Girls of Paper and Fire

by Natasha Ngan

  She slides the door shut behind her, but I keep staring at the place she had stood. The air is solid in my lungs, my throat filled with rocks. I run my tongue over my dry lips.

  The young maid beams at me like this is the best news anyone could receive. “Congratulations, Mistress!” she sings. “You must be so happy!”

  Her words pull a rough laugh from my throat. Me, a mistress. And to be congratulated for… this. Whatever this will turn out to be. And then I’m rounding my back on her, hiding my face with my hands to stifle the manic laughter that’s pouring out of me even as tears arrive to accompany them, hot and wet, leaking out of me just as uncontrollably. Everything that’s happened over the past few days seems to drain from my body as it finally hits me.

  I’m here. In the royal palace.

  And I will be staying here if I want to keep Baba and Tien safe.

  If I want to keep them alive.

  SIX

  A WOODEN TUB IS BROUGHT TO the room and filled with warm, fragranced water. While she bathes me, Lill quizzes me about my life before the palace, questions tumbling from her mouth so quickly I barely finish answering one when the next comes. Which province am I from? Do I have siblings? What’s it like to be Paper caste? Is my mother as beautiful as I am?

  I’m not used to being naked in front of someone else, but Lill acts like it’s nothing, as direct with her work as with her questions. She dunks a sponge into the water and scrubs it over me before dragging a comb through my knotted hair. Eventually, her chatter starts to put me at ease. She reminds me of Tien, albeit a younger and far less bossy version. And after my long journey to the palace, it’s impossible to deny the pleasure of warm water on my skin. The bathwater is soon muddy, while my skin has done the opposite, the grime and sweat-gray sheen that has accumulated over the past few days shed with each stroke of the sponge, until I am revealed anew, baby pale and as polished as a coin.

  Afterward, Lill dresses me in simple taupe-colored robes similar to Madam Himura’s hanfu, though the design and material is far plainer and the sash is slimmer. “You’ll only wear this type of hanfu on days you don’t have to leave the house,” she explains.

  “The design of Mistress Eira’s robes are beautiful,” I say as her deft fingers adjust the cerulean sash at my waist. “Am I right that their style is originally from Shomu?”

  Lill nods. “It’s the traditional dress of the White Wing Clan themselves.”

  “So why is it worn here in Han?”

  “Well, I don’t know if this is true exactly, but legend has it that the original Bull King fell in love with one of the clan lord’s daughters. He admired the clothing style she wore so much that he had it adopted here in Han, and Rain and Ang-Khen too.”

  Of course. Forced assimilation. Just another of the wonderful things to come from the Night War two hundred years ago.

  Lill’s doe ears quiver as she steps back to assess her work. “You’ll see, Mistress. Food, architecture, art, music… all the most beautiful things in Ikhara can be found in the palace. Like you!”

  I grimace at this, but she doesn’t seem to notice. “Speaking of that,” I say. “What are they like? The other girls?”

  “Oh, beautiful, too, of course. But they’re going to be so jealous when they see you. No Paper Girl has ever been blessed with eyes like yours.” She picks up my dirty clothes, adding, “Wait here, Mistress. I’ll just throw these away.”

  I nod, distracted. Blessed. The word rings even more hollow tonight. My eyes are the reason I’ve been ripped from my home. Just like the original Bull King spying something so beautiful that he claimed it for his own. They’re not a blessing—they’re a curse.

  And then I remember.

  “Wait!” I say, lurching after her. Lill blinks as I reach into my trouser pocket, drawing out the familiar egglike object inside.

  She smiles up at me. “Your Birth-blessing pendant!”

  Its gold casing gleams in the lantern-light. Ever since I was young I’ve kept it with me, worn it as a necklace, something comforting about its weight against my chest bone.

  “When does it open?” Lill asks, eager, as I loop it around my neck and tuck it under my robes.

  “In six months,” I mutter.

  Her eyes light up. “Maybe your fate is love, Mistress—with the King! What an honor that would be!”

  And her look is so hopeful I have to turn away.

