Spin the Dawn

by Elizabeth Lim

  A rush of warmth heated my face. “But…how could you court me?” I blurted, wanting to take the words back as soon as they came out of my mouth. “What about your oath?”

  Edan looked vulnerable for once. “You told me to make up my mind, so I have,” he said softly. “It is an illusion to assume we choose whom we love. I cannot change how I feel about you. I would move the sun and the moon if it meant being with you. As for my oath…I cannot promise to break it, but I would do everything in my power to make you happy, Maia. That I can promise.”

  His words stirred a want inside me. I longed to kiss him and tell him all that I felt, but I bit my tongue.

  He reached for my hand. “Do you not want me to court you? Simply say the word and I’ll stop.”

  I wanted him to, more than anything. Yet something held me back. I withdrew my hand and made a show of picking a snarl out of Opal’s mane so I didn’t have to look at Edan. “Where do we go now?”

  Edan’s hands fell to his side. “South. To Lake Paduan.”

  “That’s where we’ll find the blood of stars?”

  “Indeed,” he said quietly. “It will be the hardest of the three to acquire.”

  I ignored the swirls of dread curdling in my stomach. “I take it that’s a hint to start on the carpet.”

  I had two bundles of yarn that Edan had bought in the Samarand Passage. The colors were poorly dyed—a washed-out blue and a dull coppery red. I began knotting the base for a rug to the dimensions Edan specified. The rest, I’d leave to my scissors.

  “Why didn’t we stay on Rainmaker’s Peak?” I asked as we rode through a flat stretch of forest. “Surely the top of a mountain is the closest we’ll come to the stars.”

  “You haven’t studied the Book of Songs, have you?” chided Edan gently. “In one of the odes, the Great Eulogy to Li’nan, it’s written that ‘the stars are brightest in the dark, and the dark is in the forgotten.’ We must go to the Forgotten Isles of Lapzur in Lake Paduan. The Ghost Fingers.”

  “Where the god of thieves shot the stars to make them bleed,” I said. “I know the myth.”

  “The myth doesn’t tell you everything.”

  “And you know everything?”

  “No.” He spread his palms. “But I’ve had many more years to study and learn than you. A knowledge of A’landi’s classical poetry would enrich your craft, Maia. And I think you’d appreciate its beauty, even better than I.” He tilted his head, lost in thought. “I’ll pass you my books once we reach the Autumn Palace. I only hope the servants brought them all.”

  The Autumn Palace. It felt so far from here, both in distance and time. The red sun was less than a month away now, and I still had much work to do on Lady Sarnai’s three dresses. What reception could we look forward to when we returned?

  I was the imperial tailor, he the Lord Enchanter. Edan would be busy advising the emperor…and I’d be pretending to be a boy again. Even if we didn’t have his oath to worry about, how could we be together?

  Edan didn’t say anything further, which made me nervous. The silence between us was charged, like waiting for lightning to strike. Every extra beat grew heavier, so that being near him was like brushing against fire. It was only so long before I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Sendo used to scare me with stories about the Ghost Fingers,” I said with a shudder. I hadn’t believed in ghosts when I was a child, but the last few months had changed much. “He said that Lake Paduan was once home to a great civilization, an ancient city of treasure beyond our imagination. Legends of it spread, and men grew greedy. But they could never cross the water—storms and dangerous conditions would force their boats to turn around.

  “Then one day, a ship made the crossing. It was the first to trespass on the islands for hundreds of years, so the city welcomed the men as a sign from the gods. They posed as traders, but they were really barbarians who had used magic to reach the city. At night they killed everyone. The residents became ghosts; the lake rose, flooding the city until only what we know as the Forgotten Isles remained, and the barbarians were cursed to be demons, rich with treasure but never able to leave.”

  “A high price to pay for their greed,” Edan commented. “The people of the city didn’t deserve what happened to them. You know the story well.”

  “I didn’t know it was real.”

  “Your brother got part of it right.”

  “Which part?”

  “The part about the ghosts,” said Edan. “If you see one, be wary. If you touch one, you will die and become a ghost yourself.”

  The warning brought goose bumps to my skin. “What about a demon?”

  “If you see a demon,” Edan said darkly, “my advice would be to run.”

  “Will we encounter any there?”

  He paused. “We must prepare for that possibility.”

  I swallowed. I’d learned by now that Edan was always prepared, but the gravity of his tone meant that what lay ahead was going to be very dangerous indeed.

  “And how are we going to cross the lake?” I asked.

  “We’re going to fly.” Edan pointed at the carpet I was weaving. “On that.”

  I was incredulous. “You mean we could have been flying this whole time? You could have told me that before I climbed that mountain!”

  Edan shook his head. “Magic must be conserved. And Lake Paduan is full of—surprises.” A cloud passed over his face. “I’ve been there. It is a place not easily forgotten.”

  “Why were you there?”

  “An enchanter’s training is shrouded in secrecy,” he said, “but we are tested much as you are—trials of the body, mind, and soul.”

  “And one of them was on the Forgotten Isles?”

  “The last one.” Edan hesitated. “We had to drink the blood of the stars. It is the final test every enchanter must take.”

