“H-he can’t win,” I stammered. “Master Norbu’s dress is an illusion.”
Before anyone could stop me, I reached for Lady Sarnai’s pot of tea and splashed its contents at Norbu’s dress.
The dress wilted, the rich burgundy fading as the texture of the silk thinned and roughened. Slowly, the fur and beading disappeared, and the gold phoenixes shriveled until they were threadbare, leaving behind little more than a sheath of white silk sewn into the form of a dress.
“Well, there we have it,” Edan said, a beat after Minister Lorsa sniffed with disbelief. “Magic, and a rather poor display of one at that. Master Tamarin is the more skilled tailor. That is clear to all.”
Lady Sarnai crossed her arms, her lips curling into a tight grimace. “Regardless, I prefer Master Norbu’s service.”
“But, Your Highness,” Edan said thinly, “we all know how strongly you feel about the use of enchantment.”
“This is my decision,” she insisted. “The emperor and I agreed upon this in the truce.”
“His Majesty and your father agreed you could select a tailor,” said Edan sharply, “not a spy. Master Norbu, I take it, was more compliant than Master Tamarin in accepting your terms.”
Lady Sarnai’s jaw locked, and she glared at me.
Meanwhile, Norbu made no move to leave. “Master Tamarin?” he asked calmly. “Don’t you mean Mistress Tamarin?” He was fast for such a large man, and I moved too late. He ripped at the buttons on my tunic, exposing the straps over my chest.
Lady Sarnai gasped, and the maids covered their mouths with their hands.
A cold tide of alarm seized me. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. I stood immobile—in shock, as the world spun.
“She’s a girl, Your Highness,” Norbu said. “She lied to you all.”
“No—” I started.
Lady Sarnai raised a hand, silencing everyone. “Lord Enchanter,” she said, beckoning Edan to her. “Is this true?”
I wasn’t sure whether it was an accusation that he’d known, or whether Lady Sarnai simply wanted him to inspect me. Edan looked at me unflinchingly.
“Yes,” he said. “It’s true.”
My chest squeezed tight. I met Lady Sarnai’s eyes, waiting for the chilly dismissal I’d come to expect from the shansen’s daughter. But for once, her brows unfurrowed, and her lips eased out of their usual frown. Time stretched. There was something in her stare I’d never seen before: compassion.
I dared hope that she might take pity on me. After all, I was a girl—like her. One who’d risked everything to break free of the roles this world expected of her. She would understand better than anyone.
Then Lady Sarnai fluttered a hand, and my heart sank. “Take her away.”
“Please, Your Highness!” I shouted. “Please—don’t.”
Her bodyguards grabbed me, and I turned to Edan. But he spoke not a word in my defense. Nothing, as Norbu smirked and the servants watched with widened eyes.
“What will her punishment be?” Edan simply asked Lady Sarnai.
The shansen’s daughter paused, considering. “Forty lashes to her back—wake her if she faints and restart the count. I’ll ask His Majesty to have her hanged in the morning.”
I let out a strangled cry.
Edan bowed to Lady Sarnai. It was curt, but obedient. “As you wish.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
There were forty-nine steps down into the palace dungeon. I don’t know why I counted. Perhaps to calm myself. A hopeless goal.
My heart hammered so fast that I was out of breath and panting by the time the guards dragged me down the last step. The smell of rot made my insides curdle, and I could hear cockroaches and rats skittering on the cold stones.
A thread of fear bristled up my neck. I won’t be afraid, I told myself. I won’t be afraid.
My eyes strained to adjust to the darkness, and I barely saw the guards rounding on me. They struck me in the ribs and kicked me to my knees so that I landed in a rotten pile of hay, coughing and whimpering.
One guard grabbed me by my hair and chained my ankle to the wall. “We used these shackles last for a maid who stole from His Majesty. He ordered her hands chopped off. Wonder what he’ll do to you.”
