by Natasha Ngan
And finally—a smile.
Lill scrubs the back of her hand across her eyes. “If you don’t inhale it all first,” she murmurs with a sniff.
I laugh, such a strong rush of affection hitting me then that it temporarily pushes aside the exhaustion. And even though it takes us twice as long as it should to make the trip back through Paper House to my bedroom because my steps are shaky and I have to keep stopping to swallow down surges of nausea, I keep a smile on my face for her.
After we eat the food Mistress Eira ordered for me—and two more helpings after that—Lill takes me for an early bath. There’s a while before the rest of the girls wake. Though the sun has just broken the horizon, night still clings to the air. Because of the late summer heat we’ve been experiencing, it’s been easy to forget that autumn will arrive soon with the turn of the tenth month, but the days are noticeably shorter now. The morning air is crisp. Herb-fragranced steam rises from the bubbling tubs.
Taking care to be gentle, Lill helps me out of my grubby robes. The fresh air is as welcome as kisses on my skin.
Then I remember the last time I was naked.
Not kisses, but teeth on my skin.
I scramble into the water, slopping it over the sides of the barrel in my hurry. Lill comes forward to wash me, but I cup her hands and take the sponge from her. “I’d like to do it myself, if that’s all right?” I ask, and she nods, seeming to understand.
Slowly, I draw the sponge over my body. I take my time, methodical, careful to reach every inch, every spot of pale skin. I’m not nearly as dirty as when I had the bath that first night I arrived at the palace. At least, not physically. But it’s a similar feeling of cleansing as I wash, of my body becoming lighter the murkier the bathwater gets. And with the shrill song of the birds in the eaves and the familiar sounds of Paper House waking, I finally start to relax. It’s so good to be able to move my limbs freely, especially now that my energy is coming back after that gigantic breakfast, and I tilt my chin up to the sky, swishing about in the tub as my hair fans around me in dark waves.
We get back to my room just as the morning gong sounds. Seconds later, my door slams open. Aoki bounds in, still in her nightdress and her short hair a mess.
“Lei!” she gasps. Just like Lill, she dives straight at me. Her heartbeat jangles against mine as she clutches me fiercely. “I was so scared when Madam Himura told us what you’d done! I thought… well, you don’t want to know what I thought. When she said you were being confined for a week as punishment, I actually felt relieved.”
“I guess I’m lucky the King didn’t throw me out,” I say as she lets me go.
Or kill me, I add silently.
Aoki’s lips flatten. “He must really desire you.” There’s a strange constriction to her voice. Then she takes my hands and leans in, face gleaming. “Oh, it’s been horrible without you here, Lei! Madam Himura’s been even worse than usual, snapping at every little thing—”
“What have I been doing?”
Aoki’s eyes almost pop out of her head.
She spins round. Framed in the doorway, Madam Himura glares down at us, her beaked chin jutting into the air.
“M-Madam Himura!” Aoki stutters. “I didn’t mean—”
The eagle-woman jabs her cane on the floor. “Quiet, girl! It’s too early for your blabbering.” Glowering, her cool eyes fix mine. “I expect you to perform your best in every one of your lessons from now on, Lei-zhi. The teachers will be reporting to me on your progress after each class. And to make sure you’ve got the right kind of influence around you”—she cuts a scathing look in Aoki’s direction—“I’ve ordered one of the other girls to accompany you for the next few weeks. You could do well to learn from her.” She waves a taloned hand. “Now, get ready for your classes! And you—get to the bathing tubs. That filthy mouth of yours needs scrubbing.”
As the eagle-woman drags her from the room, Aoki looks back over her shoulder, an expression of pure terror on her face.
I restrain a laugh. She might still be terrifying, but there are far worse things than getting shouted at by Madam Himura.
When I leave my room a while later, I find Wren waiting in the corridor. The memory of her closeness a few nights ago, how intimate we were with each other, makes me flush. She looks just as she did that night, face bare, hair relaxed and wavy, falling in soft drifts over her shoulders. My hand lifts toward her, an impulsive movement, and I quickly cover the gesture by smoothing down the collar of my robes.
