by M K Hutchins
“I saw Osem yesterday, too,” Bane continued. “She called you a rash idiot.”
“I know she’s mad at me.”
“She’s mostly upset that you’re avoiding her. She’s worried.”
“Oh.” I’d thought it would be easier for her not to talk to me. At least while I was still investigating.
“Are you all right?” Bane asked.
Below, the wedding party moved out of the fourth tent. Since the rain had stopped, they gathered on the lawn. Under the sky, where the ancestors could watch—that was the best place for the final morsel. King Alder spoke, Sorrel and Violet before him, though I couldn’t hear the words.
Sorrel was a good chef. He was kind to his betrothed on principle. And he only hated me because he thought I’d poisoned Lady Sulat. If we’d met like we’d planned—as Plum and Sorrel—we would have been happy. As soon as he tasted my cooking, he would have loved me. And I would have loved and appreciated him better than Violet ever could.
“No more brooding over what to do,” I mumbled. Sorrel despised me. And he belonged to someone else. That didn’t make it any easier to forget the joyous vision of gardens, libraries, and a lifetime with someone who loved what I loved. Who might love me.
A pair of servers waited behind the king, each with a tiny bowl containing a masterpiece that combined elements from the four courses into one, harmonious bite—the fifth course.
“Maybe you won’t lose the trial.”
“Oh. Right.” The trial. My life. That seemed like eons from now.
Violet beamed and said something—agreement to marry Sorrel.
Then the King turned to Sorrel.
I felt like I was drowning in rocks. Run. Leave. Say no.
But Sorrel beamed. The King said a few more words, officially marrying them. They fed each other the perfectly balanced bites.
Sorrel was a married man.
“Romantic, isn’t it?” Bane asked.
“No.” I wanted to throw up. I wished I was the real Dami—the girl who broke hearts and noses and laughed because she didn’t care about anyone. Not even her family. If she’d been at this wedding, she would have just enjoyed the free food.
Bane leaned back, shocked. “Nisaat said something about you and him... but I thought she exaggerated.”
“Exaggerated? I only set a table on fire tonight! How quickly do you think rumors inflate?”
“Do you actually care about him?”
A cool wind whipped up from the pond, ruffling Bane’s hair. If this young man did have intentions toward me, as Moss and Osem kept claiming, blunt honesty was the kindest thing I could offer him. Let him despise me and forget about me before he did something as embarrassing as I just had. “Yes. Yes I do. I wish I stood across from him instead of Violet—I’d cut off my right ear to have him.”
Already, Sorrel led Violet away from the party toward their quarters. The high-ranked guests waved politely; a number of servers whooped and called inappropriate things. I ought to be his bride, blushing next to him. And now it was too late.
“Oh,” Bane said. That single syllable was as round and hollow as an empty crock.
Dread crept up my gut. Ancestors preserve me, Osem and Moss were right. I was a naïve country girl. But Bane knew I was going to hang. He wasn’t that stupid.
His brown eyes met mine—wide and vulnerable and yearning. His whole body leaned toward me. Yes, he was that stupid.
My pulse thundered in my throat. If I weren’t Plum, if I weren’t a chef, I might have leaned toward him. I might have inhaled his juniper-and-smoke scent, brushed the hair from his eyes, and figured out just how warm his broad mouth was.
But I was Plum. I was a chef. I wasn’t strong-of-arm, like him. Nana had loved me unconditionally simply because I was her granddaughter, but I’d have to earn a husband’s adoration. Bane wasn’t perceptive of taste-and-smell. He couldn’t appreciate the best part of me. We had no happy future together.
I swallowed, my throat still dry. Suddenly, being blunt seemed cruel. How to explain gently, without hurting him? “I’m... I’m a chef. That’s been my whole life until now—cooking for my family, for the people of Clamsriver. It’s who I am.” It felt good to give him even a sliver of the truth—like peeling off the corner of a scab. “It’s what I’ll always be. Who besides a chef could love me today, tomorrow, forever?”
He studied me for a long moment, his features soft in the moonlight. When he spoke, pity tinged his voice. “You’re more than a birthgift, Dami. You’re a person.”