I coughed until I could breathe again. I couldn’t imagine Emperor Khanujin ordering such a brutal punishment. But what did I really know of him?
What did I know of anyone?
Edan hadn’t spoken out to help me.
That hurt more than any whipping. But he had warned me not to think of him as a friend, hadn’t he? I should have listened.
No matter what happens, I won’t scream. I won’t let them break me.
Easier thought than done.
The guards tore away my tunic and ripped off my chest strips—so fast I’d barely crossed my arms to cover myself when the whip burned into my skin, a stinging line of fire. Blood splattered onto the cold stone floor. I tried not to look at it, tried to focus on keeping my arms over my chest, and on the unthinkable count to forty. It helped that cold tears spilled down my face, blurring my sight.
The guards picked up their rhythm. Faster. Harder. Each lash bit into me, gashing my back, and I chewed on my lip so hard my mouth grew hot with blood. On the seventh lash, I screamed. The world went black, then exploded into color, over and over with each lash, and at some point, I stopped remembering to breathe between each scream.
“That’s enough!” a voice thundered.
I barely recognized who it was. My back was on fire. I collapsed.
My shackles clattered away and Edan draped his cloak over me. He was carrying me somewhere. Torches burned from the walls, the light hurting my eyes. But the air was still dank and still cold.
Then a metal door shuddered open, and five steps in, Edan stopped. Gently, he sat down, cradling me on his lap.
“Go away,” I said, but my words came out garbled. Even I couldn’t understand them.
“Open up.” He held my chin up as he dribbled something in my mouth. “Come, Maia. Swallow. You need to drink this.”
The taste was so bitter I nearly spat it out. Edan hadn’t bothered sweetening whatever concoction it was that he’d brought this time.
But the pain did dull. Slowly.
With a great exhale, I shifted away from him, but his hold on me was firm. He touched my bare back with his fingers.
“I should have gotten here earlier,” he said, his jaw clenched.
I clutched his cloak, pulling the folds over my chest. “Am I to be hanged?”
“This is where they keep the highborn prisoners,” Edan said, avoiding the question. “It’s a little nicer than where you were earlier.”
The smell was still rank, but there was a small window that let in light.
I turned away from him. “What happened to Norbu?”
“He’s been taken away. His Majesty was displeased to hear his loyalty could be so easily bought.”
“So he’ll be executed.”
“That is the penalty for conspiring against the emperor.”
I lifted my gaze, but my words faltered. “Will I be executed?”
Edan’s voice was tight. “I’ve asked Khanujin to hear your testimony first.”
“What for?” I said. “Everyone knows I’m a girl.”
He didn’t reply.
Strange, how little fear I felt. I supposed the lashes helped. Or whatever enchantment Edan was casting over me as he touched my cheek.
“Will you stay?” I asked quietly.
Edan wiped the corners of my mouth with his handkerchief. “Until you fall asleep, yes.”
Tiredly, I laid my head against his chest. He didn’t move. Didn’t wrap his arms around me, or push me away. But his heartbeat quickened a notch.
“I’m sorry, Maia,” he whis
pered.
It might have meant more to me had I known that this was the first time Edan the Lord Enchanter had ever apologized to anyone.
* * *
• • •
When I awoke, it was morning. The guards outside were shouting at one another, and Edan was gone.
Gingerly, I touched my back. The skin was numb, the gashes already healing. Even the strips of linen around my chest had woven themselves together again.
Magic.
I swallowed hard, remembering Edan’s visit. Remembering what awaited me in a few short hours.
It was difficult to stand. My back ached, and fiery pain shot down my legs as I limped to the door and pressed my ear to the keyhole.
I heard sweeping and splashing.
“Hurry, you laggards!” someone yelled. “His Majesty is here.”
More sweeping. More splashing. Then silence.
Nervously, I raked my hands through my hair and backed into the corner. It was hard for me to imagine the emperor stepping into a dungeon.
But here he was, in front of my cell.
