But remaining in Castle Bushian was a means to an end. Once I finished my net, I’d leave. Spring would be here before I knew it, I told myself, knowing full well it was a lie. If there was one thing I understood about the North, it was that the winters here were long.
Very long.
After being welcomed into the fortress with a suitable room of my own, the last thing I expected was to miss my smelly fish cellar.
I had hot water at my disposal, a bronze brazier that kept the room warm, and cupboards full of coats and robes.
I should have been pleased at this turn of events.
But no.
On the first night, once everyone was asleep, I naively opened my satchel, and it was as if I had released demonfire: the starstroke’s flaming light spilled out of the bag and snaked through the cracks between my wooden doors, illuminating the dark, empty halls.
I quickly shut it, breathing hard.
What was I thinking? That no one would see its light? That no one would hear me crushing its thorns? The walls were paper-thin; I could hear Megari practicing the lute even though she was on the other side of the corridor.
Magic burst from the nettles, beams of demonfire and flashes of color from the blood of stars. If anyone found the starstroke, I’d be imprisoned and, most likely, executed.
I’d have to go back to the cellar, I realized grimly.
Sneaking out of the castle was easier than I thought. Pao turned a blind eye when he saw me come and go. I had earned his trust, it appeared. Either that, or he assumed I was leaving to make soup. A good guess, since I always returned with the stench of cod and mackerel.
In the cellar I stayed, long into the night, my fingers working until they were so stiff I couldn’t make a fist. Kiki helped, pecking my cheeks to keep me awake.
My pace was improving. I loosened four strands of starstroke from its armor that night, my best yet. I braided their iridescent threads before setting them carefully back into my satchel. Then I turned to a fifth strand.
Only when the cold had numbed the fiery ache of my hands, and my eyes could not stay open a second longer, did I finally creep back to the castle and drift off to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The next day, the cooks, the maids, the wash boys—everyone who had called me Demonface behind my back—all greeted me warmly. Rai and Kenton welcomed me into the kitchen with a new apron, cleaned and pressed. And at lunch, sweets and skewered meats topped my bowl.
“So it was our Lina who saved young Lord Takkan.”
“Well done, well done.”
“We really thought you were a demon worshipper. Lady Zairena was so convincing….We hope you don’t take offense.”
No, I didn’t take offense. But I gathered their praise and smiles and tucked them in an imaginary pot and shut the lid. Growing up at court had taught me to discern my real friends from those who would desert me if ever my fortunes changed.
Chiruan was the only one who said nothing. He offered me a bowl of pickled cabbage and minced pork over rice, as he did the others, but he was silent until I finished eating.
All too aware of his scrutiny, I rose and returned to my stool in the corner to debone some fish. Chiruan followed.
“Go back to the castle,” he said. “You’re a guest of honor now. What are you still doing here? And handling fish I did not give you permission to touch!”
Paying him little heed, I placed the fish into the bucket by my side and reached for a new one. It was a question I couldn’t answer, not in a gesture or a mime.
Every night, I worked myself to exhaustion, pounding the starstroke. Even when the thorns fell off in fine piles of gray dust, sometimes a few needle-thin barbs would cling to the naked vines, a painful surprise when I grasped them. I would have to pick them out from my fingers before I could finally sleep. And when sleep did claim me, so did the nightmares. Falling cranes with human eyes and human screams. Girls with snake faces. Broken pearls that swallowed up entire kingdoms. Such images haunted my precious rest.
Only in the kitchen was I free of them.
I wouldn’t give it up.
Though he couldn’t see my eyes, Chiruan seemed to understand. He took my fish and passed me a cloth to clean my hands. “You may wash the rice” was all he said.
And so, with that simple task, I began my apprenticeship in his kitchen.