  The blood of the stars! “What happens when you drink it?”

  “Your powers increase a hundredfold, and you are gifted with a thousand years of life,” replied Edan softly. “It is the aspiration of every young enchanter. We are so foolish in our youth. So eager to believe we can change the world. And I was younger than most when it was my turn.” He paused. “More reckless, too. Most who take of the stars do not survive. I was lucky…or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.”

  I pursed my lips. Immortality and power, in exchange for being a slave. Of course, they probably didn’t call it slavery in the oath. How strange Edan’s youth must have been.

  “Why would you want to become an enchanter?” I asked.

  “We don’t think of being bound to the oath as a sacrifice, but as an honor. It is an honor to use our powers to better this world.”

  “But you might have a terrible master.”

  “That is the balance of fate. We are not invincible, and our numbers dwindle as new eras dawn and people forget about magic. When you have served as long as I have, it is impossible not to grow disillusioned with the oath.” His voice fell soft. “It becomes impossible not to wonder if you might be happier without magic.”

  His gaze bored into me, deep and penetrating. Melting my resistance.

  “I know one thing, Maia Tamarin—being with you makes me happier than I have ever been.”

  I couldn’t fight my heart any longer. “I’m glad you became an enchanter,” I said fiercely. “I know you’ve suffered, far more than you let on. But if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have met you.”

  I picked the flowers from my hair and buried my face in them, inhaling their scent. Somehow, I swore to myself, somehow I will find a way to set Edan free. Then, so softly that I almost didn’t hear myself, I whispered, “You may court me.”

  Slowly, Edan traced a finger over my lips and kissed me, then moved on to kiss every freckle on my nose and cheeks until I was intoxicated by the sweetness
of his breath.

  “But only if you tell me your names,” I said, surfacing for air. “One for each day.”

  He groaned. “I’m going to have to court you for a thousand days?”

  “Is that too long?”

  “I was hoping for a hundred at most.”

  “And?” I held my breath. I didn’t know what courtship had been like in Edan’s home country, but he’d been in A’landi long enough to know that a man didn’t court a woman without serious intentions.

  “It would be no fun for me if I told you all my plans for us.”

  “Edan!”

  He smiled mysteriously. I had no idea what he was thinking, but the happiness on his face was contagious. I smiled too, warmed.

  “It would be easier if you didn’t have to pretend to be a boy,” Edan admitted, “and if I weren’t under oath to serve the emperor. But we’ll figure it out, day by day. I promise.”

  “I already know four of your names,” I whispered, placing my hand over his. “And Edan. So it’d be nine hundred and ninety-five days. Tell me your first name.”

  “My first name was Gen,” he said. “It’s the most ordinary of names; it means boy.”

  “Boy!” I exclaimed. “That’s hardly a name at all.”

  “It isn’t,” he agreed. “My father had seven sons, and by the time I was born, he had run out of names. So that was what he called me. I had no other name until I was much older.”

  I opened his hand and traced the lines of his palm. They were long and smooth, seemingly without end. “And what does Edan mean?”

  He smiled, his lips parting slightly before they covered mine. “It means hawk.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Autumn was coming. The summer heat mellowed, and I could feel a chill in the wind; it made the hairs on the back of my neck tingle and my fingers dance past each stitch a beat slower and stiffer than I was used to. In the forest the edges of the leaves were gilded amber, and the verdant landscape bloomed with reds, oranges, and even purples.

  We left the Dhoya Forest behind us and made our way back to the Great Spice Road. On the way to Lake Paduan, we passed through a town or two, where I posted letters to Baba and Keton, but we never stopped for long, and always made camp some miles out. Now that we knew the shansen was searching for Edan, we needed to be careful.

  Every day I woke at dawn to rekindle the campfire and greet my enchanter when he returned to me, hungry for my touch. Our mornings and days were dedicated to kissing—whether on foot or on horseback. It had to be an enchantment that our horses knew where to go, for Edan and I paid little attention unless they veered off the Road.

  The nights grew longer and darker the closer we drew to Lake Paduan, and my sleep grew deeper. One morning I arose late and was just stirring the fire when I spied Edan’s hawk form gliding down toward me.

  He landed behind the flaming hearth, transforming into a man. An intense, now-familiar heat rippled through me.

  Edan’s eyes were still yellow, and sweat beaded on his temples. He looked tired.

  I knelt beside him as he sat against a poplar tree by the campfire. His shirt was misbuttoned, and I fought the urge to fix it for him. “How can we lift your curse?”

  “It isn’t a curse; it’s an oath.”

  “An oath you can’t break. What’s the difference?”

  “There’s no easy answer,” he said grimly. “Khanujin isn’t going to free me unless he is compelled to.”

  “Not even after the wedding, when there’s finally peace?”

  “I wouldn’t depend on that.”

  I lay on the ground next to him, taking in the grove of poplars around us, most of the trees so tall they obstructed my view of the sunrise. I didn’t mind. There was something beautiful about these woods, and I was content simply watching the trees sway, like feathers ruffled by the wind.

  “I think about Lady Sarnai sometimes,” I murmured. “Her heart is with Lord Xina. Do you think she’ll ever love Emperor Khanujin?”

