Girls of Paper and Fire

by Natasha Ngan

  At a wave from the bear guard, a smaller set of doors beside the main gate draw open. The horses pull us through into a long tunnel. Its ceiling curves low, forming a cocoon of darkness. The chanting of the royal shamans echoes all around, a heavy hum in the air, the unsettling noise vibrating right down to my bones. Then everything goes silent.

  There’s a flash, like lightning.

  A fiery shiver explodes across my skin.

  I bite back a cry. The heat is just on the edge of bearable. I spin around but can’t see anything that might be causing it. “What’s—what’s happening?” I stammer, rubbing my hands over my goose-pricked arms.

  “We’re passing through the shamans’ protection,” General Yu answers. “If we are not who we say we are, this dao will reveal us to the guards inside. Only the most powerful shaman could weave magic to evade an enchantment like this. I would tell you that you get used to it, but it’s not as if you’ll ever be leaving.” The corners of his lips curve into sharp points. “Welcome to the palace, Paper Girl.”

  FIVE

  AS WE CLEAR THE TUNNEL, the sensation lifts, along with the uneasy silence.

  My first impression of the world within the palace grounds is a smell, so sweet it makes my mouth water: night-blooming jasmine. The flowers burst in a fiery-green tangle along the walls. The familiarity of the scent shocks me, and I take in my first look at the palace, gripping the edge of the bench as I lean forward to stare out, half holding my breath.

  We’re in an enormous square. Braziers illuminate the vast space, shadows deep at its edges, empty except for a guards’ pavilion and a row of stables. A couple of guards hurry over as our carriage comes to a stop. The General seems to know them well, and greets them warmly—or at least what constitutes as warmth coming from him—before we continue on.

  Now that we’re actually here, a strange sense of calm starts to take over me, like a blanket laid gently over something smoldering. I angle myself at the window, trying to get a better view, but the horses pick up the pace. Everything flies by in a blur. I catch only quick glimpses of my new home. Rain-slicked cobbles. The dark rush of gardens at night. Elegant temples with furled roofs, their ornate architectural styles unfamiliar to me. We pass through small courtyards and wide, open spaces; linked squares with bridges arching over water; grand, imposing structures crafted from marble. It stuns me how vast the palace is. Not just a palace really, but a city—a labyrinth of streets, courtyards, and gardens, like the veins and arteries flowing through a giant creature with the King nestled at its core, its own living, beating heart.

  I wonder if that heart is as black as I’ve been told.

  After twenty minutes, the horses slow. “This is it,” General Yu announces as they draw to a halt. He leans forward to tug aside the curtain at the front of the carriage. “Women’s Court.”

  Massaging the numbness in my legs, I get to my feet and step out into rain and lantern-lit darkness. We’re in what looks to be some kind of residential area. Tall walls enclose a web of streets comprised of interlocking houses and covered walkways set on raised platforms. The buildings are ornate, with dark walls of what looks like mahogany and rosewood, glossy under the downpour. Sliding bamboo screens—so delicate compared to the thick doors we have in Xienzo—reveal the backlit silhouettes of figures inside. Porches ring every house, lined with vases of white-petaled orchids and peonies.

  My feet slip in the muddy earth as the General leads me down one of the unlit paths at the base of the buildings. He keeps one hand on my shoulder to stop me from bolting. Though even if I knew where to run to, I’m not sure I could. My body seems bound to some unseen current as we move through the unfamiliar space, everything cast in a dreamlike ruby haze from the red lanterns dangling from the curved eaves of buildings, like ripe fruit. Rain-dampened sounds drift out from open windows and doorways above—female voices raised in laughter, plucked zither music, lilting and beautiful.

  We stop beside a servants’ entrance built into the side of a grand-looking house. The General pulls a rope, sounding a bell.

  A few seconds later the door flies open. Light spills into the alley. A young girl of ten or eleven blinks out at us. She has a gentle, moonlike face and round doe eyes, her hair pulled messily back into a lopsided bun. Loose strands unwind around her long, fluted ears. They are the only part of her that suggests she’s not Paper; she’s a deer-form—Steel, but barely. Lantern light glides across her smooth human skin, a mirror of mine, and an immediate sense of kinship rushes through me. After days in the sole company of demons, I want to hug her, press her soft, bare cheek to mine.

