And Lady Sarnai had asked me to betray him.
“You’re quiet,” Edan noted. “Does what I say bother you?”
“No, it’s not that.” I shifted my stance. The pebble in my shoe hurt more than ever.
“Then something else?” His roguish smile returned, a shade more somber than usual, but I could tell he was trying to lighten the mood. “Shall I coax the truth out of you? Perhaps a serum would help—”
I couldn’t take it anymore. “Lady Sarnai asked me to spy on you,” I blurted.
A beat. Then, curse him, he burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” I put my hands on my hips. “You don’t believe me?”
“When did she ask this of you?” Edan said between laughs.
Already I was regretting my decision to tell him. “This morning.”
“Then she’s even more of a fool than I suspected.”
“Why is that? She has good reason to distrust you.”
“She does,” he agreed. “But you? You’d be the worst spy in the world, Maia Tamarin, given your complete inability to tell a lie.” Still bemused, he said, “Why’d you decide to tell me? Dare I believe you’ve finally softened toward me?”
I flashed him my most irritated scowl. Edan had a way of making my temper flare. “My loyalty is to the emperor. You are his loyal servant. That’s why I told you.”
“And here I thought it was because of our growing friendship, and my affection for you.”
I muttered, “I liked you better when I thought you were a eunuch.”
Edan looked half offended, half amused. “You thought I was a eunuch?”
“A tall one,” I said, turning up my nose. “And one who dressed far above his station.”
“I’m far too good-looking to be a eunuch,” Edan protested.
“I would disagree. Some are quite handsome, and you…” I searched for the right insult. “Emperor Khanujin’s better-looking than you.”
The quirk that tugged at his lips was completely unreadable to me. I couldn’t tell whether I’d stung him—or amused him.
“Is it true that the shansen called upon demons to murder the emperor’s father?”
The quirk in Edan’s lips vanished. “Who told you that?”
“Lady Sarnai. She said her father had to pay a steep price for dealing with demons.”
“It’s true the shansen has dealt with demons,” said Edan carefully. “Whether he called upon them to kill Khanujin’s family is a different story. But it’s strange that you should hear it from Lady Sarnai.”
“I think she despises her father for using magic. And you, for being an enchanter.”
“She despises everyone,” Edan said, more cheerfully.
I frowned at how casually he took my news. “She told me demons are fallen enchanters.”
“Are you worried about me now, Maia?” Edan laughed. “There’s nothing to fear. I’m in no danger of becoming a demon, I can assure you. And I’m far more powerful than any demon the shansen could recruit.”
For once, I took heart in his arrogance. I wanted to believe him, so I did.
“Be careful, Maia,” he said quietly. The sudden change in his tone startled me. “Lady Sarnai will know you’ve betrayed her trust. I’d care if something happened to you.”
I didn’t like how tongue-tied I suddenly became. I raised a brow and echoed, “You’d care?”
Edan drew back. “Yes,” he said, airily now. “Girl or not, you’re a very talented tailor. And you have some aptitude for magic. Enough that I feel somewhat responsible for you.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know, she reminds me of you.”
Edan frowned, as if I’d mortally insulted him. “What do you mean by that?”
“Both of you enjoy mocking others. She uses this trial as a way of insulting Emperor Khanujin, and you—you enjoy—”
“I do not mock the emperor,” said Edan. “Ever.”
You mock me, I thought.
“If Lady Sarnai and I have anything in common, it’s that we have little say in our futures. She uses her frustration to undermine the betrothal, and I use my boredom to study.”
“Study what?”
His sharp eyes focused on me. “People who interest me.”
“You don’t seem like someone who would be interested in a sewing contest.”
“I wasn’t,” he said, “until I saw those scissors of yours.”
I already knew what he was going to say. “I won’t use them, Edan—”
“It isn’t cheating.”
“Lady Sarnai hates magic.”
