I leaned into a shadow so he wouldn’t see my hair, and pursed my lips. “There was an official in the shop earlier. He wants Baba to go to the Summer Palace to make clothes for Emperor Khanujin.”
Keton closed his eyes. War had driven out the rebelliousness in my youngest brother, and he looked decades older than his nineteen years. “Baba hasn’t sewn in years. He can’t go.”
“He won’t,” I confirmed. “I’m going.”
Keton pushed himself up with his palms. “Demon’s breath, Maia! Are you crazy? You can’t—”
“I don’t want to hear it.”
“You can’t go,” my brother finished, raising his voice over mine. “You’re a girl.”
“Not anymore.” I touched my hair; then I gritted my teeth. “I’m tired of being told I’m not worthy.”
“It’s not just a matter of being worthy,” Keton said, coughing into his sleeve. “It’s a matter of tradition. Besides, they wouldn’t want a girl taking the emperor’s measurements.”
I blushed in spite of myself. “I’ll go as you, Keton Tamarin.”
“Baba would never agree to this.”
“Baba doesn’t have to know.”
Keton shook his head. “And here I always thought you were the obedient one.” He leaned back with a resigned sigh. “It’s dangerous.”
“Keton, please. I need to do this. For us. For—”
“Thisis exactly why you shouldn’t go,” my brother interrupted. “Stop trying to convince me. If you’re going to act like a boy, you can’t think like a girl. Don’t stare at the floor so much. Look a man in the eyes when you speak, and never hesitate.”
I quickly lifted my gaze. “I’mnottrying to convince you! And Idon’talways hesitate.” Then I looked down again.
Keton groaned.
“Sorry! I can’t help it. It’s habit.”
“You’re never going to pass as a boy,” he said. “You bite your lips and stare at the floor. And when you’re not staring at the floor, you’re staring at the sky.”
I looked up, indignant. “I am not!”
“More of that,” Keton encouraged. “More shouting. Boys are angry and arrogant. They like to be the best at everything.”
“I think that’s just you, Keton.”
“If only I had time to train you.”
“I grew up with the three of you. I know what boys are like.”
“Do you?” Keton frowned. “You’re a village girl, Maia. You’re inexperienced in the ways of the world. You’ve spent your life sewing in the corner of our shop.”
“And now I’ll be spending my days sewing in the back of the palace.”
He made a face, as if that proved his point. “Just try not to talk too much. Don’t draw attention to yourself.” He leaned back, his arms behind his head. “People will see what they want to see.”
The sad wisdom in his voice reminded me of Baba. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly that,” he said. “You sew better than anyone in this world. Focus on that, not on whether you’re a girl or boy.” He propped himself up with his elbows, studying me. “Finlei was right. From the back you really do look like a boy. And with all your freckles, you’re not pale like most girls…Baba lets you spend too much time out in the sun—”
“Someone has to collect the silkworms,” I said irritably.
“You don’t have that many curves, either.” He squinted at me. “And your voice isn’t very melodious. You’ve never been good at music.”
