At this rate, we wouldn’t be able to camp much longer. The cold wouldn’t kill me, but Ammi…she would do better with a roof over her head and a proper fire.
Crouching beside the creek, I cracked the ice with a branch and washed my face, trying to shock some life into my tired eyes. Once I’d filled our canteens, my freezing fingers fumbled into my pouch for the mirror of truth. My reflection glimpsed me wearily, and I set the mirror against the bank’s damp soil.
“Edan?” I called. The glass rippled with the sound of my voice. “Edan?”
Nothing.
My heart sank. Every morning, I’d tried to reach him. Always unsuccessfully.
“If you can hear me,” I whispered, “I’m not coming to the Temple of Nandun. I’m…I’m going to Lapzur instead.” My throat ached, and I forced my next words to sound firm. “Don’t follow me, Edan. Stay where you are.”
I echoed myself, “Stay where you are.”
Fresh ice glittered across the mirror glass. My shoulders slumping, I wiped it clean with my knuckles, then slipped the mirror back into my pouch. For days, I’d heard nothing from Edan. I only hoped he wasn’t still waiting for me, and that I’d have a chance to tell him—even if only in the mirror—that I was returning to Lapzur alone.
Back at our camp, Ammi huddled beside the remains of our fire, shivering. How thin she’d grown in these last few days.
“Out for water again?”
I felt a flicker of guilt as I passed her a water canteen, my daily excuse for my disappearances every morning.
Seeing her teeth chatter as she drank, I made up my mind. “We’ll stay in an inn tonight.”
“But the shansen is looking for you. And so are the emperor’s men.”
“If we stay out here, you’ll freeze.”
I’d meant to say we’d freeze, but the words came out wrong. Far too honest. Luckily, Ammi didn’t catch it.
“But what if they—”
“We’ll be careful,” I rushed to add. I couldn’t say what truly worried me about staying in the villages. Not that someone might recognize me as Maia Tamarin, but that my demon eyes might reappear and give me away for what I was becoming.
A monster.
* * *
• • •
Disguised as traveling brothers, we found a suitable inn along a forgotten spur off the Road. Centuries ago, the town might have been a bustling oasis for weary travelers, but if so, it’d shrunk into a small village since then. Inside, several men were slurping noodles with hot oil, and others drank and gambled with tiles. Business was healthy enough that the innkeeper barely glanced at us when we paid for our lodging.
Our tiny room had two moth-bitten cots beside the window, cobwebs slung across the corners, a lone candle on a rickety table, and a pot of incense for prayer. The ceiling creaked every time a loose tile on the roof rattled, but no wind leaked in through the window cracks, and we had a kettle full of hot water.
This was luxury compared to our tent.
“There’s a peddler selling fruits and steamed buns on the street,” Ammi said, glancing out the window. “It’ll be cheaper to buy from him than to eat at the inn. Do you want anything?”
I peeked outside too. Behind the peddler, someone wheeled another cart, selling honeycomb cookies and peanut cakes. My stomach grumbled with a familiar longing for something sweet.
“Maybe a honeycomb cookie if you have spare change left over,” I suggested.
The hint of a smile lifted Ammi’s lips. “You like honeycomb cookies? I like them too.” Then her smile vanished, and her brow furrowed.
“What is it?” I asked.
“All the food I took from the palace is gone. We have enough money for the room and dinner tonight, but…” Her voice faltered. “If you made something, I could sell it. Nothing fancy. A simple handkerchief might be enough.”
Since making His Majesty’s cloak, I had barely touched a needle. I was afraid my fingers had forgotten how to sew. I’d never gone more than a few days without them itching to work. I bit my lip. “I didn’t bring any—”
“Use this,” she said, pushing a handful of red silk cloths into my hand. The color was washed out from the storm, but I recognized them as napkins from the wedding banquet.
A flush deepened Ammi’s cheeks, as if I had accused her. “The maids steal every now and then. There’s a whole black market for items from the palace. I’ve never taken anything before. Never. Except for these and the food we needed for our journey. Besides, His Majesty owes us ten thousand jens for our help finding Lady Sarnai….”
Her voice trailed off, and I knew we were both thinking the same thing: that it was money we’d likely never see, given we’d aided Sarnai’s escape from the Autumn Palace.
“I wasn’t rebuking you,” I said. “I’m…impressed.”
“Oh.” She reached into her pocket and produced three thin spools of thread and a needle. “I asked the innkeeper for these.”
The color was a dull red and the thread coarse, clearly meant to be used for mending. It would have to do.
When she left, I unwound the thread from the spools, ignoring the scissors throbbing at my hip. They yearned to work again.
“Not now,” I murmured to them. It had been so long since I’d sewn without magic. I needed this task more than my scissors did.
I picked up the needle, rolling it between my thumb and first finger. The two weeks I’d slept after defeating the shansen had made my fingers stiff and clumsy. My first stitches on the napkin were crooked and uneven, some petals of the flower I was trying to embroider bigger than others. Frustrated, I picked them apart, then tried again.
I loosened my grip on the napkin and slowed down, letting each dip of the needle match the steady rhythm of my breath. As I worked, I hummed the tune Edan used to play on his flute. A twinge of regret fluttered in my chest. If I went straight to Lapzur, I’d never get a chance to give his flute back to him.
Ammi returned just as I was finishing the last handkerchief. In her basket were sand pears, a box of steamed buns, and one large honeycomb cookie fresh off the griddle.
I held the cookie on my palm, the heat seeping through the thin banana leaf that wrapped it, and inhaled. Not one of the hundred dishes I’d sampled during the royal wedding could compare to the sweetness of this treat.
“It’s all yours,” she said, grinning at my blissful expression. “I ate mine on the way back.”