After the dismissed tailors were gone, I sat on my stool, hugging my arms to my chest.
Behind my wooden screen, my mask of confidence fell apart. Those magical scissors had turned my ruined shawl into one of the most extraordinary garments I had ever made.
I opened my satchel, folded my shawl, and stuffed it on top of Baba’s scissors. They looked so ordinary, their blades so dull they didn’t even glint in the light. I stared at them, bewildered by how tempted I was to use them again—to see what else they could do.
I closed my satchel and kicked it beneath my table.
Only two days ago, I hadn’t believed in magic. I had never seen magic. Now here I was, itching to use those enchanted scissors again.
With them, I would certainly win the trial.
Shouldn’t I be happy? I’d won five hundred jens and proven myself to the other tailors.
No. I’ve proven nothing. I swallowed. Now that I’d won, the tailors would be watching me closely. If someone found out I was using magical scissors, they’d tell Minister Lorsa. Then I’d be investigated…and exposed as a girl.
I won’t use them again, I decided. Not unless I absolutely must.
“Congratulations,” Longhai said, peeking over my screen. “What’s the matter? You don’t look too happy that you won.”
“I am,” I said, mustering a smile. I cleared my throat, and my fingers nervously drummed against my thigh until I clasped my hands together. “I am,” I repeated, “but I was almost sent home. I had no idea Lady Sarnai hated yellow.”
“Anyone else would simply be happy to have won,” Longhai said, chuckling at my distress. “But I understand.” He lowered his voice. “Yindi’s been bribing the maids for information. That’s how he knew.”
It became painfully clear that knowing Lady Sarnai’s preferences was vital to winning the trial. “I have no money for bribery.”
Longhai laughed. “You have five hundred jens now! Besides, you don’t need it, not when you can embroider like that.”
His praise sent a sharp pang of guilt to my conscience.
“But be mindful of what you say,” he went on. “The five sent home today were those speaking ill of Lady Sarnai last night. I doubt it’s a coincidence.”
“I appreciate the warning.”
So, Lady Sarnai had eyes and ears in the hall.
My stomach rumbled, and after Longhai returned to his station, I reached for the porridge sitting on my desk. It was cold by now and had attracted a following of flies, but I ate it anyway.
One of the kitchen maids passed through the hall to pick up our bowls and teacups. She was slightly plump around the waist, with a youthful face and friendly eyes as round as the two loops her black braids made behind her head.
She stacked my teacup atop a tower of cups on her tray. “We placed bets on everyone. I bet on you.”
“Me?” I looked up from my sketchbook. “Why?”
“Because you’re young, and…and…you looked like you’d be talented.” She blushed, and my brows furrowed with confusion. Before I could ask what she meant, she added, “I wasn’t wrong. Your shawl was magnificent.”
“Thank you,” I said, more bitterly than I intended. “I doubt I’ll be so lucky next time.”
“Lady Sarnai’s tastes change like the wind,” the maid said, “or so her servants say.” She leaned close to me, whispering, “But I still think you’ll win.”
I blinked, warmed by her earnestness. It had been a long time since I’d had a friend my own age. “That’s very kind of you.”
“My name’s Ammi. I sew a little myself, but my embroidery has always been clumsy.” She touched my shoulder bashfully. “I’d love to show you sometime—maybe you can help me improve.”
“Um.” Her closeness made me nervous. As tactfully as I could, I inched away from her. “I’d love to, but I’m going to be busy with the trial.”
She smiled. “If you get hungry, come visit the kitchens. The Lord Enchanter himself comes sometimes. He’s always poking about for herbs and spices. Usually the expensive ones.”
I tilted my head, curious. “To make potions?”
“No,” she said with a laugh. “To mask the smell of incense. His quarters are near the palace’s main temple. He says it reeks of ash and smoke.”
I raised a brow. “How interesting. Well, I have no desire to meet the Lord Enchanter.”
“You’ve met him already,” Ammi said. “He accompanies Lady Sarnai everywhere.”