  When Tien told me how many families see great honor in their daughters being chosen, I couldn’t understand it. Honor is in family, in hard work and care and love, in a small life well lived. Yes, sometimes I’ve wished for more. Grumbled at Tien’s bossing about, at the long, tiring days of shop life. Dreamed of starlit nights of adventures and a world outside the village and a love so bold it sets my heart alight. But always my future was framed in the safe arms of Xienzo. Of my family. Of my home.

  A few minutes later, Lill leads me through the muted house, sounds of daily life muffled behind the painted doors. Dark wood corridors shine with polish. The paneled walls are draped with batik silks and delicate paintings. Every inch of the house drips with elegance. Even the air seems rich somehow, clean and perfumed.

  We reach a set of sliding screen doors. Raised voices sound from within.

  “Nine girls?” a thin, reedy voice declares. “Nine? It makes no sense! It’s eight. It’s always been eight. That’s the tradition.”

  “Continue this way, Blue, and I shall gladly throw you out to return the group to its original number.”

  “I’d like to see you try, Madam Himura. You know the power my father holds in the court. I don’t think he’d take kindly to you casting me out.”

  “Who’s that?” I whisper to Lill.

  “Mistress Blue,” she replies. “Her father, Lord Ito, is very famous. He’s one of the only Paper caste members of the court.” As the voices die down, she asks, “Are you ready to go in, Mistress?”

  I take a slow inhale, then nod.

  Lill gives me an encouraging smile. Then, sliding the door open, she announces with a bow to the room beyond, “Presenting Mistress Lei-zhi!”

  The scents hit me first: incense from joss sticks and burners; the delicate fragrance of chrysanthemum tea. Maids in pastel-colored robes drift round, pouring the tea from porcelain pots with graceful curves of their wrists, and even they would be intimidating if they had walked into my parents’ shop. But compared with who they’re serving, their presence fades.

  The Paper Girls.

  Kneeling round a low table in the center of the room, they cut striking figures draped in vivid, lustrous fabrics, like a collection of living jewels. I take them in one by one. There is a girl with the bronzed, almost russet-brown skin common in the Southern provinces, draped in vibrant orange robes that remind me of the sarongs we have in the North, her raven hair twisted into a plait threaded with beads. At her sides are a stern-looking girl with a sharp, bobbed haircut at odds with her curvaceous figure, and a petite girl in an ice-blue dress. Opposite them sits a sweet-faced girl with rust-colored hair, dense clusters of freckles adorning her nose and cheeks. She gives me a nervous smile as our eyes meet. A pair of twins kneel next to her, pale-faced and straight-backed, like identical dolls, their lips drawn in a berry color to match their modern, high-collared dresses, so figure-hugging it pulls a blush to my cheeks.

  Then I notice a girl set apart from the group. Unlike the rest, she’s sitting almost casually, long legs folded to the side. Her draped skirt and blouse are tailored from a velvety ink-black fabric shimmering with intricate embroidery, like a star-dusted night. Wavy hair cascades to her waist. Even the maids have been openly staring since I came in, but this girl is still facing away, gazing over her shoulder with a bored expression. A slight pout puckers her darkly glossed lips. Just when I’m about to turn away, she looks round.

  Our eyes catch. At least, that’s what it feels like—a physical hold. She returns my gaze with a look so intense it roots me to the spot before her curved, ca
tlike eyes flick away.

  “This is her? This is the irresistible Nine?”

  A high voice cuts through the quiet. It’s the girl we heard outside, Blue. She’s tall, even standing next to Madam Himura, with narrow shoulders and glossy azure-black hair, straight and smooth. Her features match the sharpness in her voice, angled cheekbones like two blades and narrow eyes shadowed with paint glinting out from beneath blunt bangs. The front of her emerald dress dips daringly low, revealing a flat triangle of alabaster skin.

  “Well,” she says, wielding her voice like a scythe. “If she hadn’t been announced, I’d have mistaken her for the maid.”

  Her high laugh rings out—cutting off abruptly as Madam Himura slaps her.

  The room falls silent.

  Blue’s head is twisted to the side. She holds it stiffly, her shoulders jerking with shallow breaths, dark hair hiding her face.

