I knock on Aeri’s door. She comes out in a high-necked forest green dress made of lace and satin and a heavy white fur cape, both of which we purchased this morning. She looks stunning, but her head is low and her eyes dart around. Without Royo, she’s nervous, I’m sure. I don’t blame her. I’ve grown accustomed to the safety of having Mikail nearby.
But we are on our own tonight.
“You look lovely,” I say. Her hair is swept up in the fashion of Khitan. It must grow very quickly, as it’s noticeably longer than when we first met.
She smiles. “You always do.”
We go downstairs and hire a private carriage to take us to the armory. In Khitan, the armory is not inside the palace. Instead, it’s a building across Trialga Square. The Khitanese kings are the Trialgas, the same way Yusan has the Baejkins. But Khitan has also had queens. Queen Quilimar is the sixth female ruler in their history.
We are nearly to the summit when the carriage stops. The view is breathtaking, even in the dusky rain. The villas on the hillside are lit up. Below that are the colorful houses of the harbor. And then there’s the vast, dark expanse of the East Sea.
Valets with umbrellas meet every carriage as it arrives, and we are escorted to the portico of the armory. I say thank you in Khitanese, and the valet stares. I’m not sure if it’s my language or my face. My village was close to the border of Khitan, so I learned quite a bit when I was young. Not as much as Mikail or Euyn, but certainly enough to be polite.
We pass through the arched entryway and follow the crowd into the main hall, and my eyes widen. The military headquarters is decked out in gold with gilded weapons hanging all around the walls and golden chandeliers illuminating the space in twinkling light. Even the ceiling is painted with gilded decoration.
There must be pounds and pounds of gold in here, but I suppose that’s what happens when you can create it with the touch of a ring.
In the center of the room hangs the purple flag with the golden eagle of Khitan, and long, linen-covered tables line the walls, creating a wide dancing space in the middle. There is no head table, but directly in front of us is where the general will sit—right in the center of the table facing the entry.
For all its similarities to a lavish banquet in Yusan, the atmosphere is markedly different—I could feel it from the second I stepped in the room. Women are not only attractive decoration here but active participants. They hold court—not just among themselves, but with men. Some wear suits and have their hair cut shorter than Euyn’s. They laugh and talk boldly and help themselves to the passed food and drink.
It’s very odd.
Is this the difference when women can hold their own money and title? Does it matter to this extent? Then again, we are still among the nobility. Who knows what life is like for women of low birth? Khitan is called a land of equals, but some are always more equal than others.
An older man, tall with gray hair, approaches us. He’s Yusanian and wears the decoration of an ambassador with a small red flag hanging from the pocket of his suit jacket and a medal decorating his neck. The medallion is a black snake wrapped around a blade.
“You must be Yunga,” he says, extending his hand. “I am Ambassador Zeolin.”
I smile and curtsey. Yunga was the name Mikail forged for me. “How did you know me?”
“Mikail said to look for the most beautiful woman in the room.” He smiles and his eyes are kind, but he is Yusanian nobility, so appearances are just that. “So thatmustbe you. And who is this?”
“I am Narissa,” Aeri says.
He inclines his head to her as she curtsies, but then his eyes are on me again. “What brings you to Khitan?”
“I was an indenture in Yusan,” I say. “I recently escaped my binds.”
“Ah,” the ambassador says. “I can understand a man being unwilling to let you go, my dear. But you will find the freedom you dream of here. And what about you, Narissa?”
“I’m here to make my fortune,” Aeri says. “One I can own.”
It’s close to the truth, I suppose.
“Very Khitanese thinking.” He sniffs through his pronounced nose. “Well, you arrived just in time for the monsoons. Unfortunate weather, but that does allow you to be here for this banquet with the high society of Quu tonight.”
“And you are at the top as an ambassador.” I stare like I’m in awe and then look away demurely as if he caught me.
He raises his chin higher, puffing out his thin chest. These men can’t resist flattery, no matter how thick. “One of, but outside of the palace no one ranks higher than the general.”
“An army general?” I ask as if I’m confused by the concept. Noblemen like beautiful women to be smart enough to follow conversation but nowhere near as clever as themselves.
“General of the Armed Forces. That is General Vikal in the center behind the main table.” He turns his head because it’s rude to point in any realm. “It is different here than in Yusan. They value their military the most. And they allowwomento serve, if you can believe that.”
I follow his line of sight. I’m not sure what I expected, but the woman in front of us is not it. For one, she is not in a military uniform. Instead, she has on a form-fitting silver dress and a zaybear fur cape fastened by a thick gold chain. She is a little taller than Aeri, which makes her quite tall. I think she’s probably forty years old, maybe a few years younger but battled-hardened. Her dark, curly hair is swept up and likely shoulder-length when it’s down. Her features are Khitanese, which is a mix of the indigenous people of the continent and the descendants of those who came over long ago from the Outer Lands. And there’s probably a touch of Yusanian in her lineage, too, judging by her cheekbones.
“I know… It is odd to have a female general, but that is how they do things here,” Ambassador Zeolin says with a sigh.