  “Oh!” she cries, dropping to the floor in a low bow. “General Yu!”

  He barely looks at her. “Fetch Mistress Eira,” he commands.

  The girl bounces to her feet at once, scuttling back inside the house. Her bun of hair bobs like a doe’s stubbed tail, as though trying to help her appear more demon than she is.

  I peer after her. Past the doorway, a flight of stairs leads up to a lantern-lit corridor. Voices float down from the rooms beyond, and the air is warm, tea-scented. There’s something so welcoming about the house that for a second it’s easy to imagine myself walking inside to find Tien and Baba and Bao. The pain is so sharp then that I have to dig my fingernails into my palms just to feel something else.

  This is not my home.

  Nowhere else ever will be.

  We’ve only been waiting a few minutes before the young girl reappears at the top of the steps, this time with a tall woman at her side.

  “Thank you, Lill,” the woman says, and the girl scurries off.

  The Paper woman turns to us. There’s a pause as her eyes settle on me, and then she begins to make her way down the staircase. She moves impossibly lightly, a grace even to how she holds the hem of her plum-colored silk robes—the most exquisite I have seen in my life. They drape round her slim form effortlessly, pattered with silver embroidery and held together at her waist by a wide band of fabric. It’s this that jolts my memory to Tien showing me drawings one of our customers once gifted her. The illustrations reflected the styles of women’s clothing favored by the central provinces. If I’m remembering correctly, these types of robes are a specific style of hanfu originally worn by the aristocracy of northeastern Shomu.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she bows. “General Yu.” She stays just beyond the doorway, under the shelter of the house. Her jet-black eyes shine with intelligence, and a serene smile touches her lips. Instincts tell me that this woman was once a Paper Girl herself. Though she looks in her early forties, the bronzed skin stretched over her high cheekbones is as smooth and poreless as a young girl’s.

  The General inclines his head. “Mistress Eira. I apologize for coming to Women’s Court and disturbing you without forewarning. But this matter couldn’t wait.” He pushes me forward. “May I present Lei-zhi.”

  The woman’s gaze flicks to me at his use of this suffix. She turns back to the General, a hint of something hard-edged in her smile. “How strange that you give her the Paper Girl title,” she says, still smiling calmly. “The girls arrived a couple of hours ago—I was just entertaining them myself. Last time I checked, all eight were present.”

  “I’m aware this is unusual,” the General says quickly. “But I hope you’ll agree it’s for a worthy cause. When I found the girl, and saw how striking her beauty was, I dropped everything to bring her to the palace.”

  “I assure you, General, our girls are more than striking enough for the King.” Folding her palms at her waist, Mistress Eira gives a short bow. “Now, I really must return—”

  A bit too roughly, the General seizes my cheeks. He wrests my face up so that light from the stairwell catches my eyes.

  Gold upon gold.

  She was already half turning away, but in an instant Mistress Eira freezes. Her lips part, and then she presses them firmly closed. Her eyes don’t leave mine as she steps in close. Delicate perfume lifts from her skin; rosewater and t
he sweetly spiced scent of neroli. I blink the water from my eyelashes, trying to keep my gaze steady as she regards me properly for the first time.

  “Heavens’ blessings, those eyes…” Mistress Eira glances at General Yu. “She really is pure Paper?”

  “I assure you, Mistress, her blood is human.”

  “Her parents?”

  “Herb-shop owners from western Xienzo.”

  “So she has no experience with the court?”

  “Unfortunately, not. But she can learn fast. The girl is used to hard work. And look at how striking she is even now, dressed so plainly. Imagine the transformation once you and Madam Himura have worked on her. Once she has been educated in the ways of women.” The General’s tone turns silky. “And I’m sure you don’t need me to remind you of our King’s superstitious nature. Imagine how appreciative he might be to receive a girl who is as much a symbol of the heavens’ good fortune as one of beauty. It could be the much-needed boost of confidence he needs. Given everything we’ve been facing lately…” He trails off, and the two of them share a pointed look.

