“Please allow Lady Sarnai to recover,” I whispered. “For the sake of A’landi.”
Jun and Zaini were there already, preparing the moon-embroidered gown for me to wear tonight. From their cowed silence, I knew Emperor Khanujin had threatened them the same way he’d threatened me. Their lives depended on my success with the shansen.
“My father sought to unleash their powers on Emperor Khanujin,”Lady Sarnai had said,“but…one does not bargain with demons without paying a steep price.”
What had that price been?I wondered. Did it have something to do with the tiger demon I’d seen in the shansen’s place last night when the ghosts came to me?
“I can dress myself,” I said, dismissing Jun and Zaini.
When they left, I lifted the dress of the moon. It was the most serene of the three gowns I had made, its silvery brocade casting a soft sheen over my skin like moonlight shimmering on a quiet pond. Whereas the dress of the sun’s skirt flared like a bell, this one was sleek. The skirt cascaded from my hips in a slim line, like a flute, and the hem brushed against my heels, soft and light as the feathers of a swan.
I took out my magical scissors and cut a deep slit into the skirt. Invisible threads stitched themselves in place as I fashioned a pocket within the inner folds of the skirt.
Then, before I could change my mind, I reached for the dagger I kept hidden against my spine and raised it to my lips.
“Jinn,” I whispered. The secret word that unlocked the power in the dagger. One of Edan’s first names.
I unsheathed the weapon, fingers trembling, and caught my reflection in the gleaming iron blade. But it was the other side of the dagger that I watched.
How harmless it looked. Like gray, unpolished stone—at least to the unknowing eye.
But I knew it wasn’t stone. It was meteorite. The dust of the stars.
I’d seen firsthand what it could do to demons and ghosts. A mere graze of the blade had burned Bandur’s flesh into plumes of smoke.
Holding my breath, I splayed my fingers above the meteorite, hovering there until I gathered enough courage to touch it.
Now,I told myself, lowering my fingers to brush the blade. A silent gasp jumped from my lips as the blade stung my skin. Just a sting. The touch had not burned.
My flesh was still mine. Still human. For now.
As I set the dagger down, slowly the weapon’s glow died away. Then I sheathed the blade and tucked it into the pocket I’d created.
I’d been wearing the dagger because I valued it and didn’t trust leaving it in my room for the emperor’s men to find. But now, if the shansen was not all he seemed, I had a feeling I would actually need it.
I prayed I was wrong.
CHAPTER SIX
Three enormous incense burners blazed in front of the Grand Temple. On this last day of the imperial wedding, the emperor and Lady Sarnai were to make an offering—to ask the gods to bless their union. Monks chanted in ancient A’landan.
“Bow three times to the South,” the priest instructed us, “for the Immortals of the Water and Wind to bless this royal marriage and welcome Her Highness, the Lady Sarnai, as Empress of A’landi, Daughter of Heaven.”
The emperor and I knelt side by side, thick silk cushions under our knees. Once we had finished bowing, a gong signaled for us to change direction. I numbed my mind as the priest gave the new blessing. All I needed to do was get through today. A’landi would be whole again, and I would have done everything I could for my country.
When the ceremony was complete, the emperor and I proceeded to the final wedding banquet. Afterward, there would be a ritual to make sure the marriage was consummated.
I wasn’t planning to stay in the palace long enough for that.
The emperor strode three steps ahead of me, and I followed, my head held high, bearing an enormous phoenix crown with strands of pearls obscuring my face. Whereas the dress of the sun was so brilliant no one could even look at me, the dress of the moon shone gently, its silvery light more radiant than the thousands of lanterns illuminating the palace. Even under the afternoon sun, it was a beacon of splendor, and again, everyone looked at me instead of at the emperor. This time, he was not irked. It was part of his plan.
Wine perfumed the air, sharpened by the pungent aromas of three hundred different dishes: fried fish and braised pork, eight-spiced bean curd, and crispy shrimp fried with pineapples brought over from the Tambu Islands. The best acrobats, dancers, and musicians had come from throughout A’landi, and the afternoon was spent reveling in their talents. I might have enjoyed their performances were I anywhere but here.
When at last the banquet began, the shansen sat in the same seat as before, across from the emperor and me. He laughed and drank with his men, throwing subtle insults at the emperor, but I could feel him watching me. The empty chair on his right would have been Lord Xina’s; I wondered whether everyone truly believed my outburst last night was an act of grief.
Something told me the shansen did not.
“Lady Sarnai,” said one of his warriors, slightly drunk, “your dress outshines the moon. We thought it impossible there could be a gown more beautiful than the one you wore yesterday, but the Jewel of the North has set an example for these Southern court ladies.” He chuckled. “My wife should like to commission your tailor for a dress of her own.”
