It seemed that Zairena had already sent word of my arrival.
I lifted my chin.Let her try and make my life miserable. I’m not staying long anyway.
Only the head chef, Chiruan, acknowledged me. “If Lady Zairena hadn’t warned us you were a demon, I’d mistake you for a fish,” he grunted, throwing me a washcloth. Short and wide, he had the build of a barrel, the sturdiness of a brick, and the belly of a bear. He was strong, too, and the cloth landed on my arm with a slap. “You reek, girl.”
I sniffed my hands. He was right: Ididsmell.
After I wiped my hands, he tossed me a pouch of rice wrapped in dried reed leaves, again throwing it with force. “Eat quickly, then get to work.”
I retreated to a corner and wolfed down the meal, savoring the bits of salted pork and pickled cabbage. All too soon the rice was gone; my sharp pangs of hunger were only half- satisfied. But there would be no more food until dinner.
My work wasn’t so different from my chores at Mrs. Dainan’s inn: I swept the kitchen and the pantry, washed the dishes, and scrubbed burnt rice off the bottom of the pots. When Chiruan sent me out to fetch wood from the storehouses, I searched the fortress for a way out.
Castle Bushian was one of Kiata’s smallest strongholds—I could walk the entire perimeter in half an hour—but one of the best defended, situated atop a craggy hill. High stone walls surrounded the castle, except on the east, which bordered the Baiyun River. There were towers festooned with archers, and two gates—one on the north side and one on the south—manned by plenty of guards.
Getting out wouldn’t be easy. But surviving the Zhensa in this cold would be even more difficult. Already, frost slicked the surface of my wooden pails.
Winter was here.
One morning, the kitchen was practically empty when I reported to work, but Chiruan was at the stove, steaming a cake over the fire. It smelled heavenly, warm and sweet, a hint of ginger wafting across the room.
“Persimmon cake, Lady Megari’s favorite,” said Chiruan, cutting three slices onto a blue porcelain plate. He set it on a wooden tray, beside a basket of fresh fruits beautifully decorated with a sprig of plum blossoms.
“She’s taken to her bed the past few days, but whenever she requests cake, it’s a sign she’s on the mend. She specifically asked foryou,Fishgirl, to deliver it.”
His tone was devoid of insult or judgment, which surprised me. As did Megari’s request.Me?
“It is not my place to question Lady Megari, only to attend to her wishes. Her room is on the uppermost level of the castle, in the East Mountain wing, left corridor. She should be practicing her music at this hour, so follow the sound of her lute if you become lost.”
Chiruan returned his attention to the iron pots whistling over the fire. Dinner, I presumed.
“Don’t linger,” he said sharply. “This is not a respite from your chores, and if the maids see you on their way back from the orchard, I will not defend you.”
I grabbed the tray, nodding to show I understood.
“Wrap a scarf around your head so the guards don’t see the bowl. They’ll ask fewer questions that way.”
Chiruan’s foresight turned out to be correct. Although the guards inspected my tray of persimmon cake, no one questioned my presence inside the castle.
The halls were narrow, barely wide enough for two to walk side by side, and the paneled walls were wooden and sparse, unlike the gilded doorframes and painted murals in the imperial palace.
As I followed the soft strumming of a moon lute upstairs, a room with open doors caught my eye. Inside were two embroidery frames, a loom, and a spinning wheel. Not unlike Raikama’s old sewing room.
“This way!” Megari exclaimed, peeking out from her room down the hall. “I worried you were lost.”
I hurried inside and set the tray on one of her lacquered tables. Megari watched me inquisitively, her hands clasped behind her back. A gentle flush tinged her cheeks, but her breathing was short and there were shadows under her eyes. I hoped the cake would help her feel better.
“Wait, don’t go,” she said as I turned for the door. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you all week.”
I bowed my head and pointed toward the kitchen building.Chiruan is waiting for me.
“Sit, sit,” she insisted. “It’s an order.”
Megari waited until I sank into one of her silk pillows. I could have fallen asleep then and there, if I hadn’t been so worried that I stank of fish.
She reached for the plumpest fruit in the basket. “Have a persimmon. This year’s crop is the sweetest yet. I would know, since they’re my most favorite fruit. Take some caketoo.”
Thank you.I tucked the persimmon into my pocket, but the cake I wolfed down in three ravenous bites. My stomach growled so loudly I was thankful the curse only penalized my tongue for speaking. Otherwise, my brothers would be long gone.