“Given the choice between two tailors using magic, she should choose the one who uses it better. Your scissors reflect your skill; Norbu’s paint doesn’t. And you’re not here for the same reason as the others. Longhai, Norbu, Yindi—they’ve sought the position for glory. You—you want to restore honor to your family’s name. And I suppose you want to prove to yourself that you can be as good as any man.”
I did. Though I lacked the courage to say it aloud.
“But thank you for warning me about Lady Sarnai,” Edan said. “I appreciate it.”
His sincerity took me slightly aback. “Don’t presume that I did it because we’re friends.”
“Enchanters don’t have friends,” Edan said, clearing his throat. I got the sense he’d revealed something he hadn’t wanted to. “Good night, Mistress Tamarin.”
“Master,” I called after him. He was going to be the doom of me one day. I just knew it.
* * *
• • •
The door to my room should not have been ajar. I was always careful to close it, especially since I was not privileged enough to have a lock. I pushed my way inside, heart pounding. Something was wrong.
The few possessions I’d brought with me were flung carelessly over my bed—my sketches, the letter I’d received from home, and Baba’s scissors among them. I almost wished the intruder were a thief, but the reality was much worse.
Norbu.
“Get out,” I told him coldly.
He gave me a false, cheerful smile. “And why would I want to do that?” he taunted. “A pity you didn’t burn in the hall. How is that hand of yours, by the way? Did the Lord Enchanter heal it for you?” He brushed his fingers across my pillow. “How did you pay him for his services?”
It was all I could do not to punch him. “Get out,” I said again.
Norbu didn’t move. “Do you know the price for lying to the emperor?” he said slowly, as if reveling in each word. “Your bones would be picked apart one by one, your eyes clawed out by ravens while you’re alive.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His smile widened. “You run well for someone with a lame leg, young Tamarin, given your injuries from the war.”
My breath caught in my throat. “I don’t—”
“Something about you has always seemed off, but I couldn’t figure out what,” Norbu interrupted. “I never heard of Old Master Tamarin having a son with such skill as yours. So I made some inquiries. Your father lost two sons to the Five Winters’ War. Only a crippled son survived. No one could tell me about his skill with the needle, so I left it at that…until our encounter the other night. I spied you running across the hall, and it gave me pause. The pieces didn’t come together immediately, but then I learned from Minister Lorsa that Old Tamarin had another child—” He held up one of my linen chest strips. “A daughter who just happened to work as his seamstress.”
My knees weakened. I wanted to accuse him of lying, but my tongue had turned to lead.
Norbu laughed. “You sew better than most girls. That is the best compliment I’ll give you. Concede the trial, and I won’t say a word to His Majesty about who you really are.”
“Why?” I sp
at. “Are you afraid you might lose to a woman?”
“No.” Norbu’s face contorted with cruelty. “But after losing two sons, I wonder how your father would cope with the death of his daughter.”
The words twisted an invisible dagger into my gut. “Go on and tell the emperor,” I said, but my voice shook. “And I’ll…I’ll tell how you poisoned Master Huan.”
Norbu let out a cackle. “Longhai’s been telling you stories, eh? You can’t prove it. Neither of you can.”
I curled my fists, hiding a wince when my muscles reminded me they were still healing. “You’re not denying it.”
“It was his time to go. His designs were old, and His Majesty needed a new tailor anyway.”
“That new tailor won’t be you!”
I almost accused him of using magic, but I stopped myself. If I could prove it at the trial, maybe I could send him home.
Laughing, Norbu touched my cheek and pressed his thigh against my leg. “I always thought you were a pretty boy. Perhaps a little kiss?”
I slammed my heel into his toes and slapped him as hard as I could. “I’m warning you,” I said, grabbing my scissors off my bed. I pointed them into his ribs. “Leave. Now.”
Norbu laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let your secret out…yet.” He stood at the door, then turned back. “I have some respect for you, even. A pity how far you’ll fall.”