“So you’re the one who will be babysitting me.”
“Who else would it be? Didn’t you know, Lei, I’m at the top of the class?”
“Is that so?” Glancing round to make sure the other girls are out of earshot, I add, “Top of what class? Thievery?”
Her eyes glint, but she keeps her voice casual. “Yes, I heard about some food going missing from the kitchens. A real mystery. Do you have any idea where it went?”
I grin. “Into someone’s belly, I expect.”
“Well, I hope that person enjoyed them.”
“I’m certain they did.”
Wren smiles, a warm, honeyed curl of her lips that draws my eyes. Before we can say anything more, the door behind her opens.
“Lei!” Aoki calls, bustling out of her room and linking her arm through mine. “Come on, you can’t be late on your first day back.” And although she shoots a curious look at Wren, she doesn’t say anything, just lifts her brows at me as if to say, Well, all right, then.
Lips cocked in amusement, Wren falls into step beside me, and together the three of us make our way down the corridor. Though we don’t mention it again, I can sense the secret of what passed between Wren and me three nights ago like a cord, an invisible strand running from her body to mine. Whenever she makes a movement—even something as small as brushing a speck of dust from her hair or adjusting her sash—my eyes instinctively cut her way, and I wonder if she’s noticing it, too, this tether, this pull between us.
During the first days of my confinement, I’d tried the breathing technique Mama taught me over and over again to no avail, unable to find comfort in it. Light in, darkness out. Trapped in that tiny room, there only seemed to be darkness, and though I wanted to be set free, I also knew that the moment I was, it would be straight back to my Paper Girl life.
And to the King.
But then Wren came along with her stolen food and warm hands, and a spark of something—the barest quiver of light—entered the room. And after that, my breaths came a little easier, a little brighter. Not quite golden, but… sun-touched.
Now I shoot Wren a look out of the corner of my eye, Aoki’s chatter wrapping around us. She offers me a brief half smile in return.
“All right?” she mouths.
I nod.
And while it’s not exactly the truth, it isn’t a lie, either.
The pavilion where our qi lessons take place is an ornate, two-tiered building with red beams and a magenta-tiled roof, their colors vivid against the faded green of the surrounding gardens. It sits in the center of a shallow, circular lake. Sunlight glitters on its surface. Birds dart low over the water, on the hunt for small fish and insects, their wingbeats casting ripples in the blue.
We step under the rustle of prayer sheets fluttering from the eaves of the pavilion. As usual, Master Tekoa is waiting for us on the floor. He’s wearing loose wrap trousers, thighs crossed, his lean torso bare despite the chill. A monkey’s tail protrudes from the top of his trousers—along with the wiry copper fur sheathing his legs, the only indication of his Steel status.
“Take your places,” he says without rising.
Aoki, Wren, and I are the last to arrive. I haven’t yet had to face the others this morning, and as I cross to the back of the pavilion, they’re all staring at me. I keep my head low. The boost of energy from this morning’s meal has been spent on the walk over here, and though I try to kneel down slowly when I get to my usual spot, it’s more of an ungraceful drop.
Although Madam Himura sent a shaman on my second day in confinement to clean my skin of any marks left by her or the King, she asked him to leave my pain as a reminder of my failings. Some of it has settled, a dull ache in the pits of my muscles. I roll my shoulders, trying to ease the rigidness in my back.
In front of me, Zhen and Zhin look over their shoulders.
“We were worried about you, Lei,” Zhen murmurs, her short forehead furrowed.
Her sister nods. “How are you feeling?”
“Not too bad,” I reply. “Thanks for asking. Did I miss anything important?”
The corner of Zhin’s lip quirks. “Only if you count Mariko getting drunk at a dinner one night and almost setting herself on fire by falling into a row of lanterns.”
I smother a laugh. “Definitely. Did she set anything else aflame, by chance?”
“Sadly not,” Zhin sighs. “Though my maid told me she threw up in a bush outside Madam Himura’s bedroom, and the whole of the next day Madam Himura was in such a mood because she didn’t know where the bad smell was coming from.”
