I frowned. “He would make you happy,” I repeated. “If you only let him.”
“What do you know about happiness?” she snapped. “You’re a man. Now that the war is over, you can do what you want. You’ve proven yourself to A’landi. The world is open to you.”
“I’m…I’m a simple tailor.”
“A tailor who’s been invited to sew for the emperor. A girl couldn’t do that. A girl isn’t fit to be anything more than a prize. My father promised he’d never force me to marry. He taught me to hunt and to fight like a man. I was just as good as all my brothers. And now?” Lady Sarnai wrung her hands. “He broke his promise to me. At first I thought it was because the war and magic had blackened his heart, but that is just the way of men. For what is a promise if it’s made to a woman?”
Her words rang so true to me, I almost staggered back.
“I made a promise to my—my sister,” I said, catching myself at the last moment. “That I would win this competition so she could have a better life. It isn’t one I intend to break.”
“We’ll see about that.” Lady Sarnai straightened, gathering her poise. “Leave me.”
I bowed and obeyed.
I couldn’t say my encounter with Lady Sarnai made me like her any more than before. Yes, I had glimpsed a vulnerable side of her, but she was still the cold and heartless daughter of the shansen. Yet somethinghadchanged.
Now I pitied her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After my meeting with Lady Sarnai, I took care not to stray too far from the Hall of Supreme Diligence. I had a feeling she wouldn’t be so forgiving if I ran into her again.
It was alone in the hall that Edan found me working on her jacket. The paper Minister Lorsa had given us was stiff, which was good for painting but cumbersome for the wide, flowing sleeves of my design.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, looking up when Edan’s shadow blocked the early-morning light.
“The emperor’s at his prayers. I thought I’d go for a walk.”
“You’re here to check up on me, aren’t you?” I said, dipping my brush into the pot of gold paint.
“Not just you,” Edan said. “On the others, too.”
“They’re still sleeping.” I tilted my head at the empty wine gourds on Longhai’s table. “They were up late drinking, as usual.”
I swirled my brush and held it to the side of the pot so the excess would drain off. Setting it to the jacket, I swiftly painted a set of leaves patterned on imperial brocade, an embossed fabric with golden weaving.
Edan leaned over me. “You’re quite the artist,” he said approvingly. “Did your brother teach you to paint like this?”
I frowned at him. “You never told me how you knew my brothers died in the war.”
“It’s my business to know things,” he said. For a moment, he looked weary—the way Keton did whenever someone mentioned the war. It made me wonder if Edan had fought beside the emperor.
I drew a ragged breath and turned back to my work, not wanting to expose my grief to Edan. “Shouldn’t you be following Lady Sarnai?”
“Someone’s prickly today,” he said, folding his arms. His demeanor was serene and cool again. “You’ll be pleased to know His Majesty has decided to supervise the contests from now on.”
“Why would I be pleased?” I said, but my heart skipped a beat as I continued painting. I had often wished it were Emperor Khanujin I saw daily, instead of his Lord Enchanter.
My sketchbook suddenly appeared in Edan’s hand, and he flipped through page after page of my drawings of Emperor Khanujin.Designsfor his wardrobe, to be precise, but I’d taken care to draw his face on each.
I jumped to my feet, horrified. “That’s mine! Where did you— Give that back!”
“Drawing portraits of His Majesty in your spare time?” Edan said airily. “It doesn’t surprise me. Every girl in A’landi is besotted with our boy king.”
My face burning, I snatched my sketchbook from him. “Boy king?” I huffed. “He’s older than you.”
“Helooksolder than me,” Edan corrected. “And as you’ve said, looks are often deceiving.”
