Today, she was a princess. Rubies and emeralds sparkled from her wrists and ears, and strings of pearls tinkled from her headdress, a phoenix crown inlaid with gold dragons, jeweled flowers, and blue kingfisher feathers. It seemed the emperor—or Lady Sarnai’s maids—had won the battle over her wardrobe.
“Good morning, tailors,” she said, in a voice that was soft but not gentle. “You are gathered here to show me what A’landi’s finest tailors have to offer. I warn you, I am not easily impressed. I did not grow up wearing silk. I’ve never appreciated a garment for its beauty or elegance. However, I expect the new imperial tailor to prove me wrong.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” we tailors said, our heads bowed. “Thank you for this chance, Your Highness.”
Arriving behind Lady Sarnai, a tall young man slipped between Norbu’s and Yindi’s tables to circle our stations. The other tailors had brought their finest samples with them to display: brocade purses with golden tassels, collars embroidered with peonies and chrysanthemums, sashes embroidered with scenes from the Seven Classics—of women dancing and playing the zither. My station was embarrassingly bare. I’d been in such a rush to leave home, I hadn’t even thought to bring some of my work to show the future empress.
Whoever the tall man was, he didn’t stop at my table. Instead, he returned to Lady Sarnai’s side as she proceeded to judge the first tailor.
“It was not my idea to have a shawl-making contest,” I heard her say to him. “What a waste of a challenge.”
“Emperor Khanujin noticed you had no summer clothing. He is only concerned with your welfare.”
“So he says.” She sniffed. “You Southerners and your traditions. All this fuss simply to pick a tailor.”
The tall man smiled amicably. “His Majesty gave me the impression that this trial was your idea, Your Highness.”
His tone was polite, but the audacity of his words now made me wonder who he was. Lady Sarnai hadn’t bothered introducing him, so he couldn’t be that important. Yet he wore all black, which indicated he was of high rank. The gold epaulets, fine boots, and black mantle slung over one shoulder suggested he was a soldier from beyond the West Far Dunes. But most soldiers didn’t dress so fashionably—or richly.
Maybe he was a eunuch. If so, he had to be an important one. Or perhaps he was an ambassador. His features were slightly foreign; he had black hair like A’landans but it was curly, not straight, and despite his tanned, olive skin, his eyes were light—they snagged the glint of the sun.
That was how he caught me staring at him. Quickly, I looked back down at my feet, but not before I saw a smile form on his lips. He disappeared from my view, his movements lazy yet graceful, more like a cat than a nobleman.
I decided I didn’t like him.
When I looked up next, Lady Sarnai had finished judging Master Delun’s work. Lorsa followed behind her, obsequiously complimenting her on her taste. I kept my head bent and my back bowed—even though it was starting to ache. The other tailors did the same until Lady Sarnai visited their tables. One by one, our fates were determined.
“I wouldn’t let my maid use that to clean my chamber pot,” she said cruelly of another master’s shawl. Her eyes, painted with lapis powder and darkened with charcoal, narrowed into a flinty stare. “Is this the best you could do?”
Then she told Nampo—the tailor who’d offered a bet against me: “There are only four colors in this design. Do you think me a peasant?”
“There are,” Nampo said, stumbling over his words, “but that is the style, Your Highness. It is like calligraphy—”
“If I’d wanted calligraphy, I’d have asked for poets, not tailors.” Lady Sarnai held a cup of tea in her palm, and she sipped it, keeping her lips thin with displeasure. “Master Nampo, you are dismissed.”
By the time Lady Sarnai came to my table, my heart was palpitating.
I hadn’t been so close when I saw her last night. We were about the same height and build; we might have passed for sisters were I not pretending to be a boy, and were she not the Jewel of the North, the shansen’s only daughter.
“Keton Tamarin,” I introduced myself, bowing even lower.
“Tamarin,” she repeated. “I haven’t heard of you.”
We could not have been more than two years apart in age, yet it felt like twenty. I kept my head bowed. “I’m from Port Kamalan.”
