“Hmph,” Edan said. Brusquely, he took my hand and studied it. “Not bad. Healing works best directly after the injury is sustained, you see. Once the blood and bones settle in the wrong place, it’s difficult to convince them to return.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means enchantments are usually only temporary. Which is why I’ll have to watch over your hand very carefully.”
I cleared my throat, suddenly made uncomfortable by Edan’s attention, and put on my most businesslike voice. “I want to repay you for healing me. I don’t have much money, but—”
He let out a short laugh. “Save your jens. Enchanters have little need for money, or anything else. I don’t need any payment.”
“What about help mending?” I persisted. I gestured at his clothes. “Or a new garment that’s a bit more colorful than the black you always wear.”
“A new cloak could be tempting,” he mused. “Though, come to think of it, a favor from you might prove useful one day, especially given you’ve those scissors. I’ll think on it, Maia Tamarin. Thank you.”
His long fingers brushed the back of my injured hand, wrapping bandages over me. My stomach swooped from the intimacy of it, and when he was done, I drew my hand back.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
Edan merely smiled. For the first time, I wished he would keep talking. This silence felt heavy, awkward. “Finish your tea.”
I hesitated.
“Toads and turds, girl, it’s not poison. Drink the whole thing.”
I gulped down the rest of the tea and wiped my mouth on my sleeve. “When will I be able to sew again?”
Edan sat on the stool beside me. “You should be fine in a few days. Take it easy for now.”
“Can’t.” I flexed my fingers. My bones and muscles were in place, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. “I need to win.”
“And why do you need to win so badly?” Edan asked.
“For my family,” I said. “Times have been hard.”
“Ah, so it’s not for yourself?”
“A little for myself, too,” I admitted.
“If you’re worried about the pain, you do have magic scissors.”
I frowned. “I want to win without magic.”
“I don’t see why that’s so important to you,” said Edan.
“It isn’t fair to the others,” I replied. “Or to me. I didn’t spend years learning to be a tailor so I could have my work done for me by magic.”
“Don’t be foolish. If it makes you feel better, Norbu is working magic too.”
“What?” The muscles in my throat tightened. “How?”
“You’ll find everyone in high places uses a smidgeon of magic every now and then. Even Emperor Khanujin’s head chef. Most delectable duck you’ll ever taste.” Edan smacked his lips. “Don’t close your fist. It’ll leave scars.”
I opened up my hand again. I wished he would take a step back. He was too close. I set aside my cup. “That didn’t answer my question.”
“Didn’t it?” His playful eyes flickered blue—blue as the ocean in Port Kamalan. Deep and clear.
Edan watched me, expectantly awaiting my reply. I flushed and pretended to clutch my head. “What did you give me?”
“It’s mostly something to numb the pain.”
“Mostly?” I repeated.
With a grin, he leaned back, watching my face ease as the pain subsided, minute by minute. Then he picked up my cup, studying the leaves inside. “Is Maia your birth name?”
“It is.”
“I’m not sure it suits you.”
I twisted my lips tightly. “It means obedient.”
He set down the cup. “Which is why I said I’m not sure it suits you,” he said. “You have a remarkable journey ahead of you, Maia. I can see it in your tea leaves.”
As usual, it was difficult for me to tell whether Edan was playing with me. “I need to get back,” I said thickly. “There’s only one more day for this challenge, and given the fire…”
The truth was, I didn’t want to stay in Edan’s chambers any longer. I was growing all too aware of the mysterious heat rising to my neck.
“Anxious about your jacket?” Edan said. “Your scissors would finish the job in an hour.”
I peeled myself off the bench, stretching my legs over an expensive-looking carpet. “Will you stop badgering me about the scissors? I don’t want to use them.”
Edan laughed and clapped at me. “I have to say, being a boy suits you.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. He was right, I realized. As a girl, I would never have talked back to the Lord Enchanter. Would I? Or was it Edan who brought out this boldness in me? I suspected he provoked me on purpose. That he enjoyed it.