  Edan softened. “It doesn’t matter. They’re to be married for the peace of A’landi.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “It’s the way of kings and queens,” he said distantly. “Doesn’t matter where you are. It’s all the same.”

  I wondered then how many kings he had served. Whether his boyish grin and lanky figure were part of another enchantment…were part of his oath.

  “And what about you?” I asked, feeling bold. “Will you ever marry?”

  A rare blush colored Edan’s neck. “I hope to.”

  “You hope?” I teased. “You’re courting me—you can’t renege now!”

  “Marriage isn’t advised while bound to the oath,” he replied slowly. “You would age while I stayed young.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “You say that now, but your opinion might change.” A note of urgency strained Edan’s voice. “And if my amulet were ever lost, I’d become a hawk again. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

  “Let me decide what’s fair and what isn’t.”

  He turned and held my hands, rubbing the calluses along my fingers. “It’s just…I don’t want you to have regrets, Maia. You’re young, with dreams and a family to care for. And now that you’re the imperial tailor—I don’t want you to throw it all away on a foolish boy like me.”

  “I wouldn’t stop sewing for you, Edan,” I said lightly. “I’d open a shop in the capital—one by the ocean, preferably. I’d draw by the water and sew all day.” I wiggled into the hollow of his shoulder and rested my head there. “And you’re not foolish—not for chasing magic. I can see in your eyes how much you love it. Enough to pay such a terrible price.” I paused to chew on my lower lip. “Would you lose it, if you were freed?”

  “Enchanters are born with magic,” he answered, “but yes, I would lose my sensitivity to it, and my ability to channel its power. Something I would welcome if it meant being with you.”

  I swallowed, feeling an ache rise in my chest—but one that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “What would you be, if you were free?”

  The deepness in his voice faded, and he sounded like the boy he was. “If I were free? Perhaps I’d be a musician and play my flute, or work with horses in a rich man’s stable.”

  “You do love your horses.”

  He winked at me. “Or I’d be an old, fat sage with a long beard. Would you still love me then?”

  “I can’t imagine you with a beard,” I said, touching his smooth chin. My fingers slid down to his neck, stopping just before his heart. A throb in my chest again. “But yes. Always.”

  “Good.” He grinned, the dimple on the left corner of his mouth making an appearance. “I’ll be in charge of tutoring the children. I hope you know I expect many. At least eight.”

  I slapped his shoulder playfully. “Eight!”

  “I had six brothers, after all. I’m used to a big family.” He sat up to kiss me, and despite the tiredness on his face, his eyes shone with a contentment I’d never seen before.

  “We couldn’t afford eight children in the capital.”

  “Then I’ll grow a money tree when we’re back in the palace.”

  I couldn’t tell if he was joking. “A money tree?”

  “How else do you think freed enchanters become wealthy?” Edan snorted. “I have the seeds tucked away in a secret hatch in my room. We can use it to buy a nice mansion for us and your father and brother, with a hundred servants.” He looked worried. “Do you think your baba will like me?”

  “My baba cares nothing about wealth,” I said, laughing. Happiness bubbled in me as I thought of Edan trying to impress Baba and befriend Keton. “He’ll only want you to be good to me.”

  “I will be,” Edan promised. “Better than good.” He reached into his pocket and took out a small leather bo
ok with a blue cover and a thin golden cord and tassel for tying it together. Its edges were slightly bent from having been in his pocket. “For you.”

  “A new sketchbook?”

  “I picked it up in Samaran,” he said sheepishly. “You looked like you were almost done with yours.”

  “You are observant.” I brought the sketchbook to my nose, inhaling the scent of fresh paper. I reached for Edan’s cheek and traced his hairline to his jaw. A brief shiver tingled down my spine. “I wonder who should be my next subject.”

  Edan made a face. “Enchanters don’t often sit for portraits. We’re too restless. However, I will be in need of a new cloak soon.” He gestured at his fraying one. “In case you wish to thank me, Master Tailor.”

  “A sketchbook for a cloak? Hardly seems like a fair trade.”

  “It’s a magic sketchbook,” Edan said, reaching for it.

  I rolled my eyes. “Really.”

  “See, when you turn it upside down, sand falls out.” Edan smiled widely as he caught the desert’s golden grains in his palm. “Sand, sand, and more sand.”

  “Oh, you!”

  He laughed. “So, Master Tamarin, can I count on you making me the best-dressed enchanter in all the Seven Lands?”

  I turned out his collar, straightening it. I clicked my tongue. “You can hardly be the best-dressed enchanter in any land if you can’t even button your shirt properly.”

  “Ah.” Edan looked down at his shirt helplessly. Laughing, I reached out to fix it. But the laughter on my lips faded as he drew me close.

  My whole body trembled, but my fingers most of all as they undid his buttons one by one, and try as I might, I couldn’t steady them. As my hands traveled down his chest, my heart hammered, betraying a need I didn’t know lurked inside me.

  He locked his hands around my waist and kissed me again, more tenderly than ever before. “Thank you, Master Tailor,” he murmured. He started to rebutton his shirt, but I placed my palm on his bare chest.