“I didn’t ask.”
I clamped my mouth shut, staying quiet as Lady Sarnai touched a corner of my shawl and raised it closer to study it. She took a moment longer to consider it than she had with the other tailors. Or at least, that was how it felt.
I tried not to stare at her as I waited, but from a stolen glimpse, I could see there was too much powder on her face, particularly around her eyes, which were bloodshot and puffy.
Had she spent last night crying?
I wouldn’t be happy either if my father had sold me off to be married. But to wed Emperor Khanujin…could that be so horrible?
You’re letting your imagination run wild, Maia, I scolded myself. What do you know of Lady Sarnai?
“The design is extraordinary,” Lady Sarnai said at last. “Your skill is to be commended, Master Tamarin. I have never seen work so fine….”
I held my breath, waiting for her to announce my victory in front of all the tailors who’d spoken ill of me. I was just as good as they were. No, better.
Baba would be so proud.
Lady Sarnai twisted her lips. “But I simply despise yellow.”
I blinked, certain I had misheard her.
“That is all,” Lady Sarnai said before moving on. Minister Lorsa sniffed at me, a sign that I was sure to be dismissed.
My throat closed up, and my hands trembled. No, no, no. I can’t go home. I can’t let Baba down. Our shop won’t survive another winter unless I win, or unless I marry Calu.
I was so distraught I hadn’t noticed the tall man coming over to my station. A deep, quiet grunt escaped his mouth, and I looked up.
He was younger than I’d thought, and better-looking. He might even have been handsome, if not for something sly and mischievous about his expression. His nose looked like it had been broken once; the bridge was slightly crooked, which somehow highlighted the cunning of his eyes. They danced with the light, never steady enough for me to catch their color.
He gestured at my shawl with long, thin fingers. “You made this?”
His attention took me aback. “Y-yes, sir.”
A dark eyebrow flitted up. “In a single day?”
I stiffened. Something about the tall man—and his questioning—made me forget my place. What did it matter, anyway, if I was about to be dismissed?
“The imperial seals are within the design,” I said brashly. “If you’d like to check.”
His cryptic smile returned. “No, no. I believe you.”
With his hands behind his back, the tall man walked on.
I wrenched my attention away from him and looked to Lady Sarnai, standing in the front of the hall, her fan flipped open.
“I shall wear Master Yindi’s shawl to dinner tonight with His Majesty,” she announced.
I swallowed, trying to hide my disappointment.
Lorsa handed Yindi a red silk pouch. “As the winner, Master Yindi will receive a prize of five hundred jens to use toward the next challenge.”
Five hundred jens? I couldn’t even imagine such a sum!
Lorsa continued: “The others who will remain are Master Boyen, Master Garad, Master Longhai, Master Taraha, Master Norbu, and…” He paused, a bushy eyebrow rising.
I clenched my hands into fists, squeezing so hard my nails bit into my palms. Holy Amana, please…
“Keton Tamarin.”
I let out a huge breath. Thank you. Thank you.
Lady Sarnai dangled another red
silk pouch. “Master Tamarin is the second winner today. His shawl impressed me the most. A feat not easily accomplished.”
Stunned, I almost dropped my cane in my hurry to stumble toward Lady Sarnai. The glares from the other tailors and the tall man’s smug smile couldn’t ruin this moment for me.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” I said breathlessly. “Thank you.”
She dropped the pouch into my hand and waved me away.
“I will not be so generous again,” Lady Sarnai said. “There will only be one winner for each new challenge, until only one of you remains.” She gestured at Yindi and me. “But now you all know which two tailors are the ones to defeat.”
With that, she turned on her heel and left, the tall, thin man following her a few steps behind.
“Your next task will be given tomorrow morning,” Minister Lorsa said. “It will not be as easy as this one, so I suggest that you do not inebriate yourselves too much tonight.” His gaze turned to me. “Or fool yourselves into thinking you are safe from dismissal.”