“Your skill is greater than the magic in the scissors,” Edan said. Something about his expression softened, as if he respected my decision. “But if you want to win for your family, you’ll need the scissors. If you want to win against Norbu, you’ll need the scissors.”
“How does he use magic?”
Edan stifled a yawn. “Don’t worry about that for now.”
“How can I not?” I said, wincing as I tried to curl my newly healed fingers. Now that the fogginess in my head was clearing, I couldn’t stop thinking about how calmly Norbu had broken my hand. As if he’d done such a thing before.
I glanced about me, only now noticing my surroundings. Books everywhere, neatly ordered on their shelves, and scrolls that were labeled and tied with different-colored cords. Pockets of dried herbs and jasmine to mask the faint smell of incense that wafted in from outside. There was also a dagger with a silvery sheath, a thin wooden flute, and a painted horse figurine that looked like a child’s toy.
I reached out with my good hand for one of the books. “Is this your room?”
“Yes, while I’m here.” Edan yawned. “Stop being nosy, now. You should sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Well, I am. Sleep. It’ll help your hand recover.”
I started to protest, but he touched my forehead, and the world folded into darkness.
* * *
• • •
Norbu was not pleased to see me back in the Hall of Supreme Diligence, but he hid it well enough. He was there with the others, cleaning up the mess from the fire. His table had been burned, but he didn’t look half as troubled as Longhai and Yindi—both had dark shadows under their eyes.
“Back so soon from the infirmary?” Norbu said coolly. “We worried you’d died.” He glanced at my hand and noted the missing cane. “A broken hand to go with your broken leg?”
“You’re the one who broke it,” I retorted, appalled by the man’s audacity.
“Me?” Norbu scoffed. “I was asleep in my bed the entire time. Ask the others.”
“I saw you,” I hissed. “You broke my hand.”
“You’ve a vivid imagination, young Tamarin.” He laughed, but I’d heard the edge in his tone as he discredited me. “Come, let me walk you to your stat—”
I pushed his hand away and started for my table. Behind Norbu, Longhai passed me a sympathetic look, but he didn’t speak up.
I couldn’t blame him. Norbu was a famous tailor and a powerful man; I was no one. Except for Edan, who would believe that he’d broken my hand? Still, now I knew Norbu was using magic. It didn’t give me power over him, but it made me determined to beat him.
Norbu called after me, “I take it you are ambidextrous.”
I ignored him, sifting through the remains of my station. A fallen Sage had smashed my wooden screen, but my loom was intact. My embroidery frame was ruined.
I bent to retrieve my cane. The fire had singed its wood, but it was still usable. Leaning on its familiar support, I picked up one of my spools, still wa
rm to the touch. Edan had said it would take time for my hand to heal, but even holding a spool of thread was painful. Using my good hand, I bundled together the few things that had survived.
“Longhai and Yindi found their jackets outside,” Norbu said. He’d followed me, of course. “And yours. Some good soul must have tried to save them.”
“It’s a good thing you put your jacket aside, Norbu,” I said through my teeth. “Otherwise, all your hard work might have been ruined in the fire.”
“The gods watch over me,” Norbu said, pressing his hands together. “I am very grateful.”
I snorted loudly enough for him to hear. “You sabotaged us.”
Norbu straightened, looking shocked. “Excuse me?”
“You started the fire,” I said. “I heard you outside—”
“I think it more likely you started the fire, Master Tamarin,” Norbu interrupted. “You were the only one working late, after all. And your jacket is practically unscathed.”
“Me?” I nearly shouted. “You—”
Longhai touched my shoulder and shook his head.
“First you accuse me of breaking your hand, now of starting the fire.” Norbu sighed. “I know you must be angry, young Tamarin, but that does not give you the right to slander my name. I will forgive you this time, since the night has taken its toll on everyone.” He paused. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to work.”