This time I can’t help a snort. The twins flash me matching smiles before turning back round.
We begin the lesson with breathing exercises to channel the flow of our internal energy. Qi arts is a meditative movement that blends internal and external manipulation of life energy. Master Tekoa’s voice is light but commanding. I focus on his words to tune out the noises around us—chirruping birds, the rustle of wind as it combs the grasses. This is one of the only classes I enjoy, and I’m grateful to have its calming effect this morning. Unlike most of our other lessons, the skills Master Tekoa teaches us aren’t about precision or performing to a certain standard, but about how to connect to ourselves, to find peace and strength within. It brings back distant memories of my parents practicing taoyin on the porch, limned in predawn light and set in perfect synchrony, their movements a smooth, underwater flow.
While we repeat the sequence of movements he’s been teaching us, Master Tekoa walks around to observe. He usually prefers to hang back, demonstrating adjustments in silence, but when he gets to me, he stops. He stares for a moment before suddenly speaking.
“Fire. So much fire.”
I falter midflow.
“Fire so hot it burns even ice to ashes. Fire like a wave to swallow the world whole.”
The twins turn around, frowning. Master Tekoa’s voice has taken on a rough, grating edge I’ve never heard before. As he stares unblinkingly in my direction, his eyes glaze over, and my stomach gives a kick as I notice that his pupils are expanding, creeping across his eyes to fill them with black, like dark blood spilling from a wound. A chill emanates from his body—and shivers through mine.
“S-something’s wrong,” I say as the other girls turn to look. “I think Master Tekoa’s having some kind of fit.…”
There’s a trill of laughter. “What have you done to him, Nine?” Blue crows from the front of the pavilion. “You just can’t allow men near you, can you? What’s the problem? Don’t tell me you prefer girls.”
Wren is at my side at once. “Shut up, Blue,” she snaps.
Blue blinks. “When did you two become friends?”
“Fire from within her,” Master Tekoa rasps before Wren can retort. The air around him is frozen, and I want to move away from his horrible black stare, but my feet are rooted to the spot. His voice grows louder, gathering pace, his blank expression at odds with the intensity with which he is speaking. “Fire that sears her skin and all she touches. Fire bright enough to blind those who look at her.”
With a dismissive flick of her wrist, Blue laughs. “Well, he can’t be talking about you, then, Nine. You’re not—”
“Red flames in the palace!” roars Master Tekoa, making all of us jolt. “Red flames, kindled from within! On the night of fire, more will come to scorch him!”
There’s a moment of charged silence.
Then he blinks.
The darkness slips from his eyes like honey sliding off a spoon. Though the chill in the air around him disappears, my arms are still pricked with goose bumps. I hug them, staring openmouthed.
“You’re—you’re all out of form,” Master Tekoa says, looking round with dull surprise at our stunned faces.
I clear my throat. “Master,” I start, “are you feeling all right? You were talking about… fire.”
He looks blankly at me before seeming to understand. “Ah. Yes. Qi fire, our internal energy. What you are practicing in these lessons to control.” He steps to the front of the pavilion, the sunlight at his back outlining his edges in gold. “That will be enough for today.”
Wren places a hand on my arm when I start to question him. “There’s no point, Lei. I don’t think he knows what just happened.”
As soon as we leave the pavilion, Zhin addresses us all, looking worried. “We should tell Mistress Eira and Madam Himura. Something really seemed wrong with him.”
Her sister nods.
“Maybe he’s sick?” Mariko suggests.
“Or had some kind of magical fit?” Zhen offers.
Blue rolls her eyes. “Clearly.”
“A spiritual trance is not something to joke about,” Chenna says sharply, shooting Blue a stern look that makes her pout and look away.
“Well, I don’t think we should tell them,” Mariko says. “It’s just another thing for Madam Himura to punish us for.”
“You mean, punish Nine,” Blue retorts. “It was her Master Tekoa was addressing, after all.”