My smile faded then, along with the happiness from my victory.
I hadn’t won because of my skill at tailoring. I’d won because I’d used magic scissors.
If not for the scissors, I would have been sent home—because someone had ruined my shawl, because I couldn’t have finished in time, because I hadn’t known Lady Sarnai hated yellow. Only by magic had I been able to repair my shawl and make it extraordinary enough to impress Lady Sarnai.
Magic was real. Very real. And the revelation that I’d somehow used it sent me reeling with a staggering sense of wonder—and fear.
CHAPTER SIX
After the dismissed tailors were gone, I sat on my stool, hugging my arms to my chest.
Behind my wooden screen, my mask of confidence fell apart. Those magical scissors had turned my ruined shawl into one of the most extraordinary garments I had ever made.
I opened my satchel, folded my shawl, and stuffed it on top of Baba’s scissors. They looked so ordinary, their blades so dull they didn’t even glint in the light. I stared at them, bewildered by how tempted I was to use them again—to see what else they could do.
I closed my satchel and kicked it beneath my table.
Only two days ago, I hadn’t believed in magic. I had never seen magic. Now here I was, itching to use those enchanted scissors again.
With them, I would certainly win the trial.
Shouldn’t I be happy? I’d won five hundred jens and proven myself to the other tailors.
No. I’ve proven nothing. I swallowed. Now that I’d won, the tailors would be watching me closely. If someone found out I was using magical scissors, they’d tell Minister Lorsa. Then I’d be investigated…and exposed as a girl.
I won’t use them again, I decided. Not unless I absolutely must.
“Congratulations,” Longhai said, peeking over my screen. “What’s the matter? You don’t look too happy that you won.”
“I am,” I said, mustering a smile. I cleared my throat, and my fingers nervously drummed against my thigh until I clasped my hands together. “I am,” I repeated, “but I was almost sent home. I had no idea Lady Sarnai hated yellow.”
“Anyone else would simply be happy to have won,” Longhai said, chuckling at my distress. “But I understand.” He lowered his voice. “Yindi’s been bribing the maids for information. That’s how he knew.”
It became painfully clear that knowing Lady Sarnai’s preferences was vital to winning the trial. “I have no money for bribery.”
Longhai laughed. “You have five hundred jens now! Besides, you don’t need it, not when you can embroider like that.”
His praise sent a sharp pang of guilt to my conscience.
“But be mindful of what you say,” he went on. “The five sent home today were those speaking ill of Lady Sarnai last night. I doubt it’s a coincidence.”
“I appreciate the warning.”
So, Lady Sarnai had eyes and ears in the hall.
My stomach rumbled, and after Longhai returned to his station, I reached for the porridge sitting on my desk. It was cold by now and had attracted a following of flies, but I ate it anyway.
One of the kitchen maids passed through the hall to pick up our bowls and teacups. She was slightly plump around the waist, with a youthful face and friendly eyes as round as the two loops her black braids made behind her head.
She stacked my teacup atop a tower of cups on her tray. “We placed bets on everyone. I bet on you.”
“Me?” I looked up from my sketchbook. “Why?”
“Because you’re young, and…and…you looked like you’d be talented.” She blushed, and my brows furrowed with confusion. Before I could ask what she meant, she added, “I wasn’t wrong. Your shawl was magnificent.”
“Thank you,” I said, more bitterly than I intended. “I doubt I’ll be so lucky next time.”
“Lady Sarnai’s tastes change like the wind,” the maid said, “or so her servants say.” She leaned close to me, whispering, “But I still think you’ll win.”
I blinked, warmed by her earnestness. It had been a long time since I’d had a friend my own age. “That’s very kind of you.”
“My name’s Ammi. I sew a little myself, but my embroidery has always been clumsy.” She touched my shoulder bashfully. “I’d love to show you sometime—maybe you can help me improve.”
“Um.” Her closeness made me nervous. As tactfully as I could, I inched away from her. “I’d love to, but I’m going to be busy with the trial.”
