The Redwood Palace

by M K Hutchins

  “Thank you.” I meant those words in so many ways. I reluctantly stepped away from Osem, into the next room, and put on the dress.

  The smooth cloth tumbled to my elbows. How surreal to have fabric there. I tied my black skirt on and adjusted the more-voluminous drape of the dress. Tonight, I could write my parents and tell them I’d not only been acquitted, but honored.

  When I stepped back into the main room, General Yuin had joined us. He sat by his wife, eyes crinkled in amusement. “I take it that your hearing went well, Plum?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  With her husband in the room, Lady Sulat’s countenance softened. She even smiled a fraction.

  The general turned to his wife, laying one of his calloused hands on the back of his infant’s sling. “I’ve sent a squad to fetch Azalea. In a few days, we’ll all be together again.”

  I didn’t want to invade their familial conversation, so I excused myself, then rejoined Osem on the other side of the room. “No dishes to scrub today?”

  “Ah. I got lonely down there, working by myself.” She smiled teasingly. “Y’know, now that I don’t have a ghost to keep me company.”

  She sounded like herself; I couldn’t help but smile in turn.

  “Sorrel kindly gave me today off. The apprentices don’t approve; they’re taking turns scrubbing right now.”

  So Sorrel had survived. I had no desire to speak to him again, but I was grateful there wasn’t more news of bloodshed and cruelty. There’d been far too much of that already.

  Moss strode up, arms crossed. “So. I guess I’m not going to get to use these bolas on you.”

  “Nope.” I shook my head, watching Lady Sulat and General Yuin fuss over their child. “How did she do it, Moss? How did she know about me?”

  He smirked. “Plum, the first rule of navigating the palace is knowing what everyone’s birthgift is.”

  “She’s perceptive of eye,” I said, frowning. That let her see my face—not my soul.

  Moss tugged one of his ears. “You never learned what I am, though.”

  I paused. No, I hadn’t. “You’re perceptive-of-ear?”

  “I heard your prayers. Lady Sulat has known your real name—and why you came to the palace—for some time. The prayers might have been a lie to make yourself look innocent, but time proved otherwise.”

  The door guards let Bane into the sitting room. The morning sun shone like amber in his hair, and a broad smile lit the rest of his face. Now everyone I cared about in the palace had gathered into this one happy, bright spot.

  “You’re free,” Bane said, in one great exhale.

  “Yes.”

  General Yuin smiled at him. Bane looked like he might faint from the attention. “Did you doubt she would be?”

  “Ah, no sir.” Bane bowed, then stood straight like a soldier, then fidgeted, as if unsure how to act around the famous general.

  Yuin dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Go see her.”

  Bane crossed the room. His whole body seemed to lean against that two-foot gap of air between us that propriety demanded. I leaned against it, too.

  “I’m glad you’re safe. Plum.”

  I loved hearing my name, my real name. I loved not hiding who I was. Though maybe I’d never really hidden from Bane. He’d always seen me.

  His posture, his smile—it was all an invitation. I was a free person of the Green Rank now, with no trial hanging over me. I could accept, or I could walk away.

  Already I could smell his skin—woodsy, like juniper and smoke. His hair hung low over those mesmerizing brown eyes. I remembered his warmth on my back as we rode the Hungry Ghost together. Bane was solid. Dependable. Charming. Brave.

  I slipped my hand into Bane’s, intertwining my fingers with his. I didn’t know yet, if he was my man. But now I had a chance to find out—as Bane and Plum, without any lies between us.

  Bane held my hand like he never wanted to let go. I didn’t want to let go, either.

  “Do you want to play springball?” I asked. “Me and you against Osem and Moss. Proper pairs.”

  He smiled, as brilliant as a summer sunrise. Warmth curled through me—this was exactly where I wanted to be.

  “I’d love to,” he said.

  Osem and Moss grinned at the two of us—like they both thought Bane and I would make very entertaining company right now.

  I turned to Lady Sulat. “Unless you need us for something else?”

  “Go. All of you. Enjoy yourselves,” our Lady said. “You deserve it.”

