by M K Hutchins
Moss bowed and left. Resin just stared at me, face perfectly impassive. Unnerving.
I returned to the weeds, trying to forget Resin existed. Perhaps I hadn’t located Fir’’s master because he served someone too powerful to be caught—like King Alder. A man who could love his father and worry over his nation, yet send twelve of his innocent citizens to hang.
But it didn’t matter. Whether I could save myself or not, I wanted the peace of knowing I’d done everything I could to stop Fir’s plots.
The next morning, Poppy fetched more garlic-stuffed pickled cherries for me. Lady Sulat still didn’t allow me to leave until midday. Maybe if I was lucky, I could find Fir coming or going from Lady Egal’s quarters today.
As Resin and I headed down the path, Violet walked toward us, that sickly-sweet smile plastered on her face, her dress accentuating her curves.
After years of living with the real Dami—gorgeous, town-beauty Dami—I thought I was content to be the one people called clever, or skilled, or well-mannered. But how would Sorrel ever see me when he was busy looking at all of her?
“Hello, sir!” Violet called to Resin. “Might you direct me to Dami?”
Resin nodded at me, nearly as lifeless as the gravel under his feet.
It took more self-control that I’d like to admit not to snap at him. Reluctantly, I admitted, “I’m Dami.”
“I’m Violet. Didn’t I see you in the kitchens once? It’s wonderful to meet you!” She gave a quick bow.
Given that she was allowing my heartbroken Sorrel to doom himself to a loveless marriage to a woman who didn’t understand his art, I didn’t return her sentiment.
Violet coughed awkwardly. “I haven’t seen the grounds of the palace yet. I asked Lady Egal, Matron of the Household, for a tour, but she and her servants are busy. She said you’re the newest servant, so you have time to help me.”
Of course Lady Egal would recommend me for extra work. She loathed me.
“I trust I’m no inconvenience to you?”
I’d rather scoop my own eyeballs out with spoons, pickle them, and eat them for supper than spend an afternoon helping my replacement. “I’m busy.”
Or I would be, as soon as I found Fir.
“Lady Sulat told me to accompany you wherever you wished to go,” Resin said—the first words I’d heard out of him. How helpful. “She said not to worry about tasks.”
Violet clapped her hands together. “Splendid!”
My ankle decided to spite me, too—after a morning of rest and the cherries, it barely twinged. I diverted our tour to places I thought Fir might be first. No luck. After that, I took Violet through the gardens as systematically and quickly as I could. Despite my flat monotone, she clasped her hands and praised everything with overly sweet, high-pitched words that, I’m sure, explained the lack of birds in our vicinity. She lingered in the plum orchard, wandering between trees, lips pursed.
I stood at the edge of the path, not hiding my impatience.
Eventually, Violet gave a dramatic sigh. “No. Let’s move on. This place isn’t grand enough.”
I’d take plum trees putting out leaves over fancy flowers any day. We continued, rounding the gravel path until we overlooked the pond where Bane and I had skipped rocks.
“Oooh! How delightful!” Violet cooed. Was she incapable of speaking in a normal voice? She ran down the sloped lawn to the white-pebble shore. She flicked a rock in and giggled. Amateur. “It’s perfect, isn’t it?”
She swayed back and forth, hands clasped in front of her, beaming at me and Resin. If she expected an answer, she’d be disappointed.
“Are you afraid of water?” Violet asked, tilting her head to the side.
I actually missed Moss. If he were here, we could bet over whether or not he could get Violet with his bolas from this far away.
She meandered back up the lawn, looking right, then left, as if inspecting the place. She stopped in front of me. “You don’t... say much. Are you not feeling well?”
“Horrid.”
“Well, come to the kitchens! My Sorrel, he’s very busy, being the Acting Master Chef and all, but if I asked him nicely, I’m sure he’d cook something that would make you feel better!”
If I had to watch her ask him nicely, I’d vomit on my sandals. “No. That’s fine.”
“You can’t be shy! Sorrel’s nice. I promise. We’re getting married, you know.” She sighed wistfully. “Our wedding will be so special.”