She smiled. “If you get hungry, come visit the kitchens. The Lord Enchanter himself comes sometimes. He’s always poking about for herbs and spices. Usually the expensive ones.”
I tilted my head, curious. “To make potions?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “To mask the smell of incense. His quarters are near the palace’s main temple. He says it reeks of ash and smoke.”
I raised a brow. “How interesting. Well, I have no desire to meet the Lord Enchanter.”
“You’ve met him already,” Ammi said. “He accompanies Lady Sarnai everywhere.”
I froze. The tall, thin man was the Lord Enchanter? He’d looked so young. It was hard to imagine he was a hundred years old—maybe even older, according to rumors.
“He’d tell the most unbelievable stories and flirt with all the maids. But since Lady Sarnai’s arrived, he hasn’t come into the kitchen as often.”
I frowned. “Does he really work magic?”
“Yes,” she said. “He can make a grain of rice turn into a pot of porridge, and a bone become a roasted chicken.” Her dark eyes shone. “Or even make a sapling grow into a tree.”
“You’ve seen this?”
“No, but I’ve heard. The Lord Enchanter was away for years during the war, and he doesn’t make a show of his magic as much anymore.”
“Why not?”
She lowered her voice. “The shansen’s daughter thinks magic is of the demons.”
I felt a stab of fear. Now I certainly couldn’t use my scissors: I couldn’t risk being discovered and offending Lady Sarnai.
“What do you think of magic?” Ammi said, leaning close to me again. She really was taking her time stacking my dishes.
Something clicked in my mind, and I recognized the strange way Ammi was acting. She was flirting with me!
My hand went to my collar, which felt suddenly tight. “I…I t-try not to think m-much of it.”
“You’re turning quite red, Master Tamarin,” Ammi said with a giggle. Finally she lifted her tray and turned to go. “If you need anything, be sure to look for me in the kitchens.”
After Ammi left, Longhai and Norbu appeared at my station. “Seems you’ve attracted an admirer. She’s a forward one. Well, I suppose they have to be.”
“What do you mean?”
Longhai shook his flask and made a face. It was empty. “Life in the kitchen isn’t easy,” he replied with a sigh. “Being the wife of a tailor would be a far better life than working in the kitchens.”
“You’re young,” added Norbu. “You should enjoy yourself.”
I looked at him bleakly. “I’m here to sew, not find a…a wife.”
“Then make friends,” Longhai encouraged. “You won’t find many master tailors your age. You should meet more of the palace staff. The servants are younger, and I’m sure the guards would enjoy hearing your war stories.”
I gritted my teeth. I didn’t have any war stories. “Thank you for the advice, Master Longhai, but I prefer my own company right now.”
“A pity,” Longhai said. “We have the rest of the afternoon off, and Norbu’s invited us all for lunch in Niyan.”
“It’s my treat,” Norbu said enticingly. He was in a jolly mood. I supposed I should be too, since I’d won the challenge. And honestly, the thought of a hot, steaming bowl of noodles made my stomach rumble yet again.
I reached for my cane. “All right.”
“Wonderful!” Norbu cried. “Afterward, we’ll head to the bathhouse. Keton, I need to know the secret behind your marvelous embroidery.”
I choked back a cry. “Actually…,” I began. My chest pounded, reminding me why I couldn’t go with five men to the public bath. “Actually, I really shouldn’t go into Niyan today. I…my leg isn’t feeling so well. And…and all those…those stairs.”
“Are you sure?” Norbu asked. “You should celebrate your victory. The healing waters will be good for you. You can rest those tired fingers and toes.”
“I’m sure,” I said firmly. “Have a good time.”
Norbu slapped me hard on the back. “All right then, young Tamarin. We’ll miss you.”
I forced a smile and waved. “Enjoy yourselves.”
My hammering pulse slowed as I watched them leave. Now I had a full day to consider how to stay in the trial without using my scissors, and to learn more about Lady Sarnai.
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