With that, he left me alone with Yindi and Longhai.
“I’m sorry,” I said, drawing a sharp breath when I saw how badly burnt their jackets were. My efforts to save them had been in vain. “I tried to—” I stopped, startled by the sound of Yindi angrily tearing his jacket in half.
Longhai barely flinched. Defeat stung his eyes.
“Don’t,” I said, putting my hands over Longhai’s jacket before he, too, gave up. “You still have half the night.”
“I know when to bow out gracefully,” he replied. “It’s something you learn with age.”
“Norbu started the fire,” I whispered. “I know it. You can’t let him win.”
Longhai’s wide shoulders fell. “I already knew it was him.”
My brows furrowed. “How?”
“His clothes reeked of smoke even though he said he’d been nowhere near,” Longhai said. He swept a pile of ash with his foot. “How did you know?”
I thought about the hawk’s piercing cry—how it had sounded like a warning. But who would believe me if I told them that?
I coughed from the smoke, covering my mouth with my sleeve. “I’d gone out to get fresh air, then I saw the smoke. I rushed in to get your jackets…and I saw Norbu just outside the hall.”
“I’m going to admit defeat. Yindi will too.” Longhai eyed my bandaged hand. “And you should as well.”
“You can’t give up without trying,” I implored him. “Maybe Emperor Khanujin will postpone the trial. You can’t let Norbu win.”
“Norbu is a man with two faces,” Longhai said. “I thought he had changed, but he is as ruthless as before. Do you know how Master Huan died, Keton?”
I shook my head.
“The servants found him drowned in the river just outside Niyan. Everyone assumed he fell into the river because he was drunk.” He hesitated, and the grooves on his face deepened. “But I knew Master Huan. He never drank, not while he was the imperial tailor. He was poisoned.”
I caught my breath. “How?”
“I don’t know,” Longhai said. “But Norbu was the last man seen with him.”
He sighed, and I realized I had misjudged his friendship with Norbu.
“I’ve been trying to get it out of him the past few weeks, but the sly dog won’t talk.” He turned to me. “You’ll learn that certain things aren’t worth the trouble. I have my business and my family, and I will not risk my reputation for the sake of any contest. And you—you are young. Come with me and become my apprentice. You could make a good name for yourself. But you’ll have no future if Norbu does that to your hand again.”
His offer was tempting, but I hung back.
“I’m staying,” I said firmly. “I can’t let him win.”
“Then Amana be with you.” He gripped my shoulder. “May the Sages give you the strength to win.”
Yindi had been quiet throughout our exchange, but now he walked up to us. His eyes were wide and wild. “The fire is a sign from the gods to leave. Nothing good will come of this wedding.”
“Norbu made that fire, you fool,” said Longhai. “And Norbu has played us all.”
“No,” Yindi said. “The shansen is playing us all. There are demon forces behind him. And once he brings them to A’landi, it will be too late.”
“You’ve been listening to too many soldiers talk.”
“Why do you say the shansen has demons?” I asked. “Doesn’t he hate magic, like his daughter?”
“Lies.” Yindi sniffed. “How can he hate what gives him power? Once the shansen places his daughter on the throne, he will have the emperor killed, just as he had his father and brother murdered by demons. Then he will steal his Lord Enchanter for himself. Just you wait and see.”
A chill swept over me, but Longhai dismissed Yindi’s warning.
“Enough of this,” he said. “You are upset. We all are. But the palace has eyes and ears, and you are ranting like a mad fool. Leave now with dignity.”
Yindi glared at him, and at me. “Just you wait and see,” he repeated, directing the warning at me. Then he left without another word.
Longhai lingered, his round, jolly face the gravest I’d ever seen it. “Good luck to you, Master Tamarin. May you have all the prosperity and happiness that you deserve. Look for me if you’re ever in Bansai.”
I bowed my head. Then Longhai, too, was gone.