A person who had lied to him. A person who was about to hang. Bane deserved better than my pale imitation of my sister. I rested my chin on my knees and stared at my toes.
“I can’t watch you sit and mope like this. Over him.” Bane stood. “Can I come see you tomorrow? When you’ve had a chance to think?”
“Of course!” I nearly reached out and clung to his hand. Just because we would make a poor match didn’t mean that I wanted to lose one of the only friendly faces I knew in the palace.
Bane nodded. “Tomorrow then.”
It seemed like that conversation had gone as well as it could have, but as Bane walked away over the lawn, I couldn’t help but feel like all the warmth in my body went with him.
I was helping Poppy change the linens when Lady Sulat returned from the wedding. She hobbled stiffly, flanked by two soldiers. All the moving and sitting must have tired her.
Gingerly, she crawled between the fresh sheets. Her pallor was off—a good whole stock would help. But her voice remained hard and smooth as river stones. “If you’d planned to make a scene, Dami, I might congratulate your ingenuity. A guarded man may still show his face when surprised. But you didn’t plan that incident, did you?”
“No, my Lady.” I stared at the floor, shame burning my face.
“I didn’t think so. But I’m too tired to chastise you for your lack of discretion right now. Your spat gave me exactly what I needed.”
I jerked upright. “You noticed something?”
She nodded.
Hope bloomed in my gut. “Who? Who’s behind this?”
Poppy pulled the blanket over Lady Sulat, then slipped out to retrieve her infant.
Lady Sulat closed her eyes. “I’m not positive, of course. It’s merely a hint. A direction to pursue. Perhaps, once you’ve learned a little discretion, I’ll disclose the name. You’re dismissed.”
Needless to say, I didn’t sleep well. Over and over my half-awake nightmares replayed that gut-sinking moment when the table burst on fire. But I couldn’t forget Lady Sulat’s words, either. She had a hint. A clue. Might I still live?
Even if I’d be living without Sorrel.
I woke, back aching, stomach feeling like a sackful of rocks. Resin was watching my door again—Lady Sulat must have given Moss the evening off while we attended the wedding. I glanced outside. False dawn lit the sky. Lady Sulat wouldn’t need me for some time.
Osem would be up, though. And I had amends to make. Even if I couldn’t win Sorrel or help Lady Sulat with my own trial, I could do that. I should have done it days ago.
Resin followed me without comment. We passed through a handful of gardens and lawns, dew clinging to my sandals. I hugged my arms to my chest.
I caught Osem on her way to the firewood shed. “Care for an extra set of hands?”
“Looks like you’ve brought two.” She glanced at Resin. He remained stoic and silent, as always.
“He’s ornamental. Osem, I’m sorry about our disagreement earlier.”
“You mean you’re sorry I disagreed with you. You still went.”
Dew clung to my sandals, chilling my feet. I fumbled for the right words, the right explanation.
Osem sighed. “I understand why you’re being reckless. There’s not much time. It’s... it’s hard to watch, though.”
That haunted look flickered across her eyes.
“Can I walk with you?” I asked.
She nodded. We linked elbows and headed down
the dark lawn together.
“You’re... planning something else, aren’t you?”
“It’s not stupid though.” I glanced back at Resin. Given that Lady Sulat assigned him to guard me, he probably wouldn’t cause trouble. But I side-stepped the damning details of acknowledging the Hungry Ghost. “Do you think I could use the kitchen hearths to cook tonight?”
“I’ll leave the door cracked. Just don’t let in any ghosts or snakes.”
“I hope that won’t be a problem.” I fully intended to feed the ghost out on the lawn. “Let me cook for you, too.”
Candied hazelnuts. How long had I wanted to make that for her?
“No stealing from the kitchens,” Osem said, raising a half-mocking eyebrow.
“I’ll pay someone to buy ingredients in the marketplace. No worries there.”
We stacked wood into our sacks and headed back to the kitchens. “This afternoon I need to go to the Hall of Records,” I said, “but I could help you scrub crocks this morning. You must be working longer days, now that I’m gone.”