  The idea of the Demon King lacking confidence is so opposite to how I’ve been imagining him. I want to ask more about what things exactly the court has been facing lately, but Mistress Eira’s focus pins me in place.

  “It’s as if Ahla herself smiled down from the heavens as you were born,” she muses. It’s something I’ve heard before; many people believe the Moon Goddess had a hand in coloring my eyes. Mistress Eira gives me a gentle smile. “Lei,” she asks, “are you sure you are ready for the life of a Paper Girl?”

  Behind her, the General’s eyes fix on me. I remember his words in the carriage earlier. Their blood will be here. Do you understand me? On your hands.

  Tien’s face, my father’s come to my mind. The way they looked when the General thrust me into the carriage. The way they would look if I gave him reason to act out his threat. Tears prick my eyes. I force out this gruesome image and instead picture them smiling, working, laughing, living.

  There is only one answer I can give if I want that for them. So I offer it, even though it breaks my heart, pushing the word from my tongue like a stone.

  “Yes.”

  I knew it even earlier, at the dock in Noei and on the boat to Han, and maybe even before then, from the minute General Yu’s eyes met mine in the shop. It was pointless to hope for a different outcome. And, even though it’s the slimmest of chances, at least being here in the palace means I might find out what happened to my mother.

  Still. The word leaves a bitter flavor in my mouth. It tastes like failure.

  Like betrayal.

  I swallow it down as Mistress Eira smiles, draping an arm across my back.

  “Thank you, General,” she tells him. “You were right to bring Lei here. I’ll introduce her to Madam Himura right away. Hopefully her reaction will be as positive as mine. We’ll be sure to make it known to the King that Lei comes as your personal gift.” Bowing one last time, she ushers me into the house.

  Before she shuts the door, I look back at the General. His smirk is wider than I’ve seen it, his eyes bright with triumph.

  Mistress Eira leads me to a small, windowless room and asks me to wait, leaving me standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor. Water drips from my soaked clothes onto the polished teak boards. I smooth my hands over my matted hair, trying—and failing—to slow my heart. Even after the long journey here, it doesn’t feel real. I’m in the royal palace.

  In one of its buildings, the King is waiting.

  I don’t know when I’ll be introduced to him—the horror hits me that it could be tonight—and the palace is so vast he’s not likely to be close by. Still, there’s something intimate about it, to be inside the palace walls. Perhaps even in a building he’s been in once before.

  My spine tingles. Hugging my arms, I glance over my shoulder with a ridiculous notion that he could even be standing behind me.

  The next time steps sound in the corridor, hard clicks accompany the light footfall of Mistress Eira. A strange, hunched shadow appears behind the sliding door. It’s not quite human, too bulky in the shoulders and neck. Instinctively, I back away, readying myself, but I can’t help the curl of fear as the door opens and the woman I assume to be Madam Himura enters the room.

  Only she isn’t just a woman—she is a demon.

  An eagle demon.

  Eagle-forms are one of the rarest kinds of demon. Like a lot of bird forms, many lost their lives fighting in the Night War, and they’ve been mostly recruited since as soldiers for the King’s army. I’ve never seen a bird-form up close before, apart from the quick glimpse of the swan-girl on the road out of the Black Port. The first thing I notice are her eyes: two hooded crescents of yellow. Their piercing gaze cuts straight through me. Pearl-white feathers flow down to a hooked beak that pulls her humanoid jaw out of place, so her face is at once familiar but extremely… not. Graphite robes set off the inky plumage that sheathes her body.

  “So,” she says, glaring at me. “This is what all the fuss is about.”

  Her voice is hoarse, a croak that seems to come from the back of her throat. She steps closer, revealing the glint of scaled claws from beneath her robes. A taloned hand at the end of one arm—human limbs melded with eagle feathers—clutches the handle of a bone walking stick, but despite the hunched-over way she moves, there’s still power there, brimming energy.

  “Your age, girl?” she snaps brusquely, making me jump.