Gray light flickered over Emperor Khanujin’s face as the guards opened the door. The gold trim of his robes glittered against the bleak cell walls.
“Your Majesty,” I croaked, forcing my battered body into a bow. My mouth was dry, and I must have smelled awful. I dared not look up at him.
His voice was hard. “Master Tamarin, you find yourself in the unfortunate position of having lied to me. A capital offense.”
I hung my head. I’d known from the beginning what would happen if I was caught and found out. I had to be strong.
“You fooled Lady Sarnai into thinking you were your father’s son. You are not Keton Tamarin.”
“No, Your Majesty.” I stared at my hands. “My name is Maia. I am the youngest child of Kalsang Tamarin.”
“His daughter,” the emperor murmured. “Yes, it makes sense now. I always thought there was something different about you. Perhaps it was your eyes.” He stepped forward, into a stripe of light. “They don’t belong to a boy who fought in my war.”
Daylight shimmered over the pearl and ruby beads tinkling down the emperor’s headdress as he cocked his head to one side, his gaze settling on my bloodied rags. “Given your lashing, I hope you’ll still be able to sew.”
He held out my scissors. They were dull even in the light—a pair of ordinary shears, or so it seemed. I held my breath.
“My Lord Enchanter said you are able to wield limited magic,” he said. “Is this true?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
He touched my chin and lifted it. A little thrill coursed through me, making me draw in a sharp breath. I looked up into his eyes in surprise.
There I was, ensnared again by the emperor’s mysterious magnificence. Even in the dungeon, he was radiant—his touch was enough to make me forget my pain, my shame. My fear.
“A pity you did not tell me earlier,” Emperor Khanujin murmured. “Such a talent is rare, especially in a girl.” He brushed his hand to the side of my lips, and I thought I might faint from the tenderness of it. Then he withdrew his hand, but our eyes were still locked.
“You should be hanged. But—” He paused. “But you have a gift I need. So I will commute the sentence, for now.”
I tilted my chin up. “Sire?”
“You will reassume your brother’s identity. The imperial tailor’s position is closed to women, and must remain so. Edan will make everyone forget your deception. But I will remember.”
I swallowed, nodding in spite of my confusion.
“The future of A’landi depends on my marriage to the shansen’s daughter. Whatever she requests of you, you will do. You live now only because of your talent with these scissors.” The emperor forced them into my hand. “Fail me, and you will be hanged. As will your father and brother. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I whispered.
I was in a daze—I couldn’t sort out my thoughts. What would I have to do for Lady Sarnai that was so important the emperor was going to spare me?
But my tongue could not form the proper words in Emperor Khanujin’s presence. Only when he was out of sight was his spell broken.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Being named the imperial tailor should have been one of the happiest moments of my life, but my bargain with the emperor cast a cloud over my victory. I had to please Lady Sarnai. Or else Baba and Keton would die.
I wasn’t looking forward to working with the shansen’s daughter. Then again, she’d already made me craft shoes out of glass, jackets out of paper—and I’d survived.
How bad could another dress be?
My heart beat wildly as I approached the Great Hall of Wonders. The largest audience chamber in the Summer Palace, it spanned a wide courtyard and was several stories tall, the stairs carved with statues of golden birds, elephants, and tigers. Inside were mosaic walls (a gift from A’landi’s friends in Samaran), brilliant vermillion carpets that stretched as far as my eyes could see, windows that glowed with diffused sunlight, and three prominently displayed jade sculptures of the goddess Amana.
Edan cleared his throat, appearing behind me. “I’m happy to see you’re out of that vile place.”
I whirled to face the enchanter. For once, no grin tilted his mouth, no mischief twinkled in his eye. Instead he stood, his arms folded, and fixed me with a solemn look.
I hesitated. “Did you really make everyone forget that I’m a girl?”
He bent his head to the side. “Whatever His Majesty wishes will be done.”
“Just like that?” I frowned. “With a wave of your hand. Or a snap of your fingers.”