I smoothed my black skirt. Certainly that was better than screaming at her. Sorrel was my betrothed. He deserved better than this saccharine bride. We should be cooking and arguing over junipers and rosehips together.
The throb in my ankle returned; I shifted awkwardly, trying to favor my other foot.
“You poor thing. We’ll take you right back to Lady Sulat’s. Are you sure I can’t fetch you anything?” Violet asked.
Maybe I was too harsh on her. Kindness wasn’t a virtue to sneer at, even if it came with silliness in Violet’s case. More pickled garlic-stuffed cherries certainly wouldn’t hurt.
But I still didn’t want to be indebted to her. “I’m fine.”
“Well then, I suppose I’ll let you head back to Lady Sulat’s on your own. Thank you for the tour. This lawn will be the perfect place for our wedding. You’ll come, won’t you?”
My cheeks burned—how could she trick me into helping her with her wedding? “I’m afraid I’ll be quite busy next week.”
“Oh!” Violet pulled up short. “Didn’t you hear? My Sorrel, he’s so very eager to have this wedding as soon as possible. He asked Lady Egal to move it up.”
Nervousness flickered in her eyes, but she smiled through it.
“Tell him to slow down if you’re uncomfortable,” I urged, meaning every word. Telling Sorrel to call it off would be even better.
She laughed and waved her hand, voice a half-octave higher than usual. “Don’t be silly. I want my Sorrel to be happy. Besides, Lady Egal’s a wonder and she’s already arranged everything for tomorrow! Won’t that be lovely?”
Tomorrow. I stared at her, blinking and dizzy like I’d been concussed. I could think of nothing original to say and dully echoed her last word. “Lovely.”
Resin refused to send someone to the marketplace to buy me ingredients without Lady Sulat’s explicit permission. By the time she had a moment to see us, the markets had closed. I couldn’t try anything for the Hungry Ghost tomorrow, either—the kitchens would be bustling for the wedding.
My embroidery needle wandered through the cloth. Poppy, sitting next to me, lined up neat stitch after neat stitch. “Are you feeling well?”
“Yes.” I managed that one word without my voice cracking. Wedding. Tomorrow. This wasn’t what I’d planned. I couldn’t prove my innocence and win Sorrel’s affections in one day.
Moss returned late that evening and soaked in the congratulations of the other soldiers. I tried to match their celebratory smiles. Lady Sulat gave Moss a bolt of cheery, yellow brocade for his granddaughter, then admonished everyone to get some rest.
Finally left to the solitude of my closet-room, I collapsed to my knees. I clenched my hands together. My heart raced as fast as my thoughts.
“Ancestors, why won’t you listen?” I whispered, voice hoarse with emotion. “Haven’t I sacrificed enough for you? Or do you consider me already dead, with the upcoming trial? I’m not dead. I’m here.”
I waited for calm reassurances, for a clear mind and clear thoughts, but nothing came. My legs tingled, numb from kneeling so long. Didn’t my ancestors care if I died young, without descendants? Moss’ joy in his granddaughter hung fresh in my mind. I imagined his wife and daughter-in-law marveling over the yellow brocade, debating whether they should make whole dresses from it or use it, bit by bit over the years, to trim the girl’s clothes. I’d never have such a debate. I’d never stand over a tiny, sleeping form and whisper silent promises of peace, safety, and love.
“I’m Plum.
Remember?” I wished for the luxury of kneeling in our family shrine, or in a redwood circle. But even if I was in a strange closet, Nana couldn’t forget me—she’d held me on the day I was born and loved me every day after. “Why won’t you hear me? I need help. Direction. Don’t you still love me?”
Nothing. My chest clenched so hard I didn’t have air for crying. The darkness pressed tight about me in my tiny closet.
I managed to breathe in and breathe out. Sorrel loved me before he met me simply because of my reputation as a chef. We would have spent our days harvesting greenhouse vegetable together in the morning and reading recipe manuscripts in his father’s library in the afternoons. My future had been beautiful. “Nana, won’t you hear your granddaughter? I’m about to lose everything I’ve ever wanted.”
Something pricked at my chest. For a moment, I thought Nana knelt with me. I smelled her honey-scented skin. Then it decayed into the overpowering rot of a Hungry Ghost.