Turning to the empty hall, I gathered my jacket and what was left of my materials. I had only a few precious hours before Lady Sarnai would appear with Emperor Khanujin to judge our creations.
It had always been Norbu. I saw that now. Norbu who had ruined my shawl, Norbu who’d taken the other tailors out drinking so they couldn’t work as hard, Norbu who had started the fire and locked me in the hall. Norbu who had broken my hand.
If not for Edan’s help, Norbu would have won the trial.
Gods help me, as long as I could sew, that was not going to happen.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As soon as I saw Norbu’s jacket, I knew I had no chance.
It was magnificent. Sleeveless and daring. The collar was made of snow-white swan feathers, and the skirt rippled with pearls and ermine trimming fit for an empress.
Even Lady Sarnai was impressed. She showed little sign of emotion at the news that the Hall of Supreme Diligence had burned, forcing two tailors to resign. But when she saw Norbu’s jacket, she actually smiled.
My heart sank. My only ally, Edan, wasn’t here. Only now did I realize how much I had relied on his presence at these challenges.
I’d worked all night after Longhai and Yindi left, but because of my hand I’d had to forgo many of the details to finish in time. I’d planned to add lace to the neckline and sleeves and sew golden buttons to match the gilded leaves I’d painstakingly drawn over the violet paint to make the paper look like brocade. Now, seeing Norbu’s feathers and pearls and fur, I realized my design was far too plain.
Lady Sarnai fluttered her fan, pretending to think. I simmered with agitation as I waited. I already knew whom she would choose, even though I couldn’t bear to hear the words.
“Master Norbu’s jacket is the superior one in this challenge,” she finally said, confirming my fears. Lorsa started for me, but Lady Sarnai raised her fan. “However, given the fire, another challenge may be necessary for me to make a proper decision.”
I stole a glance at Emperor Khanujin, certain he’d be furious w
ith the shansen’s daughter for trying again to postpone the wedding. To my surprise, he nodded. “Very well. There will be one final challenge. But I will deliver it.”
Lady Sarnai’s eyes narrowed. “Your Majesty, you left the selection of the tailor to me, did you not?”
“I did,” replied Emperor Khanujin, “but paper jackets and glass shoes are not indicative of either tailor’s true talent.” He waited, as if daring Lady Sarnai to object. When she didn’t, he addressed Norbu and me: “No rules this time. Simply craft something for Lady Sarnai to the best of your ability. Something meaningful to you, that captures her beauty. Have it ready in a week’s time.”
I bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Norbu echoed my words, smiling.
For the first time in my life, I wanted to spit at someone. If only the emperor hadn’t been around, I really might have.
“What shall we do with the jackets?” Minister Lorsa asked once Emperor Khanujin had left.
“Ask Master Norbu,” Lady Sarnai said.
Norbu bared his teeth, his smile widening. “It would greatly honor me if mine was burned at the temple.”
“Very well,” Lady Sarnai said. “Since the emperor is so dedicated to visiting the temple and praying to his heavenly ancestors, I’m sure they will welcome the gift.”
Bile rose in my throat. Edan had to be right about Norbu using magic; no tailor in his right mind would offer to destroy such a jacket unless he had something to hide. Much as it pained me, I bowed. “Please burn mine, too, Your Highness.”
My voice nearly came out as a whisper. All my hard work, burned! And to think I’d risked my life to save this jacket from the fire. I couldn’t bear the irony of it.
I watched the servants take away my jacket, and after Lady Sarnai exited the room, Lorsa approached me. His tone was dismissive, as if I’d already lost. “Her Highness wishes you to take her measurements. Meet her in the Orchid Pavilion.”
Now? Dread unfolded in the pit of my stomach, but I nodded.
* * *
• • •
The Orchid Pavilion was in the heart of the Summer Palace, surrounded by shady willow trees, a medley of birds in gilded cages, a spectacular garden, and a courtyard of royal apartments where the shansen’s daughter resided.
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