Gray light flickered over Emperor Khanujin’s face as the guards opened the door. The gold trim of his robes glittered against the bleak cell walls.
“Your Majesty,” I croaked, forcing my battered body into a bow. My mouth was dry, and I must have smelled awful. I dared not look up at him.
His voice was hard. “Master Tamarin, you find yourself in the unfortunate position of having lied to me. A capital offense.”
I hung my head. I’d known from the beginning what would happen if I was caught and found out. I had to be strong.
“You fooled Lady Sarnai into thinking you were your father’s son. You are not Keton Tamarin.”
“No, Your Majesty.” I stared at my hands. “My name is Maia. I am the youngest child of Kalsang Tamarin.”
“His daughter,” the emperor murmured. “Yes, it makes sense now. I always thought there was something different about you. Perhaps it was your eyes.” He stepped forward, into a stripe of light. “They don’t belong to a boy who fought in my war.”
Daylight shimmered over the pearl and ruby beads tinkling down the emperor’s headdress as he cocked his head to one side, his gaze settling on my bloodied rags. “Given your lashing, I hope you’ll still be able to sew.”
He held out my scissors. They were dull even in the light—a pair of ordinary shears, or so it seemed. I held my breath.
“My Lord Enchanter said you are able to wield limited magic,” he said. “Is this true?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
He touched my chin and lifted it. A little thrill coursed through me, making me draw in a sharp breath. I looked up into his eyes in surprise.
There I was, ensnared again by the emperor’s mysterious magnificence. Even in the dungeon, he was radiant—his touch was enough to make me forget my pain, my shame. My fear.
“A pity you did not tell me earlier,” Emperor Khanujin murmured. “Such a talent is rare, especially in a girl.” He brushed his hand to the side of my lips, and I thought I might faint from the tenderness of it. Then he withdrew his hand, but our eyes were still locked.
“You should be hanged. But—” He paused. “But you have a gift I need. So I will commute the sentence, for now.”
I tilted my chin up. “Sire?”
“You will reassume your brother’s identity. The imperial tailor’s position is closed to women, and must remain so. Edan will make everyone forget your deception. But I will remember.”
I swallowed, nodding in spite of my confusion.
“The future of A’landi depends on my marriage to the shansen’s daughter. Whatever she requests of you, you will do. You live now only because of your talent with these scissors.” The emperor forced them into my hand. “Fail me, and youwillbe hanged. As will your father and brother. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I whispered.
I was in a daze—I couldn’t sort out my thoughts. What would I have to do for Lady Sarnai that was so important the emperor was going to spare me?
But my tongue could not form the proper words in Emperor Khanujin’s presence. Only when he was out of sight was his spell broken.
PART TWO
The Journey
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Being named the imperial tailor should have been one of the happiest moments of my life, but my bargain with the emperor cast a cloud over my victory. I had to please Lady Sarnai. Or else Baba and Keton would die.
I wasn’t looking forward to working with the shansen’s daughter. Then again, she’d already made me craft shoes out of glass, jackets out of paper—and I’d survived.
How bad could another dress be?
My heart beat wildly as I approached the Great Hall of Wonders. The largest audience chamber in the Summer Palace, it spanned a wide courtyard and was several stories tall, the stairs carved with statues of golden birds, elephants, and tigers. Inside were mosaic walls (a gift from A’landi’s friends in Samaran), brilliant vermillion carpets that stretched as far as my eyes could see, windows that glowed with diffused sunlight, and three prominently displayed jade sculptures of the goddess Amana.
Edan cleared his throat, appearing behind me. “I’m happy to see you’re out of that vile place.”
