To my mortification and to Mistress Parmina’s delight, I found that I had been booked solid for three straight months the day after I had made my debut.
Ula showed me the books she had been working on at my request, not very happily. “I never make mistakes,” she said stiffly. “And if that’s what you’re implying…”
I hastened to mollify her. “Absolutely not. You’ve been Mistress Parmina’s accountant for years, and I trust you. But I’m a new asha. How could I have no free evenings until early winter?”
Ula shrugged. “I only do what the mistress tells me. You should be happy, Lady Tea. Not all asha are requested for as frequently as you have been. At this rate, you’ll be number one for the next few months.”
When entertaining at functions, an asha is charged for every hour that she spends with her guests. The mistresses of the tearooms keep track of the asha who arrive every night as well as the length of time they stay in an official ledger. The next morning, a representative from the asha association visited each tearoom and took these tallies. Accountants like Ula would then note down how much an asha had made that previous night and then send a bill to the cha-khana they visited. The asha-ka then takes a hefty commission after that—more, if they had invested heavily in her, like Mistress Parmina had done with me—and the remainder becomes the asha’s wages.
But unless the asha was away from Ankyo for a lengthy period of time, the asha-ka traditionally held their money for them and managed their tabs with shops in the city, so the latter could charge them for any purchases their asha made. At the end of the month, the association would announce who had earned the most money for their asha-ka, to encourage competition.
I was glad that people took an interest in me—it would go a long way toward paying what I owed the Valerian, and the quicker I could work off the debt, the better—but I was appalled by the idea that I would have no rest for the better part of nearly four months. The only consolation was that my dinners with Prince Kance and Councilor Ludvig were unaffected by my new schedule, Mistress Parmina being clever enough not to distance the Valerian from either noble.
“This is a very good start to your career, Tea,” the old woman said almost dreamily as she looked through Ula’s records. “I don’t see how you can complain.”
“But I’m already overworked! I’m not sure I can juggle my lessons and go to these functions at night and still keep my health! I think I should be scaling back on meeting any more guests after—”
“Oh, really?” Mistress Parmina’s voice took on a flintier edge. “Are you saying that your history lessons are all you need to know about the world? That you are too good to meet with royalty and people of all kinds and learn more about their culture, their kingdoms, through their own words and habits? That you think you would be able to go out into the world and interact with no more than the books you’ve read instead of the people you’ve met? To go to parties may seem like an odd fancy to you, little girl. Oh, I am sure that you will enjoy yourself from time to time—I have seen my share of parties when I was your age and had my fun—but if you think an asha can live by lessons alone, without the support of the powerful kingdoms that surround Kion, then perhaps you should return to your novice lessons until you think otherwise.”
I opened my mouth, closed it.
She smiled at me, a large, gumless grin. “Now go and prepare for your party, and no more back talk.” She browsed through Ula’s books again, a beatific expression on her face. “Didn’t I tell Mykaela that she would be such an asset to the Valerian?” she asked Ula, and I was almost sure she believed her own words.
• • •
It was surprising to find how easily things fell into patterns, how a schedule that had at first overwhelmed me could become a matter of course in just a few weeks. I worried that I would be too exhausted to manage, but I wound up adjusting better than I had thought.
Life also had a way of balancing out. I now met with Instructor Kaa only four times a month for my meditation class. Some of my other lessons had also been scaled back. I still had singing lessons once a week to keep my voice from getting rusty. I was expected to do my own research when it came to the guests I met in the evenings but no longer needed history lessons. My dance classes and fight training remained as grueling as ever, but cutting back on the other lessons helped me focus on them better. I was approaching second tier in combat, and everyone seemed happy at how things were progressing.
Lady Mykaela tired easily, and when she couldn’t teach me as often as she wanted when it came to my rune lessons, Instructor Hami took over. While she couldn’t draw the Dark, she had mentored enough Dark asha to know enough to guide me, and her sense of magic was strong enough that she could pinpoint any mistakes I made.