  I wet my lips. “S-seventeen.”

  “When were you born?”

  “The first day of the New Year.”

  “An auspicious sign,” she muses. “And the moon would have been golden then.… Perhaps that is what lent you those eyes.”

  “Well,” I say, my cheeks hot, “it wasn’t a demon.”

  Madam Himura bristles at this. The sleek feathers coating her arms ruffle, seeming to blur her arms into wings as they fan out before settling back against her skin. “Anyone with half a brain can tell your skin is Paper, stupid girl. You even stand like a servant. A demon wouldn’t hold themselves in such a way. Besides, the official inspection tomorrow will reveal if you are not who you say you are. You won’t be able to hide anything from them, no matter how many enchantments you might have used. Turn!” she commands abruptly.

  I do as she says, feeling her stare roam over me.

  “Mistress Eira tells me you have no experience whatsoever with the court. No connections that you are aware of.”

  I shake my head.

  In a flash, she jerks forward, clasping my chin in her talons. “You do not answer with crude movements, girl!” Sour breath hits my face. “If I ask you a question, you respond with ‘Yes, Madam Himura’ or ‘No, Madam Himura.’ Is that clear?”

  I swallow. “Yes, Madam Himura.”

  “Do you even possess any skills aside from being insolent to your superiors?”

  Glowering, I mutter, “I’m good with herbs, and cleaning—”

  “Herbs?” She lets out a racking laugh. “Cleaning? We are women of the court. Those are jobs for servants and maids. As a Paper Girl, it’s your nu skills—your female skills—you’re to cultivate. Are you telling me you have no such talents?” She clacks her beak. “How worthless.”

  I grind my teeth to hold back a retort. Those are the skills my parents and Tien taught me. Skills that are surely more worthwhile than knowing how to entertain a King.

  Madam Himura cocks her head, appraising me coolly. She makes a strange, almost purring sound at the back of her throat. “Ah. I see. You think you’re better than this. Well, just wait until your lessons start. You’ll see how hard such skills are to master.” Her eyes narrow. “Despite what you think, I see the hunger in you. The desire to prove yourself. Your qi fire is strong—perhaps too strong. We’ll have to keep careful watch, or it might end up burning all you touch.” With barely a pause, she snaps, “Are you pure?”

  “Pure?”

  “Sex. Y
our nu core. Have you allowed a man to enter you?”

  My face flushes. Considering what I’m here for, her frank language shouldn’t be a surprise. But Tien has only ever broached the subject with me in a half joking manner, and my father certainly never mentioned it. I’d been working in the shop full time since Mama was taken, so I wasn’t able to keep up with girls my own age. If things had been different, maybe I’d have already spent a few years giggling with friends about love and lust. Instead, those thoughts were secret ones. Feverish dreams in the middle of velvety nights.

  I drop my eyes from the eagle-woman’s fierce gaze. “No,” I reply truthfully.

  I sense her watching me, perhaps searching for a lie. A glimmer of hope rises in my belly—because maybe if she doesn’t believe me, she’ll order General Yu to take me back. But I shove the idea away, remembering his threat.

  Finally, Madam Himura turns to Mistress Eira. “Fetch Lill,” she orders. “Have her bring soap and clean clothes. A plain hanfu set will suffice.”

  We wait in silence. I want to ask what’s going on, but from the eagle-woman’s stance I can tell she expects me to stay quiet. Mistress Eira returns a minute later with the same doe-form maid who opened the door to the General and me. The girl gives me a grin—which disappears as soon as Madam Himura rounds on her.

  “Clean and dress Lei,” she commands with a jab of her cane, “then bring her to join the rest of the girls.” Without a backward glance, she moves toward the door, taloned feet clicking.

  “Wait!” I shout. It’s out before I can help it. Madam Himura swirls round, and I recoil at the cutting glare she gives me. “I mean, Madam Himura… does this mean I’m one of the Paper Girls now?”

  The eagle-woman scowls. “You’d better not be so dense in your classes,” she snaps before leaving the room.

  But Mistress Eira offers me a smile. “Yes, Lei-zhi. It does.”