I nodded.
“I was hoping you’d find the mirror.”
His smile was infectious even from a thousand miles away. I couldn’t help smiling back, until I remembered why I was here.
“I need your help,” I started. “Lady Sarnai was badly hurt by the dress of the stars—it attacked her, and now she will not wake. Is there something here that can help her?”
His brow wrinkled in thought. “Check the third drawer. In the cabinet with the hawk. The lock will open to your touch—”
“It’s open already,” I said, managing to sound both sheepish and brusque.
“A small glass bottle labeled AN EXTRACT USED FOR THE GRAVEST OF INJURIES. I used it to save the emperor during the Five Winters’ War. A few drops will ease her pain, but I can’t promise it’ll wake her.”
I stared at the array of bottles. “I can’t read any of them.”
“Use the mirror.”
I held it over the bottles until I found the one Edan had described. “Does this mirror always translate ancient texts?”
“Only for you.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to stay away from my chambers for long,” Edan said with a roguish grin, then his voice softened. “When Khanujin forbade me to see you, I spent the time preparing to leave you. Everything I have is yours now, Maia. My possessions will speak to you, the way your scissors do.”
A flood of warmth crept up in my chest, and I savored it, wishing the cold would never come back. “Thank you.”
Edan started to speak, but I interrupted. He was going to ask about the wedding, or how I was, and I wanted to avoid those questions. “Did you make it to Agoria? Khanujin is looking for you.”
Edan shook his head. “The master I sought never left. He’s at the Temple of Nandun.”
So Edan wasn’t in Agoria at all—but still in A’landi, high in the mountains somewhere, tucked away in a shrine to the beggar god.
I let out a sigh of relief and leaned toward the mirror. “Has he been able to help you?”
Edan’s dark brows knotted, and the color drained from his face.
“Maia,” he whispered hoarsely. “Maia, you said you were free of Bandur.”
“What?” I drew back. How did he know I wasn’t? My eyes weren’t burning, and he couldn’t have heard about what had happened to Lady Sarnai.
“You are wearing a demon’s amulet.”
I looked down and saw my pendant had slid out of its place inside my tunic.
“No, it’s just the walnuts you gave me.” I held it out, showing him. “This isn’t—”
His jaw tensed, his voice thick with dread, with fear. “Don’t go to Lapzur.”
“I have to,” I said. “I have to fight him before…” Before I lose too much of myself.
“You can’t win if you go alone,” said Edan. “Wait for me. I’ll go with you.”
The strain in his voice touched me, but I wasn’t going to change my mind. “I’m getting worse every day, Edan. Soon I won’t be able to resist.”
A grimace tore apart Edan’s careful composure. “Come here, then,” he urged. “My teacher, Master Tsring, can help you. He’s mortal now, but he knows more about magic than anyone, save the gods themselves. He’s dealt with Bandur before.”
“I don’t have much time,” I said in a small voice. “I don’t even know where you—”
“The Tura Mountains. They’re not far from Lapzur. Call for me when you see them, and I will find you.”
“With the mirror?”
“Yes,” replied Edan, “but be careful. The demon inside you will grow stronger every day, and whenever you use magic, you open yourself to its influence. Do not use its power. It will corrupt you, and you will turn faster.”
To that, I said nothing.
“Maia!” Edan had raised his voice, and I flinched. His eyes were so blue, not the blazing yellow they’d once turned when he was angry. “Swear it on my life, Maia, that you will not use the demon’s power. Swear you will not go to Lapzur without me.”
Sudden rage rose in me. It flared white and hot and so dazzlingly intense I could not control it.
How dare he! He does not control you, Sentur’na.
The whispers grew louder, deafening. Edan’s furniture vanished. Trees sprang from the carpets, their branches withered and gnarled. The Forgotten Isles of Lapzur. I shut my eyes, pushing out the hallucination. “No!”
The mirror slipped from my grasp, and I lunged for it, but whatever connection Edan and I had had was broken.
“Edan?” I whispered, clutching the mirror. Only my reflection stared back at me. “Edan, I’m sorry.”
But Edan was gone.
I crumpled onto the ground in despair. My pendant whirled around my neck. I grasped it and forced it to still.
Edan was wrong. It wasn’t a demon’s amulet. The dresses inside belonged to the mother goddess, Amana. There was nothing sinister about them.
Still, a pinprick of doubt stabbed me. Then why is there a crack in the center, like in Bandur’s amulet?
That, I couldn’t answer.
I tucked the pendant back inside my tunic. The dresses inside thrummed softly, a steady pulse against my heart’s. Unlike my scissors’ song, it did not stop when I let go.
I inhaled a deep, shaky breath. At least Edan was safe. That would have to do for now.
CHAPTER NINE
I didn’t hear the window open.
It was morning, and I was still in Edan’s chambers reading through the books at my feet when, from behind, someone shook me.
“They’re coming for you!”
Ammi pried the book from my hands. “Master Tamarin,” she pressed, “are you listening? You have to get out of here!”
“What?” I rasped. My tongue was so dry it clicked against the roof of my mouth. “Who?”