I gagged, but then the smells vanished.
My hands shook, so I hugged myself tight. Yes, I wanted something else more than Sorrel—I wanted to prevent Nana from becoming a Hungry Ghost. I wanted my parents’ safety. My sister’s, too. I decided that the day I tore up Sorrel’s letter.
“Oh, Nana. I didn’t think I’d have to meet him. To know everything I’d miss.” My eyes stung and my throat felt raw. “And I didn’t think I’d have to meet her. My replacement. Why didn’t you stop Dami from leaving in the first place?”
Fainter now, I smelled honey. Warmth washed through my chest. I love you always, little blossom, the warmth seemed to say.
I burst into sobs.
I missed her. I missed her like I missed cooking. I felt like someone had split open my ribcage. “Nana, I want there to be some world where you’re rocking my baby while Sorrel and I cook breakfast for all of us. I hurt all over just thinking of it.”
Hush, hush, little blossom.
The warmth seemed to stroke my cheek. I found myself laying down, my tears running into my pillow. “But you’re not coming back, and Nana... Nana, is there any way to win Sorrel over?”
Hush, hush, little blossom.
I cried. I don’t know for how long, but I didn’t want to stop because I could smell her. I could feel her near. I didn’t want to sleep. I told Nana everything—about Dami and Fir, Sorrel and Violet, Osem and Bane. About trying to exorcise the Hungry Ghost. I could feel her listening, even if I couldn’t see her.
Nana stayed with me, as patient as she’d been when I was a four-year-old protesting I wasn’t tired. I fell asleep with her warmth next to me.
In the morning, my hands were cold, my room empty.
A steady spring drizzle dampened the morning. If it turned into a vicious lightning storm, Violet would have to postpone her ill-matched wedding.
I tasted Lady Sulat’s breakfast in the sitting room, then Poppy took it inside—our Lady was in the middle of an important meeting. As soon as Poppy disappeared, Moss caught my shoulder.
I tried to hide my puffy eyes, but he didn’t comment on my face. Instead, he handed me a crumpled, folded piece of paper. “This came for you. In the middle of the night.”
Sorrel. Somehow he’d felt that we were meant to be together. That our mutual love of cooking would grow into a happy lifetime of loving each other.
I retreated into the corner and opened the paper. The hasty script read:
Three steps to exorcise a Hungry Ghost created by their own lust for this world. First, a meal, perfectly prepared—one that off-sets their ill habits. Second, the true remorse of the ghost. Third, their confession. A Hungry Ghost created by neglect requires similar things—their favorite food, the true regret of those living where it died, and a formal apology from them.
A list of dates and times followed, with Linaan’s name crossed out at the bottom. Times when Linaan wouldn’t be in the library—times when I could research what to cook for an adulterer or a glutton or a liar. The earliest was tomorrow afternoon. I’d cook everything the manuscripts recommended. Surely something would work. Silently, I thanked Archivist Kochan and tucked the paper into the waist of my skirt.
If it worked, I’d have three remaining days to use whatever information the Hungry Ghost had for me.
But I’d still be at least a day too late to win Sorrel back.
Surely they’d postpone the wedding due to the rain? Surely I’d get a fair chance to reconcile with him?
Poppy returned, sighing. “Lady Sulat’s speaking with Lieutenant-General Behon, but she said not to leave her apartments—she wants to see you afterwards.”
Odd. Outside of confirming that her food was safe to eat, Lady Sulat hardly talked to me.
Poppy began checking the windows for leaks, so I joined her. “The tents they’re setting up are magnificent.”
“Tents?” I asked.
“For the wedding!” Poppy sighed romantically. “Huge and white, like clouds.”
The lump in my throat swelled to the size of an onion. “They’re... setting up? Despite the rain?”
“Um, that’s what the tents are for.” Poppy paused. “Are you well?”
I stared at the windows, running my finger—slow as if I were swimming in molasses—over the seams, feeling for wet spots. My feet ached to run to the kitchens. Now. To tell Sorrel everything. Now. But I had my parents, Nana, and Dami to think of. I swallowed hard. I couldn’t continue this conversation with Poppy. I abruptly turned to Moss. “Who’s Lieutenant-General Behon?”