I froze. The tall, thin man was the Lord Enchanter? He’d looked so young. It was hard to imagine he was a hundred years old—maybe even older, according to rumors.
“He’d tell the most unbelievable stories and flirt with all the maids. But since Lady Sarnai’s arrived, he hasn’t come into the kitchen as often.”
I frowned. “Does he really work magic?”
“Yes,” she said. “He can make a grain of rice turn into a pot of porridge, and a bone become a roasted chicken.” Her dark eyes shone. “Or even make a sapling grow into a tree.”
“You’ve seen this?”
“No, but I’ve heard. The Lord Enchanter was away for years during the war, and he doesn’t make a show of his magic as much anymore.”
“Why not?”
She lowered her voice. “The shansen’s daughter thinks magic is of the demons.”
I felt a stab of fear. Now I certainly couldn’t use my scissors: I couldn’t risk being discovered and offending Lady Sarnai.
“What do you think of magic?” Ammi said, leaning close to me again. She really was taking her time stacking my dishes.
Something clicked in my mind, and I recognized the strange way Ammi was acting. She was flirting with me!
My hand went to my collar, which felt suddenly tight. “I…I t-try not to think m-much of it.”
“You’re turning quite red, Master Tamarin,” Ammi said with a giggle. Finally she lifted her tray and turned to go. “If you need anything, be sure to look for me in the kitchens.”
After Ammi left, Longhai and Norbu appeared at my station. “Seems you’ve attracted an admirer. She’s a forward one. Well, I suppose they have to be.”
“What do you mean?”
Longhai shook his flask and made a face. It was empty. “Life in the kitchen isn’t easy,” he replied with a sigh. “Being the wife of a tailor would be a far better life than working in the kitchens.”
“You’re young,” added Norbu. “You should enjoy yourself.”
I looked at him bleakly. “I’m here to sew, not find a…a wife.”
“Then make friends,” Longhai encouraged. “You won’t find many master tailors your age. You should meet more of the palace staff. The servants are younger, and I’m sure the guards would enjoy hearing your war stories.”
I gritted my teeth. I didn’t have any war stories. “Thank you for the advice, Master Longhai, but I prefer my own company right now.”
“A pity,” Longhai said. “We have the rest of the afternoon off, and Norbu’s invited us all for lunch in Niyan.”
“It’s my treat,” Norbu said enticingly. He was in a jolly mood. I supposed I should be too, since I’d won the challenge. And honestly, the thought of a hot, steaming bowl of noodles made my stomach rumble yet again.
I reached for my cane. “All right.”
“Wonderful!” Norbu cried. “Afterward, we’ll head to the bathhouse. Keton, I need to know the secret behind your marvelous embroidery.”
I choked back a cry. “Actually…,” I began. My chest pounded, reminding me why I couldn’t go with five men to the public bath. “Actually, I really shouldn’t go into Niyan today. I…my leg isn’t feeling so well. And…and all those…those stairs.”
“Are you sure?” Norbu asked. “You should celebrate your victory. The healing waters will be good for you. You can rest those tired fingers and toes.”
“I’m sure,” I said firmly. “Have a good time.”
Norbu slapped me hard on the back. “All right then, young Tamarin. We’ll miss you.”
I forced a smile and waved. “Enjoy yourselves.”
My hammering pulse slowed as I watched them leave. Now I had a full day to consider how to stay in the trial without using my scissors, and to learn more about Lady Sarnai.
I would take up Ammi’s invitation to visit the kitchen, I decided. One of the maids had to know something about Lady Sarnai.
On my way to the kitchen I passed a courtyard, where magnolia and peach trees grew around a pond filled with carp and catfish and little frogs that leapt onto the lily pads.
How Baba and my brothers would have loved this pond. We’d had a small one in our garden in Gangsun—Sendo and I would feed the fish every morning, and Finlei and Keton would compete over who could catch more carp with his hands, tossing them back into the water before Baba saw.
The memory made me smile. I knelt by the pond and dipped my fingers into the water. A whiskered catfish swam to nip at my nails, and the tickle in my fingertips made me laugh. What was Baba doing now? And Keton?