She gave me a sad, crooked smile. “Some other time, Dami. Sorrel will be in soon.”
“The morning after his wedding?” My stomach sank. I couldn’t stay. Not with him here.
“He told Tanoak not to arrange the menu without him.” She peered at me. “The rumors are true, then. Why Sorrel? Does Bane know?”
“Umm...” I didn’t know how to explain. We stepped into the warmth of the kitchen. The familiar smells of polished granite and warm crocks washed over me. I’d missed this place. I’d missed Osem.
“Tonight, you’ll tell me all about it?” she asked.
“Of course.”
We went back for one more load of wood. I’d taken half a step inside to drop off my sack when I spotted Sorrel. I rushed back out. Pressed my back against the wall. I didn’t need another confrontation with him.
One step outside the door, I could still hear his voice.
“What would my beautiful bride like for breakfast?” he asked.
Violet giggled. “I’m happy just being with you!”
Her voice cut me like knives—but at least they hadn’t seen me.
“My darling must keep up her strength. Smoked trout?”
“That sounds amazing!”
Violet’s chipper voice made me gag. I imagined the two of them, standing close, hands on each other’s cheeks.
Osem finished stacking her bag of wood and came for mine. “You should go.”
I nodded. Nothing good could come of staying.
“I’m so glad, so glad,” Sorrel said, “that you accepted my proposal. And then Fir, talking to Father about recommending me for this post... our Ancestors truly smile on us.”
I nearly tripped. Fir brought them here?
Violet. Violet was the woman Fir desperately needed to place in the palace. After Sorrel proposed, he’d gotten rid of Hawak. So he could bring in Sorrel—and her. The fiancée. Fir couldn’t leave her on the servant’s list, not if he was sneaking her in as someone’s betrothed.
“I’m going to go talk with that crazy woman from yesterday,” Violet said. “I don’t want any more problems.”
“Oh, pumpkin, there won’t be.”
“Don’t you worry about me. I’ll be back before you have our breakfast ready.”
My pulse pounded. I shouldn’t confront Violet. Taking this information to Lady Sulat was smarter. Surely Violet expected me to be in her apartments? Would she grow suspicious if I wasn’t?
Poppy’s voice rang from the kitchens. “Lady Sulat’s tray?”
“Oh, that’s over here,” Violet said. “May I walk back with you to Lady Sulat’s?”
I ran, taking a roundabout route so Violet wouldn’t spot me from behind. Resin followed gamely, our sandals churning gravel. Sweat beaded down the back of my neck. But when I turned the hedge to Lady Sulat’s apartments, Violet already stood by the door. Apparently neither she nor Poppy wasted time appreciating the gardens. Poppy and the tray disappeared into the sitting room while the door soldier informed Violet I wasn’t present.
Violet turned and spotted me. Her frown bloomed into a sickly-sweet smile. “Ah! Dear Dami. I wanted a word with you.”
She dug her nails into my wrists and pulled me back around the hedge. Resin frowned, but he didn’t stop her.
“I’m quite embarrassed by you. I thought we made friends the other day.”
I jerked my hand away and rubbed it ruefully.
Violet peered at me. “Why were you out so early?”
Her frivolousness melted away, leaving a calculating stare behind. She was plotting with Fir. Sorrel wasn’t mine, but I still wanted him to be happy. And he’d married a lie, a façade.
Half of me ached to accuse her right here, but I swallowed it. I’d tell Lady Sulat. She’d use the information better than I could.
“Well?” Violet demanded.
I couldn’t tell her I’d been with Osem; I’d approached Lady Sulat’s apartments from the other direction. But why should I answer at all? If I wanted her suspicions to drop, I should show her nothing more than an angry, spurned woman. “You’re a skunk.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re right. Skunks are adorable from a distance. I don’t know what to call you. What’s the saying? A rushed wedding is followed by an early birth?”
She clenched her fists and glared, little wrinkles puckering at the corners of her eyes. “He was grieving over a broken engagement. He insisted on a fast marriage.”
“Ah. I’m sure his bed felt cold and lonely after he got bored of Plum,” I lied, straight-faced.
