Girls of Paper and Fire

by Natasha Ngan

  That night, I write home.

  For months I’ve kept my letters positive, cracking jokes as if it were just another day in the herb shop. But tonight I can’t do it. Outside, the wind howls, making the building creak and groan. There’s the growl of thunder in the distance. Winters are even harder in Xienzo, and I picture my father and Tien in the garden, wrapped in furs as they brush frost off our dying plants with frozen fingers, their breath curling before them.

  It’s not right. I should be there. I should be with them, my own fingers chilled, my own exhalations making clouds in the air.

  It takes me a while to come up with a way to express myself in the letter without giving too much away, but I get it right on the third attempt. I have no idea if my father and Tien will even read this. I’ve still not heard a thing back despite writing regularly all this time, and if I’m honest with myself, I know why. It’s not hard to notice how Mistress Eira evades my questions whenever I ask her about the letters.

  Still. Something keeps me writing.

  Maybe it’s the feeling of connecting with my father and Tien, even just in my imagination. Or the knowledge that this is my last link with home, and if I stop writing it’s like acknowledging that I’ve given up hope of ever returning.

  Tonight, my letter is short.

  Dear Baba,

  Do you remember that day we went to the stream where you found Bao and we stayed until sunset, our toes dipped in the water, the air so still and quiet, and there was just that one lonely bird singing?

  Well, today’s been just about as good as that day.

  Missing you more than ever.

  All my love,

  Lei

  Tears cloud my eyes as I roll the letter closed. That day was the first anniversary of the raid on our village that stole Mama away.

  It was one of the worst days of my life.

  I’m just about to lie down when I sense movement in the hallway—and somehow, I know it’s Wren, leaving Paper House.

  Anger hurtles down my veins, so sudden and strong it surprises even me. I jump to my feet. How dare she. How dare she, of all the days, when she knows exactly what could happen to her if she’s found out.

  What that would do to me.

  I wait as long as I can bear before following her. Wind lashes my skin as I charge across the dark gardens. The air is frozen. Before I left, I threw a heavy brocade coat over my nightdress, but my feet are bare, the frosted ground numbing my toes. My hair whips around my raw cheeks.

  It takes me longer than I anticipated to reach the pine forest where I’ve seen Wren disappear to before. I trudge through it, keeping to a straight line in the hopes that it’s the right direction. After a few minutes I start to worry that I won’t be able to find her, but as I pick my way over mossy roots and brambles of thorns, sounds rise from up ahead. Half hidden under the noise of the wind, I make out grunts, panting, the crush of leaves. Something dark and awful flares to life in my belly. It—it couldn’t be.

  Could it?

  A few seconds later I emerge into a clearing. The long trunks of pines close in tight, a leafy canopy overhead. And in its center: Wren and the wolf. Not doing what I feared, but something else, something worse.

  Fighting.

  My heart bounces to my throat. I’m about to dash forward to tackle him off her, when I notice how none of their blows are followed through, just quick contact to indicate they’ve landed. Their movements seem practiced and familiar, dancelike almost. Wren’s hair flies around her as she ducks a sweeping kick. She retaliates with a jab of her hands, the wolf’s powerful haunches propelling him back. They’re training.

  Just then, Wren makes a leaping turn—and spots me.

  Her eyes are the same icy white as that night under the theater. It takes a second for them to drain back to their usual fawn-brown. She lands messily but is upright at once, brushing down her clothes. “Lei,” she says, breathless, starting forward.

  The wolf looks around. His ears prick when he sees me, and with a whip of his gray-white tail he flies around, but Wren grabs him.

  “Wait!” she shouts. “It’s all right, Kenzo—”

  “She shouldn’t be here!” he growls.

  “She won’t tell—”

  “How do you know?”

  “I just know!”

  “How is that—”

  “Because I love her!”