He sounded familiar.
“The man in charge of Askan-Wod’s defenses. Double-gifted. Agile-of-face and agile-of-hand. The first lends itself to his superb speeches; the second to outstanding archery.”
“Ah.”
The door to the bedroom opened.
Lieutenant-General Behon strode out. He looked like a hundred other men—middle aged, bald, about my height—but he had presence. With a tiny slant of his eyebrow, he made me feel like street refuse. “Blue Lady Sulat is ready to see you.”
He turned and bowed to her. His expression changed completely—a hint of warmth around the mouth, downturned eyes, a relaxed brow. He radiated gentle respect. Agile-of-face indeed. My scowls and smiles weren’t half as expressive.
He left through the sitting room. I strode in and Moss closed the door behind me. The room held me, Lady Sulat, her infant, and her two guards standing in the corner like a pair of potted trees.
Today, Lady Sulat rested in her chair, her long crimson skirt covering her feet. The tiny bundle of a child rested against her chest, breathing steadily in sleep. Between the scores of flowers from her soldiers and the drawn windows, I felt like I’d entered a midnight garden. Rain plinked on the roof.
Lady Sulat’s voice was soft. “I spoke with Moss yesterday.”
I clasped my hands in front of me and stared at the floor. I wished I could make my face as peaceful as Lieutenant-General Behon’s, but I knew nervousness pinched my expression.
“Fir might play at being your enemy to make me trust you, but you’ve never mentioned who stole your money on your journey.”
I swallowed hard, the delicate scent of the azaleas and forget-me-nots drowning my thoughts.
“I now believe, with some confidence, that you are in fact innocent in these plots.”
I looked up. Her face remained composed and elegant, but something had softened. “Thank you, Dami, for acting quickly and saving the life of my child.”
I bowed shakily. “You’re welcome.”
“You would have been safer to leave us alone. Creating an All-of-All... there is no way to pretend you’re not perceptive-of-taste-and-smell. You placed yourself in danger. Why?”
The tiny child shifted, peeped a tiny sound. Lady Sulat rubbed his back. She held a precious, innocent life.
My throat felt too small, like I’d tried to swallow a radish. “I couldn’t let a baby die.”
“You have no relation to me. No reason to care about the fate of this child.�
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“None? He’s... he’s a child. And I could save him. Do I need any other reason?”
Lady Sulat actually smiled in that dimly-lit room. “You have a soldier’s heart.”
I tilted my head to the side. “I... don’t understand.”
“Being a soldier is about sacrifice. All of them give up comfort. Some will give up an arm. Some will give their life. They never know when they begin what their sacrifice will be. But there are people—a nation—to protect. You chose to save this child without knowing what consequences would follow.”
“Ah. Thank you, then.” It sounded a lot like the reasons Bane chose to help me. But Fir’s brothers went to war hoping to earn rank. Dami wanted to be important. Not all soldiers fought out of a desire to protect. I supposed whatever their reasons, they still all sacrificed.
I wanted to think that Lady Sulat, with all her loyal soldiers, did what she did for the right reasons. She sipped her mint-and-nettle tea from her glazed cup and studied me.
I glanced at her, then away. At my feet, then at her guards. Still, she said nothing. My palms turned clammy. “You want to know why I didn’t say I’m perceptive-of-taste-and-smell on my application, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
I bit my lip. After the things she’d done for Osem and Bane, after what she’d done for me, I believed her a good person. But a good person who knew the truth would hang me and my whole family.
“But,” Lady Sulat continued, “I haven’t asked. If I did, would you give me the untainted truth?”
I looked down. “No.”
“Then I won’t ask.” She set her teacup aside. “I don’t like to have lies between me and those on my staff.”
“You’d rather have secrets?” I frowned, confused.
“Everyone has secrets.” The way she said it, it sounded like she knew most of them, too. Her eyes remained calm. If she wanted to know the truth of my past, how long would it take her to figure out?
“Someone poisoned me,” she continued. “There are always plots in the Redwood Palace and in the capital, but they are usually of a less direct nature. I, unfortunately, do not know who orchestrated this.”
