“Make peace with our stepmother,” Hasho said again. “She is our mother.”
“Not mine,” I replied, but my words trembled.
I had thought of her as my mother, once. Years ago, I’d been the first to accept Raikama when Father brought her home, and back then, she had been fond of me. I used to follow her everywhere she went—she was so mysterious I wanted to learn everything about her.
“Where is your scar from?” I had asked her one day. “Why won’t you pick a name?”
She’d smiled, patted my head, and straightened the sash around my waist, tying it into a neat, tight bow. “We all have our secrets. One day, Shiori, you’ll have your own.”
Magic. Magic was my secret.
What was hers?
CHAPTER THREE
I hated sewing. Hated the monotony of it, hated the needles, the thread, the stitching, everything. Not to mention, I pricked myself so many times the maids kept having to wrap my fingers until they were thick as dumplings. I almost missed my lessons. Almost.
The days crawled by, slower than the snails that clustered outside the papered window screens. I embroidered crane after crane, spending so much time on them that they began to haunt my dreams. They’d peck at my toes, their cinder-black eyes glittering, then suddenly turn into dragons with pointed teeth and mischievous smiles.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the dragon—and the expression that crossed Raikama’s face when Andahai had mentioned him. Like she wished I had drowned in the lake.
Who knew what went on in my stepmother’s head? Like me, she had little talent for embroidery, butunlikeme, she could sit and sew for hours. Sometimes I’d catch her staring vacantly at the sky. I wondered what she thought about all day.Ifshe had any thoughts.
I ignored her as best as I could, but when I made mistakes in my tapestry, she’d come to me and say, “Your stitches are uneven, Shiori. You’d best redo them.”
Or “That crane is missing an eye. Lady Bushian will notice.”
Bless the Eternal Courts, her remarks never required a response, at least until today. Today she visited me with a strange request:
“The gold sash Lord Yuji gifted you to wear for your betrothal ceremony—do you know where it is?”
I shrugged. “It must have fallen into the lake with me.”
My answer didn’t please Raikama. She didn’t glower or frown, but I could tell from the way her shoulders squared that it wasn’t the answer she’d wanted.
“When you find it, bring it to me.”
I lied that I would. Then she left, and I promptly forgot about the sash.
The morning of the Summer Festival, adults and children alike sauntered along the imperial promenade, clutching kites of every shape and color.
I longed to go. Today was the only day that Andahai let loose, that Benkai wasn’t busy training to be a commander, that Reiji and Hasho weren’t stuck studying with their tutors. Even the twins, Wandei and Yotan—who were different as the sun and moon and always argued about everything—never argued on festival day. They came together to design and construct the most brilliant kite. All seven of us would help, and when we flew it across the sky, it would be the envy of everyone at court.
And all the food I’d miss: rabbit-shaped cookies filled with sweet red beans, skewers of rice cakes stuffed with fresh peaches or melon paste, sugar candies shaped into tigers and bears. How unfair it was that I had to stay inside and sew with Raikama!
Finally, when my stomach couldn’t take it any longer, I worked up the courage to ask: “Stepmother, the festival is beginning. May I go? Please?”
“You may leave when your embroidery is finished.”
I wouldn’t be finished for another month. “It’ll be over by then.”
“Do not sulk, Shiori. It is unbecoming.” My stepmother didn’t look up as her needle swam in and out of the cloth. “We had an agreement with your father.”
I crossed my arms, indignant. I wasn’tsulking.“Don’t you want to go?”
She turned and opened her sewing chest. Inside were hundreds of neatly wrapped balls of thread, yarn, and embroidery floss.
Raikama started putting away her threads. “I have never enjoyed such things. I attend only out of duty.”