  Wren’s shout is almost swallowed by the wind, but her words reach me as clearly as if she’d bent to whisper them in my ears. Everything seems to still—the growl of the incoming storm, the sway of the trees in the wind. Our eyes catch across the clearing. Wren’s look, vividly fierce and beautifully soft at the same time, wrenches something inside me. I feel her heartbeat as if we were pressed together, chest to chest, cheek to cheek; I know its beat as surely as my own.

  She expels a shaky breath, her face softening, “And,” she says quietly, turning to Kenzo, “I think she loves me, too. So yes, I trust her. We can trust her.”

  Kenzo is still glaring at me. Wren tugs on his arm, half human, half furred, muscled wolf. His lips uncurl, hiding his fanged canines. But his ears are still pointed, the tendons in his neck corded.

  “So that’s how it is,” he says, breath furling from his long, muzzlelike jaw.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, she still shouldn’t be out here.”

  Wren nods. “Give us a minute?”

  With a last terse look my way, the wolf turns on his heels and bounds into the forest.

  Wren crosses the clearing. In an instant, my anger fades. Tears are wetting my face before she’s even reached me, and she frowns, thumbing them away.

  “Lei?” she says, her gaze moving over my face. “What’s wrong? Is it what happened to Mariko?”

  I curl into her arms. “Everything,” I say thickly.

  She holds me close, waiting until my breaths finally calm. Then she draws back, palms cupping my face.

  “What you said,” I mutter, my cheeks warm under the heat of her palms and the sweet softness of her look. “Just then. To Kenzo. Did you—do you—”

  “I do,” she whispers.

  My breath catches. “Me… me, too.”

  Her lips part, a sigh escaping them. Gently, she presses her mouth to mine. Then she steps back. “I’m sorry, Lei, but you have to get back to the house. It’s not safe for you to be here.”

  I scrub my tears away with the back of my hands. “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her. “Not before you tell me what’s going on.” As she starts to protest, I shake my head and wind my fingers through hers, pulling her closer. “You’re risking everything. Your life, and mine. Because if anything happens to you, I don’t know how I’ll cope. You’re all I have, Wren. I need you.”

  “You have me, Lei.”

  “So tell me. No more lies.”

  Our gazes are fixed together. And for a moment this is all my world is: the feel of Wren’s presence, closer than a heartbeat, and the brilliant, deep brown of her soft-centered eyes.

  I squeeze her fingers. “It’s time.”

  She regards me in silence. Then, finally, she nods.

  “Everything I’ve told you so far is true,” she begins, gripping my hands. “I promise. But I’ve never told you why. Why Ketai rescued me and brought me up as a Hanno. Why I’m here in the palace.” She wets her lips. “Because when my father went to the mountains of Rain following the rumors of the Xia’s massacre, he wasn’t just searching for survivors. He knew there’d be survivors. Or rather, that there’d be one.” She loosens a long breath. “Me.

  “The night of the massacre, the Hannos’ most trusted fortune-teller had a vision of a baby nestled in the snow. My father set out to find it with the intention of training it to continue the Xia bloodline. Not only would one of the Xia be skilled enough to assassinate the King, but, just as important, only this sole remaining Xia—who’d had their entire clan murdered before them—would have the hunger to do so.”

  Assassi
nate.

  The word hangs in the air, sharp as a sword edge.

  “The fortune-teller hadn’t known the sex of the baby,” Wren continues. “My father had been expecting a boy, but when he found me, he realized it was better this way. There are countless male assassins. The problem is getting them close enough to the King in the first place. A young girl dressed up in robes and elegant manners might be able to gain access where others could not.”

  “But what about Kenzo?” I interrupt. “Couldn’t he…?”

  She shakes her head. “My father and his allies have spent years getting him to the position he’s in now. We need him there. Assassinating the King is one thing, but if the court remains loyal to him, what good would it do? Kenzo is our highest-ranking infiltrator. He’s integral to seeing this change through. Once the King is dead, he can help steer the court to where we need it. It won’t work if he’s under any suspicion.”

  “So it’s all down to you.”

