But still, how cruel I felt asking them to fight again.
“Their coming here isn’t magic, is it?” I asked Edan worriedly. “I didn’t force them to come, or summon them the way the shansen tried to summon me?”
“No,” he assured me. “The people know a united country is something to hope for, and fight for, with or without an emperor.”
Among the crowd of new arrivals, I spotted a familiar pair of pigtails. A girl’s face came into view: full cheeks, bright round eyes, and a small, round mouth.
“Maia!” Cheeks flushed with excitement, the girl ran toward me, dangling one of my cloth birds by the fiery red thread I’d sewn into its wings to make it fly.
When she dropped the bird into my hand, I held it close. The thread, still warm with magic, tickled the base of my thumb.
“You look better,” she greeted me warmly. She cocked her head at Edan. “Was the Lord Enchanter able to help you?”
For the life of me, I could not remember her name. It teased the tip of my tongue, like silk that kept slipping out of my grasp. I frowned. “We were able to buy some time.”
Understanding flooded her kind eyes, and she grasped my hands, ignoring the feel of sharp nails and warped fingers under my gloves. “It’s me, Maia. Ammi. I’m your friend.”
“Ammi,” I repeated, hugging her. The name did sound familiar. Threads of an escape from the Autumn Palace and a journey across A’landi unspooled in my memory. This girl was important to me, but I couldn’t entirely place why.
Her shoulders relaxed, a smile widening across her full face. She swung a large bundle over her shoulder; she looked warmly dressed, with a quilted vest and a pair of thick woolen trousers.
“I brought extra clothes and supplies—compliments of Master Longhai. I left his shop a few days after you. Once I heard that you were off to fight the shansen, I knew I had to help. I might not be much good with a sword, but I’m handy with a knife and a good fire. Soldiers have to eat.”
“So they do.” I glanced at the hundreds of newly arrived men. “I’m afraid you’ll have your work cut out for you.”
I grabbed one of her bundles and motioned for her to follow me. “Come, I’ll introduce you to my family.”
• • •
Ammi quickly established herself as our head cook. Having women at the camp did miracles for the soldiers’ morale. Even Keton smiled more.
“A happy belly makes a happy man,” Ammi would say. I hoped the high morale would last. We were getting closer to the Spring Palace.
We had marched so long that the soles of Keton’s shoes had become worn, I noticed. He never complained, and I didn’t bring it up as I walked beside him, keeping him company as he pushed Baba in a supply wagon.
“You should stay in the Winter Palace,” I’d tried to convince my father. “It’ll be safer.”
“Where my children go, I go.”
“But—”
“I’m not staying behind,” Baba insisted.
So we brought him along. He mostly slept, still recovering from his time in the shansen’s captivity.
“What do you think will happen to the emperor’s concubines now that he’s dead?” Keton asked, trying to make lighthearted conversation with me.
“Emperor Khanujin did not have any concubines.”
My brother snorted. “Of course he did. All emperors do. I bet he kept the prettiest ones in the Spring Palace. The women in Jappor are famous for their beauty. That’s why they say the capital’s never been conquered, because the ladies will charm A’landi’s enemies into defeat.”
“Even if that story were true, I don’t think their charms will work on the shansen,” I said dryly.
Keton’s tone shifted, becoming darker. “Maybe not.” He fell silent for a moment, before he shook off whatever was bothering him. “You know, I wish battles could be fought with rice pots instead of swords. We’d certainly win if that were the case.”
My brother had never showed much interest in food before. “Why do you think that?”
“Ammi said Jappor is the capital of A’landi’s best food. Nothing like it in the North, she said. She’s quite the cook, your friend.”