How I missed my home by the sea.
I sighed and stood, wiping my wet fingers on my tunic. Across the pond, I spotted the tall, thin man—the Lord Enchanter—watching me. Our eyes met, and to my relief, he turned away.
Up ahead, I saw the glittering gold path that only Emperor Khanujin could walk. It was littered with rosy plum blossoms, meaning he had recently passed this way.
I skirted it carefully, continuing toward the kitchens. But as I looked up—there, behind a magnolia tree, was the emperor!
I nearly dropped to my knees when I saw him, as I’d been taught as a child to do. But since he couldn’t see me, I crouched behind a leafy bush to steal a glimpse of my sovereign.
He was tall and regal, easily the handsomest man I’d ever seen. His hair, tucked under a gold headdress fringed with rubies and pearls, shone like the finest black lacquer, and his eyes radiated with the warmth of midsummer. Yet while he bore the grace and dignity of a king, the strong slope of his shoulders bespoke a fearsome warrior.
All the stories were true, and I felt a bittersweet foolishness now for asking my brothers to draw me a portrait of him all those years ago. No drawing could have done the emperor justice. Even the sun seemed to fall differently upon him, so that he glowed like a god from the heavens.
Pulse quickening, I ventured a step closer. Something strange and beautiful drew me to the emperor—my body resonated with a heat and pleasure that did not feel entirely natural. So entranced was I that I forgot to pay attention to what he was wearing, nor did I see the dark shadow looming behind me—
“It’s a capital crime to stare at the emperor.”
I froze, recognizing the voice. My cheeks burned as I pulled my gaze away from Emperor Khanujin and turned to face the Lord Enchanter.
He’d followed me from the pond, his sleeves neatly folded up to showcase his long, elegant fingers. Unlike the emperor with his soft grace, he was all angles and shadow, the edges of his robe clinging to his thin frame. At least the light wasn’t caught in his eyes this time, so I could see they burned blue, pale as the heart of a flame. Normally, blue was my favorite color—but not on him.
“Close the jaw, xitara,” he said, smirking. “You look as if you’re about to be slaughtered.”
Xitara? Instantly, I snapped up and stepped back onto the path. I wasn’t sure what etiquette the Lord Enchanter deserved, but I wasn’t about to bow after being called a little lamb.
“You’re the one with that girl on the shawl.” He twisted to face me, his lean face widening to fit a grin. “You’re very lucky you won.”
I didn’t like the way he was looking at me—as though he knew my secret.
Then act like you have no secret, I reminded myself.
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” I said dismissively. “My shawl was extraordinary—Lady Sarnai said so herself.”
“So she did,” the Lord Enchanter agreed. His hands moved when he talked—a habit my mother had always told me was rude. “But it was too extraordinary…at least for the first challenge. Lady Sarnai doesn’t want a trial with an obvious winner. She wants to prolong the process. A tip for you, for next time.
“And now everyone knows to be wary of you. Why else do you think she pointed you and Yindi out as the tailors to defeat? Lady Sarnai is cleverer than you think. She’s creating enemies for you.”
The muscles in my jaw stiffened. “Why are you telling me this?”
He shrugged. “Life in the palace is boring now that the war is over. I need something to do, and you intrigued me enough for me to lend a hand.”
“I don’t need your help,” I said, anger simmering inside me now. “A war is fun and games to you, isn’t it? If not for you and the war, my brothers— I would be able to walk without this cane!”
I stormed off, stumbling in my haste to get away.
Forgetting my plan to visit the kitchen, I went back to my room and dumped my satchel out onto my bed, thinking I would mend my pants and shirts so I’d no longer look like a peasant. My magical scissors fell onto the pillow.
There was no humming, no glow this time.
They probably could have cut me an ensemble fit for a prince, but I shrugged off the temptation to use them.
I slid the scissors under my mattress and began to hem my pants the regular way.
As evening fell, I caught sight of a black hawk soaring across the clouds, a gold ring glinting above its talon. Its yellow eyes, bright as the moon, seemed to watch me.
I shut the curtains.