  Despite her hunch, Madam Himura seems to double in size as she glares down her beak at Blue, her feathers ruffled. “I know who your father is, girl. After you were chosen, he came to me to ask that I don’t treat you any differently because of his status. So you’d better give me the respect I’m owed.” As Blue’s cheeks flush, the eagle-woman’s gaze sweeps over the room. “That goes for all of you. No matter your background, whether you have grown up with all or nothing, here you are all on the same level. And that level is beneath me.” She jabs her cane in my direction. “Now, welcome Lei-zhi in the proper manner.”

  The girls drop into bows, Blue a fraction slower than the rest.

  “I have already explained why she’s here,” Madam Himura continues. “I don’t expect to repeat myself. Mistress Eira will show you to your sleeping quarters and instruct the maids to attend you. Tomorrow you have your assessments. Be ready for when I come for you.”

  “Yes, Madam Himura,” the girls recite.

  I hurry to echo them. When I look round, I catch Blue watching me, her eyes shining darkly.

  Mistress Eira takes us to our private quarters on the northeast side of the house. She explains that the building we’re in, Paper House, is where we will live during our year as the King’s concubines. Her and Madam Himura’s rooms are also to be found here, along with the maids’ dormitory and a variety of parlors, kitchens, and entertaining rooms. Paper House is in the center of Women’s Court, flanked to the north and east by gardens and to the south and west by other buildings: suites for the women of the court, as well as bathhouses, tearooms, and shops.

  Our bedrooms run off a long corridor. Though immaculately kept, the rooms aren’t what I was expecting. They’re bare, furnished simply with a sleeping mat and a shrine stocked with joss sticks and a charcoal fire to burn them. Not exactly rooms to host a King. Then I shudder. Because where instead will that take place?

  “This isn’t very private,” Blue sniffs, trailing a manicured nail along the edge of a door, which is barely more than a few thin pressed sheets of rice paper. Light from the hallway shines right through them.

  “It isn’t meant to be,” replies Mistress Eira. “Your lives belong to the court now, girls. The sooner you understand that, the better.”

  Her voice is kind, but Blue scowls at her.

  As Mistress Eira answers a question from one of the other girls, the pretty freckled girl I noticed earlier slips in beside me, offering a hesitant smile. She looks young—too young really to be here—with a round face framed with short auburn hair and luminous opal-green irises. Their shade is the exact color of the fields outside our village, rich and vibrant after the monsoon rains, and I return her smile, fighting the stab of homesickness that shoots through me.

  “It’s to stop us from taking lovers, isn’t it?” the girl whispers, gesturing to the doors.

  “I guess so.”

  “Not that I’d know.” Her freckled cheeks grow pink. “I haven’t ever had one. A lover, I mean! Not a bedroom. Though even that I shared with my sisters. Have you—have you had one?” she adds, breathless.

  I lift my brows. “A bedroom?”

  “No!” she giggles. “A lover.”

  I shake my head, and her face relaxes.

  “I’m glad I’m not the only one. Mistress Eira told me I’m the youngest here. I just turned sixteen last week. I thought I’d be the only one without any, um, experience.” She leans in, earnest. “I mean, I know we’re not supposed to do anything before we’re married anyway, but some of my sisters have done… things. And not just kissing.” She lets out another nervous laugh, hiding her mouth behind her hands. “Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself! I’m Aoki.”

  “I’m—”

  “Lei. I know. The ninth girl.” Her eyes shift to the crown of azure-black hair at the front of the group as she adds under her breath, “Though maybe not for long. I don’t know how much longer she’ll last if she continues talking to Madam Himura that way.” Aoki flashes a quick grin. “Can’t say I’d be sad to see her go.”

  I laugh, stopping quickly when the other girls look around.

  Mistress Eira shows us to our rooms, instructing us to wait for our maids. My room is at the end of the corridor, opposite Aoki’s. I step inside slowly while she practically dances into hers.

  “I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep!” she calls from across the hall. “Isn’t this so exciting?”

  I make a noncommittal murmur.