The other girls glance round to where I’m trailing at the back of the group. Though I can tell they don’t like the way she said it, I can also see that they’re not entirely unconvinced by what Blue said.
“Well,” I say, in a voice much more casual than I feel, “at least we know Master Tekoa carries a… flame… for me.”
The twins snort. Even Mariko stifles a laugh, and Blue shoots her a furious look. Only Wren and Chenna don’t laugh.
At least my joke seems to have broken the tension somewhat. Before long, the eeriness of Master Tekoa’s turn starts to drain away in the warmth of the day and the familiar surroundings of Women’s Court as we head back to Paper House. The events at the pavilion start to seem unreal, a strange, shared daydream. Aoki tells everyone about her brother’s sleep-talking—“Once he was convinced I was a giraffe called Arif”—but I’m only half listening.
A memory has come back to me from a few summers ago, when a fortune-teller arrived in our village.
She was an old cat-form demon with ragged fur and blind eyes, filmed over like curdled milk. She set up a booth at the side of the main road, just a simple table with a hearth in its center. Even though I was meant to go straight back to the shop after my errand, I stayed to watch as a young woman from our village knelt down at her table and handed over a fistful of coins. There are many ways in which fortune-tellers divine insight: tea leaves, the lines in a person’s hands or paws, burning paper offerings, the analysis of dreams. This one was an osteomancer. She made the young woman carve her question into a bone before tossing it into the hearth. I remember my shock at the black inklike spill that spread over the cat-woman’s eyes as she drew the bone from the fire, running her clawed hands over it to read the cracks.
I was so spooked I ran all the way home. Some part of me always believed I had imagined it. That the change in her eyes was some trick of the light. But seeing it happen to Master Tekoa, I know now that it was real. It must be what happens when someone falls into a fortune-telling trance.
Despite the sunshine, a shiver runs down my neck. If Master Tekoa’s prediction is right, fire is going to destroy the palace. But what’s even scarier is that it seems he thinks the fire is already burning within—of all people—me.
EIGHTEEN
SLOWLY BUT SURELY, LIFE BLURS BACK into the routine of palace life.
With the King away on official business for over a month—something to do with rebel activity in the South, according to the ru
mors—and no strange happenings after Master Tekoa’s prediction, I lose myself in our steady rhythm of classes and dinners and nightly entertainments. My teachers notice the improvement in my efforts, and Mistress Eira congratulates me about it one day, telling me she’s proud that I used what happened with the King as a turning point. And she’s right. It was a moment of awakening for me.
But not in the way she thinks.
Though it only takes me a couple of weeks to replace the weight I lost during my confinement, it takes me much longer to get back to my normal self—or at least something that passes for normal now. I’m cast in the shadow of that night with the King. The memory of it hovers close, a constant presence at the edge of my consciousness, like moon-shimmer on the surface of a lake.
Even though the King is out of the palace, I get the sensation sometimes that he’s watching me. Yet when I turn around, it’s only to find an empty corridor or the quizzical face of one of the girls.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Wren asks me one afternoon when I stop midconversation on our way to a lesson, looking round my shoulder with the certainty that the King will be there, just behind me, head cocked and a loose grin on his face.
Forcing down a shiver, I keep walking. “Yes. Sure. Never better.”
“Lei.” Her fingers brush my arm. “Be honest with me. You haven’t been right since what happened with the King—”
“Of course not!” I hiss, jerking away. Aoki’s chatting to Chenna a few steps in front of us, and she glances over her shoulder. Lowering my voice, I go on, “I mean, it was awful, Wren. And it’s going to happen again someday. I hate this, this… waiting. I don’t know if I can keep it up.”
Wren nods. “It’s the same for me. But it’s all we can do.”
“Is it?” I reply quietly.
She stiffens, looking away with pressed lips.
I want to ask her how she can stand it. Whether she dreams of freedom the same way I do, in the small of the night, when the darkness is broken only by moon-silver and thoughts of home, and of her and the other girls—the futures we could be having, if only we could escape from the palace. But I swallow my words. I know her answer already, because it is the same thing that holds me back every time I dream of escape.