  Wren nods, lips taut. “That’s how I knew about the trap door in the theater. How I get around at night without being caught. I’ve studied the palace since I was young, learned every corner of it. And as a Paper Girl, I’m able to get close to the King without any guards around.” Her eyes are fire. “I’m going to do it, Lei. I’m going to kill him.”

  Thunder rolls overhead, the wind still ice-cold and lashing. But the world seems far away, a space of stillness opening up around Wren and me, filled with my fear and her words and our love and the meaning, the incredible consequence, of what she’s telling me.

  “You’ve been alone with him so many times,” I say, the words sticking in my throat. “Couldn’t you have done it by now? The first time he called you?”

  She shakes her head stiffly. “Other things have to align first. The timing is crucial. Trust me, Lei, if there were any way I could’ve avoided sleeping with the King, I would have found it.” She pauses. “My father would have found it.”

  “So you don’t know when it will happen?”

  “Not yet. But it won’t be long. Kenzo says things are almost ready.”

  As if he’d heard his name, there’s the sound of leaves crunching underfoot. The wolf slinks back into the clearing. He keeps his distance but watches us, tail flicking, bronze eyes glinting in the moonlit clearing.

  Wren circles her hands around my wrists. “You have to go, Lei. We’ve still got some training to do.”

  Training. Understanding rolls over me again. I’d had suspicions that this was what she was up to, but it’s different knowing it. I get a flash of Wren in the tunnel under the theater, with her white eyes—but this time it is the King she is approaching, the King’s heart she is driving a knife into.

  For the first time, I question whether he truly deserves it.

  It’s only a passing thought. Because an instant later I remind myself of the Paper caste slaves at the koyo party. The way he coldly ordered the assassins’ executions. Mariko’s screams, just this morning, a few short hours ago. The King’s hot mouth on my skin, how easily he tore my clothes apart; the pain and hunger of the week that followed.

  I recall my promise at the executions. More than anything, I want to be free. Not just free of the palace, but free once I’m outside of it, too. How can that happen in a world where its King allows demons to do whatever they want to those they deem inferior? How can I live in happiness when I know now what happens to Paper castes all across Ikhara?

  Can you imagine a world where we’re free to be with each other?

  Actually, I can.

  Then take me there, Wren. Please.

  I will.

  So this is what she meant.

  “Lei,” Wren says again, after a glance over her shoulder at Kenzo. “You have to go. Now.”

  But I don’t move. “Let me stay.” The words are out of me before I’ve even realized they were there. “I want to help.”

  She pulls back. “What?”

  “You’re going to assassinate the King, and I can help.”

  Wren flinches, a deep furrow lining her forehead. “I don’t mind risking my own life,” she says sharply, “but I will not risk yours.” She tugs on my arm. “Come on. I’ll take you back to the house.”

  “But—”

  She closes her eyes. “Please, Lei,” she begs, and there’s so much tiredness in her voice that I can’t bring myself to argue anymore. At least, not right now.

  We trudge back to Paper House in silence. Wren plants a kiss to my crown when we reach the entrance. “I meant what I said,” she murmurs. “I love you. And you are helping me already, whatever you think. Just by loving me back. It makes me strong. It gives me more to fight for.”

  I bite back a reply, not trusting myself to speak as she hugs me tightly against her before she turns and jogs back to the forest with long, loping steps.

  When I’m back in my room, I lie on my sleeping mat, trembling despite the furs wrapped around me. I stare up at the ceiling until the shadows seep from the room and the weak light of a winter morning settles in its place. Since that night at the theater, I’d somehow known about Wren, known that her fighting skills and Xia heritage were not just coincidence. But now it’s finally become real.

  Sometime soon she will try to kill the King.

  And it’s a fight she might not win.

  I want to jump up, run back to the moonlit clearing, beg Wren to reconsider. Even if the King must die, there must be some way it can happen without her life being in danger, too. The icy focus in her eyes as she approached the assassin in the tunnel under the theater returns to me. How the grip of Xia magic overtook her, giving her more strength than a human girl should have. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe years of training and her warrior heritage can protect her.