I wasn’t allowed to take part in Runic exhibitions with the other asha because I couldn’t wield elemental runes, but I could now participate in standard combat sessions with those more skilled than I. My first opponent was a lithe young girl named Tella, who was as deadly as she was pretty. Five seconds into my fight, I found myself knocked to the ground by a well-placed kick that left me stunned for several minutes. I never even saw her move.
“Always strive to do the unexpected,” she told me kindly, extending a hand out to me to help me up.
“I think it’s a bit difficult for me to be unexpectedly half a foot shorter, weigh no more than ninety pounds, and have a mean right sweep,” I said, and she laughed.
Tella was first tier as it turned out and, despite her youthful good looks, also ten years my senior. I could beat most of my other fellow combatants, but I knew almost as soon as my name and hers were paired up that I was in for a hard time. Instructor Hami knew this; she called our names together frequently.
I had the same trouble with Kalen. I received more bruises from him than from all other opponents put together, including Tella, but he still never once offered any word of encouragement and only pointed out my mistakes. He never made small talk and left as soon as our sparring had finished, always leaving me feeling both irritated and useless.
There was one match where I caught him off guard. I was tired and cranky after nearly an hour of nonstop sparring, but he was unrelenting. “Is this the best you can do?” He taunted, delivering a swift blow to my shins, forcing me down on one knee. “You’re not good enough, Tea. You won’t be good enough. You’re only going to get the prince killed.”
He’d never used the prince to insult me before, and that triggered a sudden spurt of rage and, with it, a rush of energy. I ducked to avoid the wooden blade about to strike my shoulders, dove to my left, and threw my sword at him. He was quick enough to deflect the blow but didn’t expect me to tackle him about the knees, sending us both to the floor.
I rolled to my left and scrambled to my feet. He did the same. From across the bamboo mat, we stared at each other.
“I won’t,” I said once I had recovered my breath. “I’ll be good enough.”
He looked at me, and for a moment, I thought he might say something. But he only gestured at me to begin again, and the fight resumed like it had never stopped.
Fox came to watch and often competed in his own matches against other asha and also against a few soldiers of Empress Alyx’s army. I was amazed at his skill, at how quickly he could take down his opponents.
“I need to be strong enough to protect you,” Fox said simply after I had pointed this out. “I knew you weren’t going to like me fighting, especially on your behalf. That’s why I didn’t tell you I joined the army. It’s not just about me owing you my life. It’s about being a brother. You’re not going to cry, are you? Your eyes are getting misty.”
“Shut up,” I said and hugged him. “Your match’s starting. Go beat the crap out of that other guy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I laughed, ignoring the guilt bubbling up. I was keeping secrets from Fox. And though I knew it was for his best interests, I didn’t like it one bit.
• • •
“I promised you information, didn’t I? Let me run through my list. There’s been a nasty spate of sleeping spells in Tresea—it’s gotten hold of a few of the nobility, so I assume it’s not natural, politicking being a cutthroat business everywhere. But that’s not something you’d be interested in, I suppose. There have been sightings of the azi at the Odalian border. The man I got that information from claimed he’d seen it rise from the lake. Hightailed it out of there as fast as he could, considering he’s eighty if he’s a day and stricken with gout.”
We were at one of the smaller rooms of the Snow Pyre, and the quiet Darkness lodged within my head stirred with discomfort. “Is there any way he was mistaken?”
The Heartforger glared at me. “I can read heartsglass better than you.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that the Deathseekers have been looking all over for it—”
The forger cackled. “The average Odalian won’t talk to authority, much less Deathseekers. They’re just as much afraid of them as they are of the azi. Not one for asha and magic, the typical Odalian. Got too many things to hide themselves. More than likely you won’t be believed. Your old asha are as stubborn as they come, and they will never believe that you know better than they do. They dislike me even more to give credence to any news I bring. But your three-headed dragon’s hiding in Lake Strypnyk in Odalia. I’d stake my reputation on it.”