“Sorrel is the image of virtue! He’d never—”
I laughed. Loud and hard and with all the bitterness knotted tight in my gut. “Maybe you should have insisted on slowing down the wedding. Getting to know his reputation. Maybe if you’re lucky, none of his other lovers will show up. Or did he tell you that you’re special? That he really loves you, that he’ll always be faithful?”
Resin actually blinked. I’m not sure if he was entertained or just shocked.
Somewhere logical in the back of my head, I knew all my vitriol had a goal—presenting myself as oblivious to Violet and Fir. But the cutting lies spilled out with uncanny ease. How could she work with Fir—Fir who’d tried to have a baby killed?
“Plum’s my sister, you know. He whispered plenty of pretty things to her,” I continued. “She disappeared to stay with family right after I came here. Do you know why?”
Violet’s fist shook at her side.
“She’s expecting Sorrel’s child. If she tried to name him as the father, Sorrel promised he’d deny everything. And who would believe Plum? They met in the woods between Westbank and Clamsriver with no witnesses. Sorrel didn’t rush your wedding because he’s heartsick, Violet. He’s been worried, terrified, that someone will discover the truth of his sordid ways and make him marry a yellow-ranked girl. Take responsibility.”
Violet narrowed her eyes. “That’s not right. He told me all about your declaration of love—he’s very honest.”
“No, I said she loved him. I said he should stop this wedding. Plum’s my sister and he betrayed her. Abandoned her!”
Of course I’d never met him before, never touched him. Of course he was justified in marrying someone else—I’d broken the engagement. But it still felt like a betrayal. The best lies are half-truths. I let the raw emotions flood my words.
Violet would have little trouble dismissing me as angry and oblivious after this. “Are you the reason he abandoned her and her child? A better-ranked woman, a more advantageous match?”
Violet spluttered.
“Plum will never marry now. Who would take her? All her chances for a good future are erased.” That last bit, at least, was true.
“I don’t believe you,” Violet said, spine stiffening.
“Fine. Just be careful to keep your eyes half-closed, so you can keep believing me. Enjoy your marriage. I’m sure i
t will be full of mistresses.”
Violet sneered back. “At least I’ll live long enough to see. How many days until your trial? Enjoy your grave, Dami.”
As soon as Violet swept off, my hands shook. Had I said too much? Been too cruel? It seemed like she suspected nothing now, but maybe she hid her expressions well.
Resin followed me up the porch. The door guard silently admitted us.
Lady Sulat occupied one of the chairs in the sitting room. She nursed her child, her breakfast tray growing cold, untouched beside her. A military officer in black sat across from her, clutching an envelope.
“You’re late,” Lady Sulat said, voice edged.
I bowed, anxiety turning the back of my throat bitter. I whispered, “I have something to report.”
“It will wait. Taste, then leave,” she snapped.
I flinched. Where was her cool composure? She’d never shown anger to me before. I tasted the cranberry-drizzled buckwheat and the tea, but not even the over-sweetened drink could wash the bitter from my mouth. “It’s safe. Blue Lady Sulat—”
She cut me off with a knife-like sweep of her hand, eyes never wavering from the envelope.
I slunk outside, trying to swallow. I addressed the door guard, voice low. “How long will she be occupied?”
“The messenger is from the front, with a letter from General Yuin,” he said.
News from her husband—now I understood her exposed anxiety. I pursed my lips. “That doesn’t tell me how long.”
He scowled at me. “She’ll have the messenger read it, question him, then draft a response. Some time.”
“Ah. Umm. Thank you.” I shifted down the stairs. If I just sat here, I’d go mad.
Maybe I could gather more information about Violet in the meantime. Nothing direct, nothing dangerous. I couldn’t afford to waste what time I had. Maybe I’d even learn something that impressed Lady Sulat.
The Hall of Records wouldn’t have anything. But Nisaat, sitting by the gate day after day—she might have heard something. Seen something.
I hurried over the gravel paths, past the butterfly gardens and the plum trees. Resin frowned, as if concerned I was trying to escape. But he followed, silent.