Edan shrugged. He looked tired, the area around his eyes weary and dark. I wondered whether the magic he’d cast to make everyone forget I was a girl explained the shadows clinging to his face.
“It’s a bit more complicated than that” was all he would say. Before I could respond, he gestured at the passageway leading to the main chamber. “Come with me.”
I followed nervously, treading across the carpet as if I were moving through a thicket of thorns. I recognized a few faces: Minister Lorsa, Lady Sarnai, and Emperor Khanujin. Lord Xina, who, as Ammi had mentioned, was visiting. The other members of the court were strangers to me: eunuchs, important officials, and one or two foreign dignitaries.
I kept waiting for someone to shout, “She’s a girl! She’s an impostor!” But it was as Edan had promised: no one blinked twice at my name, or at my face.
Still, each step was heavier than the last. When I finally reached the emperor’s throne, I was breathing hard, as if I had walked a hundred miles, not a hundred steps.
“The trial has come to an end,” Emperor Khanujin announced as I knelt before him. “I have decided to award the position of imperial tailor to Keton Tamarin, who will receive a remittance of twenty thousand jens a year.”
Twenty thousand jens a year! For a moment, I let myself revel in knowing that Baba and Keton would never starve again. That now I was a master, one whose skill no one could doubt.
“Rise, Master Tamarin,” continued the emperor. “Now that you serve the Son of Heaven as a tailor of the imperial realm, you are a master of your craft to all.”
I forced a smile as I stood. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Thank you, Master Tamarin,” Emperor Khanujin said. His ministers and officials echoed the words. “Lady Sarnai, you asked that I find the most talented tailor in A’landi to sew a wedding garment for you. Master Tamarin is yours to command.”
Lady Sarnai said nothing. Like Edan, she stood beside the emperor’s throne, but she was staring at something—or someone—so hard I thought her gaze might pierce the walls. I could not see who had captured her attention, but I did recognize the man’s voice. It was deep, each word like a g
rowl.
“The shansen wishes to know when the marriage will proceed,” said Lord Xina, “and whether Lady Sarnai’s conditions have been met.”
I tensed, wondering if I’d imagined a note of anguish in his words. How must it feel for him, knowing that Lady Sarnai’s tactics to delay her marriage to the emperor had failed, and that the woman he loved would soon be wed to another man?
“You may report to the shansen that his daughter requests a wedding dress,” the emperor replied tersely, “to be completed by—”
Lady Sarnai suddenly spoke. “There will be three dresses.”
Her gaze left Lord Xina and settled on me. There was a gleam in her eyes that I did not like.
A murmur of terror bubbled in my chest. Slowly, the shansen’s daughter glided down the three steps from the emperor’s throne until she was level with me, so close I could smell the jasmine oil used to perfume her hair. So close I could see the glimmer of confusion flicker across her brow when she held me in her gaze.
I held my breath, knowing exactly what she was trying to remember. Edan’s enchantment had worked on everyone else, but if Lady Sarnai—
Her expression cleared, and she shook off whatever bothered her about me. It wasn’t as important as what she wanted to say.
“Perhaps you know the legend of the god of thieves?” she asked. “He was so skilled he boasted that he could steal Amana’s children: the sun, the moon, and the stars. The gods laughed at him, but he was undeterred. He captured the first two of Amana’s children easily, but the stars—they danced in the sky and were difficult to catch. So he shot arrows into them, and caught their essence as they bled into the sky. Amana was so enraged that she buried the world in darkness. Even when the god of thieves gave back what he had stolen, she was not appeased.
“So he called upon Heaven’s tailor to make Amana a gift. He had kept slivers of the sun, the moon, and the stars, and he asked the tailor to make three dresses so beautiful they blinded the mortal eye. The tailor succeeded. The dresses were so dazzling Amana forgave the thief and returned light to the world, but only for half the day—for the fragments the thief had given to make the dresses meant the day could never be whole again. A lesson never to anger the mother goddess.”
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