  But this is the King.

  The King, with his bull-driven power and lean, ironlike muscles. His deep, booming voice. I remember the savagery in his eyes that night at the koyo party, and before that, when he threw me down onto his bed and I felt more like a fragile human than ever before.

  I shiver, cradling my knees to my chest. Because beneath her Xia heritage, and no matter how incredible she is to me, that’s all Wren is in the end—a human girl. And we have all been taught what happens to Paper that tries to defy demons.

  It gets torn apart.

  TWENTY-NINE

  THE NEXT MORNING, AOKI COMES TO my door just as I’m leaving to go to hers.

  We say it at the same time. “I’m sorry.”

  I throw my arms around her, and she half laughs, half sobs, lacing her arms round my waist. “I thought it would be harder than that,” she sighs against my chest.

  “No,” I reply, squeezing her tighter. “It should have been easier. I’m so sorry. Some of the things I said that night…”

  She clears her throat. “Some of the things I said.” We pull apart, and she gives me a wobbly smile, though her face is serious. “Just promise me, promise you’ll be careful, Lei. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. After Mariko yesterday…”

  The echo of her screams seems to reverberate down the corridor.

  “I know,” I say. “It’s terrible. And it made me realize just how stupid our argument was. It could have been me in her place, and if that was the last conversation we had—”

  Aoki’s freckled nose wrinkles as she says firmly, “It will not be you.” Her fingers loop around my wrist. “You still haven’t promised that you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise,” I lie.

  Aoki nods, seemingly satisfied. Then she hesitates. “Lei?” she says gently. “You do know you’ll be called tonight, right?”

  Her words lift the hairs on my arms. Of course I knew it had to happen. The only reason I wasn’t summoned last night was because the King was too busy dealing with the fallout of Mariko’s affair. But all the other girls have been called already, so it was only a matter of time.

  It’s clear to me now that he purposefully left me until last to torture me.

  I rememb
er Wren’s declaration last night, her heartbeat tripping against mine. I love you… It makes me strong. It gives me more to fight for.

  “I’m sorry,” Aoki murmurs. “I wish there was something I could do.”

  “I’m just glad to have you back.” I force a smile, and say in the lightest tone I can manage, “Anyway, we’ve got loads to catch up on. In your absence, Blue’s become my best friend and we’ve started a Madam Himura fan club. We’re calling ourselves the Beakies.”

  Aoki giggles. “How do I sign up?”

  But as soon as we loop our arms together to head to the bathing courtyard, our smiles disappear. We walk on in silence, Aoki’s words about the King calling me tonight slinking round my neck like an invisible noose slowly tightening.

  Just as Aoki predicted, the royal messenger delivers my name at lunch later that day.

  I take the bamboo chip from Madam Himura with trembling fingers, not hearing a word she’s saying. It’s all I can do not to look across the table at Wren. She’s watching me—her gaze is like a call, a song I always want to answer. But I keep my eyes down as Madam Himura orders the girls out. It’s taking everything in me just to sit here feigning calm and not throw the chip squarely at Madam Himura’s smug face. I can’t handle seeing Wren’s expression as well.

  The girls file out. Wren’s footsteps slow as they pass.

  “You too, Wren-zhi,” the eagle-woman snaps.

  I stare down, waiting for Wren to leave. A few moments later, there’s the sound of the door sliding.

  “So,” Madam Himura says once we’re alone.

  I look up, gold eyes meeting yellow.

  “You know what’ll happen if you fail me again.”

  I grit my teeth. “Yes, Madam Himura.”

  She stamps her cane and gives me a dismissive wave with a feathered arm. “Rika! Take Lei for her ye lesson.”

  The journey to the Night Houses passes in a blur. When we get to Zelle’s room, I’m a little nervous to see her after what happened last time, but she greets me warmly, with no trace of anger or suspicion.

  “I didn’t get a chance to thank you,” I say, kneeling opposite her on the bamboo-mat floor. “For not telling Mistress Azami what I was doing in her office.”