He slipped out and was gone.
The panic that had kept me frozen in place thawed into a tight, hard knot. Trembling, I splashed cold water on my face. Even that didn’t startle the shadows from my heart.
I couldn’t let Norbu win. Even if he knew my secret, I couldn’t be afraid of him.
I would win this final challenge. No matter what it took.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was impossible to sleep with Norbu’s threat looming over me. Every sound rattled me. The mice skittering outside my door, the leaves rustling on the roof. Still, no one came for me, which meant Norbu hadn’t told the emperor my secret. Yet.
The more you worry about it, the less you’ll be able to concentrate on actually beating him, I scolded myself. Catching sight of my scissors, I bolted up. And you will.
I stayed awake, sketching until morning light streaked the walls of my chamber. Charcoal stained my palm, and my fingers were sore from drawing, but finally, the perfect dress formed on the page. Tucking my sketchbook under my arm, I hastened to my new workroom and began laying out fabrics over the cutting table.
I constructed the bodice first, layering sheaths of shimmering pale blue silk over satin, then sewing them all together. It gave the effect of a glittering ocean—the view I’d grown up with.
I worked more slowly because of my weak hand, but my seams were still perfect, so tight not even a needle could pierce them. I beaded the collar with a hundred tiny pearls, their luster like the sheen of the stars, and silver-embroidered lace.
Around midday, a light knock broke my concentration.
I assumed it was Edan. I’d gotten used to his unannounced visits, and truthfully I looked forward to them, especially now. Perhaps he could give me advice on what to do about Norbu.
Not Edan. Ammi, with lunch.
The kitchen maid wore a bright smile. Setting her tray on the round wooden table, she let out a gasp and picked up the bodice on my lap. She breathed, holding it to her, “Is this for Lady Sarnai’s dress? It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You think so?” I said, inhaling. “I’m not done yet.”
Ammi passed it back to me. “What more will you do?”
I was glad of a break, so I showed Ammi my sketch. “Do you think she’d like it?”
“Even the goddess Amana would love it,” Ammi said firmly.
I sighed. “Somehow I think even Amana is less picky than Lady Sarnai.”
We giggled together, and for a moment I forgot I was a boy. I cut my laugh short, but Ammi didn’t seem to notice my lapse in character.
“Will you be able to finish it in a week?” she said.
That was my main worry. I bit my lip. “I’ll do my best.”
“Norbu hasn’t even started,” she told me. “I went to bring him lunch, and he wasn’t there.”
I swallowed, knowing why Norbu had yet to work on his dress. “Do you know where he’s gone?”
“No, but no one is to leave the palace today. Lord Xina has returned. The emperor is not happy about the visit—the gates are closed until he departs.”
“I see. Thank you, Ammi. You’ve been more helpful than you know.”
Ammi’s shoulders heaved, the way mine always did when there was something on my mind that should be kept there. “I saw the Lord Enchanter watching you during the challenge,” she blurted. “Why didn’t you tell me—” She bit her lip. “I would have understood, but I assumed…”
“You think I’m with Edan?” I didn’t know whether to be horrified or amused. “The Lord Enchanter?”
“I won’t tell,” she said quickly. “It explains so much, anyway.” She cleared her throat, looking very red. “He’d always flirt with the maids, but I always wondered why he never chased any of them. Heaven knows they’ve thrown themselves at him.”
I started to tell her that she was out of her mind to think I was involved in some forbidden romance with Edan, but then I stopped. If Ammi thought me a boy who wasn’t interested in girls, we could be friends. I desperately wanted a friend in the palace.
“He is very handsome,” I admitted, a little startled to realize it wasn’t a lie. I pursed my lips. What else could I say about Edan? He was tall and lean, not as warriorlike as the emperor, but he looked just as strong. No, I couldn’t say that! I couldn’t comment on his eyes, either, on their ever-changing colors.