“The emperor!” Ammi pulled me to my feet. “Jun and Zaini won’t be able to hold their tongues for long. You must hurry!”
I grabbed my things, including the medicine I’d found in Edan’s cabinets. “What of Lady Sarnai?”
“She’s alive, but barely. They took her to the dungeon this morning. That’s what will happen to you if you don’t—”
The dungeon! “I have to help her.”
“Are you listening?” Ammi grabbed my arm. “Half of the palace guards are looking for you, and the other half are watching Lady Sarnai. You can’t—”
I twisted out of her grip and grabbed Edan’s pouch, slipping the vial, his flute, and his mirror inside. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”
Ammi wrinkled her nose. “I’m not letting you go alone. I doubt you even know where the dungeon is.”
I didn’t.
My expression must have been easy to read, for she let out a sigh. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
I slipped the pouch’s straps over my head. “Why are you helping me? I thought you were upset with me.”
“I am,” she replied, “but that doesn’t mean I want you killed. You’re too good a tailor for that, Master Tamarin.”
I might have smiled if the morning hadn’t taken such a dire turn. Still, the iciness creeping into my heart thawed just enough for me to smile at my friend. “Call me Maia.”
A tight smile graced Ammi’s lips in return. “Hurry up, Maia. The last thing I want is to be caught with you.” She started climbing out the window. “This way. We’ll cut through the gardens. By the gods, I hope the guards are having lunch.”
* * *
• • •
They weren’t. And unfortunately, Ammi was right about the dungeon teeming with security. I would have no chance of getting inside to see Lady Sarnai. Not without help.
Bamboo fences surrounded the prison
, a box-shaped structure constructed of large, mismatched stones. No windows, and no doors but for the entrance. It seemed more like a crypt than a dungeon.
Then again, most prisoners weren’t meant to live long inside.
After ducking behind a bush, I mentally marked the guard with the keys dangling from his hip, and reached for my pendant. My thumb edged along the side of the walnut that carried the dress of the sun.
Here goes.
“Wrap your sash around your eyes,” I whispered to Ammi. “Shut them as tight as you can. Don’t open them—no matter what you hear. Not until the light is gone. Then run back to the kitchens.”
Before she could ask any questions, I darted out of my hiding place and counted to three— “Now!”
I reached for my pendant and released the power of the dress of the sun, aiming it at the guards. The light blinded them. One by one, they staggered, dropping their weapons and trying to shield their eyes before crumpling against the fence.
There was no time to waste. I knocked past them and crouched beside the guard with the keys, snipping off his belt with my scissors.
Only when I was well inside the dungeon did I shut the laughter of the sun back into my pendant, but I kept a hand on it in case I encountered more guards.
I scrambled down the stairs, scanning the prison for Lady Sarnai. Most of the cells were empty. A few held servants caught for stealing, or soldiers who drank too much. I didn’t spare them a glance. According to Ammi, the more important prisoners would be on the lower level.
When I reached the floor below, Lady Sarnai’s labored breathing gave her away. I hurried toward the sound, the iron keys slippery with sweat in my palm, and opened the door.
Shock flew through me, and I gasped.
Overnight, Lady Sarnai’s condition had worsened. Her ivory skin was now a pale, unnatural gray-blue. Even more worrisome were the black and violet splotches flaring under her robes; they blazed over her chest, coming dangerously close to her heart.
Jun and Zaini had been right—she wouldn’t be long for this world, not if the blood of stars continued to consume her.
Someone groaned in the cell across from hers. Lord Xina. The space for him was too small, and he was curled against a corner, a rivulet of blood dripping from his temple to the ground. “Get away from her,” he croaked. Chains rattled as Lord Xina feebly struggled to rise. “Get!”
I had to hurry before the guards heard him. Collecting myself, I stepped closer to Lady Sarnai and reached into my pouch for Edan’s extract.
Using my teeth, I uncorked the bottle, then poured half its contents down her throat, covering her mouth with my hand so it wouldn’t dribble out. A grunt escaped her lips when I touched her, and I winced; I couldn’t imagine the pain she must be in.
At last she swallowed, and gradually, her breathing evened. I waited expectantly, praying that the blood of stars would cease to spread across her body. That she might at least stir and wake.
But Edan’s medicine hadn’t worked.
I panicked. What now?
Desperately I tried to pull her to her feet, but I couldn’t budge her. Either I gave up now and made my escape or I risked the guards catching me.
Think, Maia. Think.
Out of habit, I started to reach for my scissors before my fingers twitched with revelation. My pendant still throbbed against my chest, and when I touched it, a soft tingle of comforting warmth rushed through my fingertips.
A silvery thread, so thin at first I was sure I had imagined it, spun out of the pendant through my fingers and shimmered over Lady Sarnai’s face. Like tears.
Could the tears of the moon help her?
In legend, the goddess of the moon had been a healer, the counterpart to her fiery husband, the sun. It was worth a try.
I unwound the dress of the moon from my pendant. Even in the dungeon’s thin air, it rose like a kite on a breeze before settling gently over Lady Sarnai’s body.