  She takes a few steps forward, fingers twined together at her waist. “Do you maybe want to wait with me? We can leave the doors open so your maid knows where you are, and—”

  “I’m going to rest for a bit,” I cut in. “Sorry, I’m just so tired.”

  Disappointment flickers over her face. “Oh. All right.”

  The instant I shut my door, my smile drops. I stand awkwardly in the center of the room, loosening a long exhale. It looks just the way I feel—bare, stripped apart. For the first time since waiting for Madam Himura’s inspection, I am alone, and as I’m finally able to let go of the pretense, the forced smiles and chatter, everything else drains from me, too.

  I loop the room, running my fingers along the walls. Back in our shop-house, I knew all the knots in every wood panel. Each kink and nick and stain had a history, a memory attached to it. You could read my childhood in the fabric of the building. But here, it’s all blank.

  Or—not quite. I lift my fingertips back to the wall. Even recently, this room must have belonged to a previous Paper Girl. And others before. The Paper Girl tradition has been going on for hundreds of years. The walls might be clear of my own memories, but they are dense with layers upon layers of other girls’ memories, a whole story—a whole saga—of lives that came before.

  I rest my forehead to the wood. There’s something comforting in knowing other girls were here before me, and survived. What was she like, the previous girl to live here? What did she feel on her first night in this room? What dreams did she dream here?

  My stomach gives a kick.

  What dreams of hers were lost?

  At the sound of the door opening, I spring back from the wall. Lill rushes in. She’s grinning and breathless, her uniform rumpled. “Mistress Eira is making me your maid!” she exclaims. “We were one short, and I’ve been wanting to progress from a housemaid for the last year! I’ve just given my eighty thanks to the heavenly masters but I still can’t believe it!”

  Her smile is infectious. “Then I’d better bow to you,” I say, my lips twitching. I kneel, a bit awkwardly in my robes, flattening my palms on the floor. “How may I be of service, Mistress Lill?”

  She erupts into giggles. “Oh, please don’t! Madam Himura will have a heart attack if she sees!”

  I look up with a smirk. “All the more reason to do it.”

  As Lill gets me ready for bed, the fear and unease start to shift, the pressure on my ribs unknotting just a little. I didn’t imagine making friends here, but Lill and Aoki and Mistress Eira have given me hope that things might be different.

  On the way to the palace, I was prepar
ed for sadness. For tears. For having to do things I don’t want to, and many more I am terrified of. For pain. For homesickness. As the hours went by in the carriage and then during that seemingly endless boat journey, I prepared myself for all the things that I could possibly find within the palace walls.

  The one thing I didn’t prepare for was kindness.

  And yet somehow, kindness, these light exchanges with Aoki and Lill… it still feels wrong, like the worst kind of betrayal. My father and Tien must be heartbroken that I’m gone. And here I am, able to smile. To laugh, even.

  That night, lying under the unfamiliar coolness of silk sheets, I cup my Birth-blessing pendant to my chest. It’s the only thing I have with me from home. Squeezing my eyes shut against the sting of the tears, I picture Baba and Tien in the house, how they might be coping, and it breaks something deep within me. The word itself—home—is a blade in my gut.

  It’s a call, a song. One I can’t answer anymore.

  On nights when I couldn’t sleep back in Xienzo, I used to lie exactly the same way I’m lying now, hands over my heart, my pendant safely nestled in the curve of my palms. I would pass the time by imagining what word could be hidden inside, and there was something comforting in it. The idea of being looked after, almost. A promise of a future so beautiful I couldn’t even dream it yet.

  But on the occasional night, my mind would fill the darkness with words just as black. Because whatever I want to believe, it is possible that my pendant holds a future I will not be grateful to receive.

  And tonight that’s never felt more likely.

  SEVEN

  WHEN THE GONG SOUNDS THE NEXT morning, I’ve already been up for hours.

  It was the nightmare again. The kind you can’t banish with assurances that it’s all make-believe. That you can’t wake from and let the bright sureness of your life slowly melt the darkness away. This was the kind of nightmare whose monsters you can never outrun, that are still there when you open your eyes.

  The worst kind of nightmare, because its monsters are real.