“He looks out for you,” Ammi said with a giggle. “You’re blushing.”
“Am not!” I said. Eager to change the subject, I raised my sketch of Lady Sarnai’s dress again. “Now tell me, as a girl who’s grown up watching the court, would a lady of Lady Sarnai’s station prefer wider sleeves or sleeves that come off the shoulder like what’s in fashion in the West now…?”
Ammi stayed until she was missed, giving me advice on what the ladies in court wore and on what might please Lady Sarnai. After she left, I sewed until the blisters on my fingers burst and I had to bandage them. I would need the scissors to complete the task in time.
I fluttered a sheet of sapphire silk onto my table and then reached for the scissors—the light reflected from the blades and shimmered against the walls behind me. As I raised them, they began to glow.
* * *
• • •
Only after I steamed and pressed my dress and carried it to Lady Sarnai’s apartments did I realize I had barely eaten or slept in days.
I wasn’t hungry or tired, though. Only anxious.
Norbu was already there, his dress mounted on a wooden mannequin. He’d chosen a heavier silk; from afar it almost looked like velvet, a deep burgundy the color of blood. As always, every piece of the dress was beautiful—the blouse trimmed with black fur along the collar, the sash beaded with drops of carved scarlet lacquer and jade, and the skirt embroidered with gold phoenixes sweeping up its skillfully draped folds. But my dress was stunning.
I was covering my work with a sheet to protect it from the sun when, from the corner of my eye, I saw Norbu stop to greet me.
He kicked at the skirts. “Not bad for a boy with a broken hand,” he said, touching my forearm.
I jerked. “Get away from me.”
His lips puckered, but he let me go. Lady Sarnai, Edan, and Minister Lorsa had arrived. Where was the emperor?
I glanced at Edan, but his gaze was on my dress. Was that a smile on his lips?
I looked away, my eye catching sight of a teapot on one of Lady Sarnai’s sid
e tables. I hoped I wouldn’t need to pour it over Norbu’s dress to unmask his illusion. It seemed clear that mine was better.
“Master Norbu,” Lady Sarnai said, “your dress is one that my mother would have worn.”
She moved to my corner of the room. How could she be so graceful while also so cruel? I couldn’t help admiring her as much as I disliked her.
I lifted the sheet covering my dress and heard a few sharp intakes of breath from Lady Sarnai’s maids. “It’s marvelous,” they whispered to one another.
“Have you ever seen anything so spectacular?”
“All the ladies in court will want one just like it.”
I leaned on my cane, drinking in their praise. For the hundredth time, I tried to look at my dress objectively and find a reason for Lady Sarnai to reject it. I couldn’t think of any.
My dress was a soft pearlescent blue, one of the many shades of the sea Sendo had taught me to see as a girl. The outer layer, a short robe wrapped under a sash fastened by a silver cord, was a richer sapphire, the long sleeves embroidered with tiny rose blossoms and soaring cranes with magnificent white wings. On the skirts were opal-petaled water lilies and golden fish swimming in a silvery pool above the hem embellished with seed pearls and layers of lace, like ripples of water.
For an empress, I was sure all would agree mine was more appropriate than Norbu’s. Certainly, more beautiful by far.
I exhaled, sure I had finally beaten him.
“Very fine work,” Lady Sarnai murmured. “Master Tamarin, truly you’ve outdone yourself.”
Her face was soft, almost kind. Was she in a better mood now that Lord Xina was here?
“Alas,” she said, “this trial must come to an end. Both Master Tamarin and Master Norbu are skilled beyond measure, but I feel one would serve me better than the other.” The softness dissolved, and she sent a sharp glance at Minister Lorsa.
The eunuch clasped his hands and announced, “Master Norbu has won the position.”
My knees buckled, and blood rushed to my ears, making my heart pound in my head. What? After everything that had happened, it couldn’t be. I couldn’t fail Baba and Keton, not like this.
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