when we were boys. It was our job. We lived on a farm.” He looked spooked.
“They weren’t still living when we plucked them,” Hamish said, a touch defensive. “We wrung their necks first. And they were just chickens, Brother.”
“How do you know they were just chickens?” Samuel demanded.
Blaise pushed her food around her plate without appetite.
“They won’t grow back?” Levi was dressed all in brown with a short green cloak. He would be leaving soon to spend the day hunting with Jian-so. Benjamin had spread Levi’s arrows along the far end of the table, inspecting each one before the hunt. The arrows lay forgotten as he listened to Ana-si’s story.
“She says not.” Reyna’s own plate lay before her, untouched. “If you could have seen her face. She spoke of finding another group like theirs. I’m not sure they’ll accept her the way she is. I have never ever in my life seen anything so cruel.”
Levi took one of the arrows and inspected its point. “We have to find her sister. The question is how?”
“All we know is that she might be in the palace and that she’s guarded by females, though we don’t know whom.”
“That’s not much,” Samuel said.
“No,” Reyna agreed. “But Blaise and I can start there, in the women’s quarters.”
Levi was thoughtful. “Then you’ll stay behind today. Two women aren’t going to be missed on a hunting trip.”
Blaise finally spoke. “Reyna will be missed,” she said. “She’s your scribe. Even if she weren’t, you’ve seen the way he looks at her. He’ll wonder.”
“Let him.” Levi’s expression turned flat. “Let him wonder. Let him ask.” He tossed the arrow back onto the table. “I’ll think of something. You two stay here. Find Mei. I’ll keep his attention off the both of you.”
Twenty-Five
FIND MEI. Words easier said than done. Over the next few days, Reyna scurried about the grounds with her notebook, befriending the women of the palace by drawing their portraits, writing down their songs, and playing with their babies. Her efforts to learn Miranese made them laugh. Not only the females in her living quarters, but noblewomen as well, who found her foreignness intriguing. They grew used to seeing her; they spoke comfortably in her presence. To no avail. If there was a child named Mei anywhere in the palace, no one mentioned her to Reyna.
But what she noticed was this: There was a girl who dined in the great hall who had peculiar habits. Around twelve years old, the same servant who had replaced Jian-so’s broken knife at supper that first night. She always dined alone; she spoke to no one and, as far as Reyna could tell, no one spoke to her. The girl ate her meal quickly, one arm curved around her plate in a way that had Reyna wondering if she was part of a large family. Whenever Reyna visited Blaise in Montserrat, she noticed her friend eating the same way. Fast, arm guarding her food from grasping, grabbing siblings. Before the girl left the hall, she always filled a second plate and took it with her.
“Who is the girl?” Reyna asked her dining companion.
Poma-si looked around. She had a red dot painted on her lip. “Hama-si? She is no one. A maid. An orphan.”
Blaise, kneeling across from Reyna, paused in her chewin
g, expression carefully blank. Reyna bristled at Poma-si’s words and tried not to show it. Was the girl a no one because she was a lowly maid or because she was an orphan? Or both? Indignation filled her on behalf of all orphans everywhere.
Tori-si was kneeling beside Blaise. The bandage on her neck was smaller today. She eyed Reyna curiously. “Why do you ask?”
“I only wondered. No one talks to her.”
“They’re not being unkind,” Tori-si said. “The girl does not speak.”
That interested Blaise, who turned to look. “Never?”
“Only a few years,” Tori-si said. “Since the sickness took her family. Her parents and eight brothers and sisters. Hama-si was the youngest.”
Poma-si said, “Her father was the head gardener, but now . . . Prince Jian-so has been kind to her. He kept her in the palace and did not leave her to the streets. He is generous, our prince.”
“Very,” Reyna agreed absently. She watched Hama-si fill the second plate and paid attention to what she put on it. Chicken but no boar’s head. Strawberries but no eggplant. No vegetables whatsoever from what she could see. Three puffs full of cream. The sort of meal that would have delighted Reyna as a child.
When Hama-si left the hall, Reyna and Blaise followed her.
* * *
They stayed well behind, not wanting to scare the girl but not wanting to lose her either. It was a good thing they wore their soft slippers. Boots would have given them away. Hama-si had not looked back once.
Around corners they went, past giant, roaming tortoises, through courtyards that grew smaller and less busy the farther they withdrew from the central confines of the palace. Here the air was not so sweet. Reyna raised an arm, pressed her nose into the crook of her elbow. Blaise wrinkled her own nose and whispered, “Blech. There must be a cesspit nearby. Or a bog.”
Reyna found she had to breathe through her mouth. “Why would she bring food here?”
Blaise had no answers. Hami-si turned a corner and disappeared. Reyna sped up, leaving her friend a few paces behind. She swung right . . . and stepped ankle deep into a cloying, congealing pool, its contents unspeakable.
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