I knelt beside her, watching the argent satin ripple over her arms and legs. Slowly, ever so slowly, a soft white glow spread over her body, soothing the blood of stars’ vicious flares until the marks, dark and glittering, receded from her heart. Then Sarnai’s eyelids fluttered, and her ashen blue complexion began to change color and bloom with the faint promise of life.
As the moonlight woke her, I eyed the shackles chaining her to the wall and hesitantly took out my scissors. Would they work on metal?
Their silver blades shone brightly against the chains, and as I held them to the iron links, they began to hum. They were telling me to try.
Slipping my fingers into the bows, I parted the blades and cut at the shackles. Each snip took far more strength than cutting through fabric—so much that I needed to use both hands to clamp the scissor blades down on the links.
With a brittle clatter, a wrist shackle fell to the ground.
“Thank the Nine Heavens,” I whispered. Working more quickly now, I moved to Lady Sarnai’s other wrist, then to her ankles—until she was free.
Footsteps thumped above. The guards were also waking.
I shook Sarnai until she moved, breathing hard. She jolted up in a delirious panic, tossing aside the dress of the moon and lashing at the vial still at my side. She thought I’d come to poison her.
“Shhh.” I tried to calm her. “I’m here to—”
Sarnai snatched my scissors and pressed their blades against my neck. The metal sang violently into my ears.
She meant to slit my throat with them, but her wrist wobbled, her face twisting with bewilderment as she saw what had happened to her. Faded were the fiery blue splotches on her skin, the marks of the dress of the stars. But in their place were silver-white scars, like brushstrokes across her face and body. The tears of the moon.
As the blades quivered in her grasp, I pried them gently from her.
“Why?” she whispered.
It took me a moment to realize she was asking why I had risked my life to help her. I had asked myself that too. I didn’t like her. No doubt she felt the same about me.
I returned the scissors to my belt. My tongue felt leaden, and my mouth became dry. I didn’t know what to tell her.
Before he left, Edan had called me the hope of A’landi. But he’d been wrong. I couldn’t be the hope of A’landi, not when I was turning into a demon. But Lady Sarnai, daughter of the shansen and bride of the emperor, could unite the North and South. She was a princess and a warrior in her own right.
“Because you are the hope of A’landi,” I replied softly.
She licked her lips, still cracked and parched. “Khanujin will punish you for this.”
“I’m not afraid.”
Lady Sarnai raised an eyebrow as if she didn’t believe me. But she said no more.
“We have to go now,” I urged her. “The guards are wakening.”
“How many?”
Ever practical was the shansen’s daughter.
“At least three in the dungeon. Four at the entrance. More outside.”
Sarnai barely flinched at the numbers. Her strength was returning.
Without a word of thanks, she rose and slipped out of the cell. Moments later, I heard a guard exclaim, “You—”
Bones cracked, and swords clanged against the iron doors and stone walls. Bodies fell.
I winced, regretting I hadn’t asked her to leave the men alive.
Once the threat of the guards had been eliminated, Lady Sarnai returned. I was one step ahead of her; I’d already opened the door to Lord Xina’s cell.
She draped Lord Xina’s arm over her shoulders and raised him up. His body was a bloody lattice of cuts and bruises, pus oozing out of his wounds, but once he saw her, his charcoal eyes flickered to life, and he coughed.
Lady Sarnai’s frown eased, the only sign of relief she gave. “Ca
n you walk, Xina?”
He looked haggard, his wide face longer than I remembered. But he gritted his teeth, got onto his feet, and gave a curt nod.
Blood dribbled from his mouth, which was swollen and had many teeth missing. He was too hurt to speak, but it was clear my presence displeased him—whereas he seemed not the least bit fazed about Sarnai’s changed appearance. As fleeting as it was, for that moment, he’d won my respect.
“Quickly then,” said Sarnai tersely. “We must make it to the river before dusk.”
“The river?” I echoed. The Leyang River was south of the Autumn Palace. “Shouldn’t you bear north, toward your father?”
“My father?” Lady Sarnai spun to face me.
“Aren’t you going to fight him—and his demon?”
She stared at me, her dark eyes narrowing, making me feel very naïve and very stupid. “What do you think I could do against them? Oh yes, you think I’m the hope of A’landi.”
A dry laugh escaped her. “I’ve done nothing but bleed for this country. Its peace and salvation mean nothing to me. Not anymore.”
“But—”
“My father won’t stop until he secures the throne,” she snapped. “He and his demon will tear this country apart if that’s what must be done. I’m leaving before that happens.” She raised a sword she’d plucked from one of the defeated guards. “If you’ve any wits, you’ll go too.”
For the first time I noticed that, unlike most ladies’, her nails were cut short and square, her knuckles rough, calluses running along her fingers worse than even mine. An archer’s hands.
A survivor’s hands.
“There is no hope for A’landi,” she said. “Consider that advice my repayment to you, tailor. And may we never meet again.”
With that, she and Lord Xina slipped away, leaving my heart heavy.
If Lady Sarnai would not save A’landi, then war between the emperor and the shansen was inevitable. Thousands would die, brave young soldiers like my brothers Finlei and Sendo, and countless other innocent lives would be lost. The rift in my country I’d sacrificed so much to mend would never heal.
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