  Mid-morning the next day, Lady Sulat requested I travel with her back to the safehouse. She didn’t explain until we stood at the bottom of the ladder in the main room.

  “I’ve transferred an injured soldier here,” she said

  “One of your officers?”

  “No. A new recruit. But this soldier, I’ve learned, saved my husband’s life during the battle in the woods between here and Napil. One of the Shoreed tried to shoot him from behind. This soldier tackled Yuin out of the way, taking an arrow in the ribs.”

  “Admirable.”

  “Indeed,” she said. “Until now, the soldier had been too unstable to transport, and rested at Napil. I want you to personally watch over and cook food for the recovery.”

  Chef—Lady Sulat’s chef. Quiet pride simmered in my chest. I wasn’t just cooking—I was cooking for someone who deserved my loyalty.

  Lady Sulat gestured toward one of the rough wooden doors. I entered first, Lady Sulat following. Her guards remained behind.

  Bandages covered the patient from collarbone to the midriff, outlining a feminine shape. But I only needed one glance at her ashen face to know this was no man.

  Her eyelids sluggishly opened under those wisps of poorly-cropped hair. My throat tightened like I’d swallowed a disk of hotradish. She was alive.

  “Hey, sis,” the real Dami croaked, her voice little more than a scratch. She tried to smile. “Fancy finding you here.”

  I dropped by the bedside and took her hand. I squeezed it and discreetly checked her pulse at the same time. Dami was weak, but in no danger of dying. Silently, I thanked our Ancestors. I swallowed hard. “You too.”

  But the weight of her hand tempered my joy. Dami lived. But her secret was dead.

  I looked up to Lady Sulat. “What’s... what’s to happen with her?”

  “She broke the law.” Lady Sulat said, her face that unnerving calm.

  “So did I. She saved your husband’s life,” I pleaded.

  Lady Sulat nodded. She’d already thought this through. “Given the king’s displeasure with you,” she flicked me a meaningful glance, “if Dami’s behavior becomes public knowledge, he’ll ensure the full measure of the law is followed. And he’ll use that trial to defame you as well.”

  Dami snorted. I stared at her—didn’t she know who stood next to us?—but that was just like Dami. Reassuringly so.

  Lady Sulat kept speaking as if she hadn’t heard. “I can’t keep you safe from King Alder indefinitely if you remain in the Redwood Palace, Plum. But if your sister recovers well and if she’s willing to be of service... I believe I have a task for both of you.”

  I exhaled. Away from the palace? But I didn’t need to think about that yet. Dami was here, alive, delivered into the hands of my allies as neatly as if the Ancestors themselves had arranged it. And I had work to do. Pickled celery. Dami needed that first, to dull the pain and help her ribs heal. Then sweet marrow soup to improve her circulation and pallor.

  I hadn’t expected both of us to survive. “Thank you.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was speaking to Lady Sulat or our Ancestors, but I thought they’d both understand.

  Lady Sulat raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you should wait to hand out thanks until after you hear what I have in mind.

  Thank you Matt Brown, John Hutchins, Ailsa Lillywhite, Kindal and Emily Debenham, Aneeka Richins, Kate Heartfield, Carolyn Duede, Michelle Cowart, Brinton Berg, and Michelle Walker for y
our insightful comments. This book would not be the same without you.

  I’ve been delighted to meet such great people through Immortal Works. Thank you, Beth Buck, Holli Anderson, Benjamin Kocher, and Clare Dugmore for your expertise. It was lovely to have my manuscript in your capable hands.

  I’m grateful to all the supportive friends and family in my life—including uncles. Many of my family members have also been excellent historians, preserving old photographs and stories. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to connect with the remarkable people who went before me.

  M.K. Hutchins regularly draws on her background in archaeology when writing fiction. Her YA fantasy novel Drift was both a Junior Library Guild Selection and a VOYA Top Shelf Honoree. Her short fiction appears in Podcastle, Strange Horizons, Fireside, and elsewhere. A long-time Idahoan, she now lives in Utah with her husband and four children. Find her at www.mkhutchins.com.