Once we reached the front of the hall, he took a seat in a comfortable satin-cushioned chair, and I stood at his side, the brilliance of my dress waning as my legs throbbed from balancing on heeled shoes.
One after another, the nobles and ministers in Khanujin’s court presented their gifts. Then came the ambassadors from every corner of the world—Kiata, Samaran, Frevera, the Tambu Islands, and Balar. Trunks full of the finest lace, and jade-carved dragons with scales so delicately chiseled they looked like they’d been stolen from tiny fish, hand-painted ceramics gilded with bulls’ heads by the finest Samaran artisans, and wood carvings from lands I had never even heard of.
Finally, the shansen arrived. As Lady Sarnai’s father, he had the honor of presenting his gifts last.
For such a large man, he moved quietly. Scars roughened his cheeks, his gray beard curving from his chin like the tip of a ceremonial dagger. Up close, the angles of his face were sharp and unforgiving. Carved by war.
“I present to you, Emperor Khanujin, a scepter crafted by the blind monks in the Singing Mountains. It is meant to bring prosperity to he who rules A’landi.”
He turned to me next, his piercing gaze falling on my heavily powdered face. My dress flared brighter as my pulse quickened.
The shansen harrumphed, and though he did not shield his eyes, he looked away. “And to you, my daughter—the finest archer in A’landi—I give the ash bow you sought to wield when you were a girl.” I caught the tiniest ripple of pride in his next words. “Of all my children, you were the only one who could draw it.”
The bow was so tall that the bottom of the curved limb rested just above my foot. Its lightness surprised me, but I kept my lips twisted in a scowl even as I inclined my chin to acknowledge the gift. I knew Lady Sarnai held little regard for her father.
“With the shansen’s offering, the Procession of Gifts is concluded,” Chief Minister Yun proclaimed.
I could hardly suppress my relief. All the guests fell to their knees and bowed to the emperor, wishing him “ten thousand years,” a phrase I was beginning to wish I’d never have to hear or mumble again. Then finally, stiffly, I followed the emperor out of the hall.
He heedlessly took a pace that required me to hustle to keep up. I kept my head down, staring at the long stretch of gold tiles leading outdoors, ignoring the faces of our bowing guests. But as I followed, a hawk’s cry tore my attention away from the floor. My eyes flew to the windows and up to the sky.
A hawk soared above the palace, but its feathers were gray not black, and its eyes did not glow the familiar yellow that haunted my dreams.
Of course it isn’t Edan, you fool, I rebuked myself. He hasn’t the magic to turn anymore.
When we exited the hall, the hawk still flew above us, its tapered wings skimming the clouds. It followed us until the emperor stopped at the nearest pavilion.
I desperately hoped he would dismiss me so I could rest before the banquet tonight. My feet ached from standing.
No such luck.
He clapped for one of the attendants to bring me the shansen’s gift.
“You must be keen to test out your bow,” he said. “See that hawk in the sky? I’ll have the cooks roast it for the banquet tonight.”
“It would be inauspicious for me to hunt,” I said tightly, “given it is our wedding day.”
“Now you care about decorum? There’s been plenty of death in the palace, thanks to you. Surely the gods will overlook the death of one measly bird.”
He thrust the bow at me, and my pulse shot up, my dress flaring in response. I clenched my fists, calming myself. “No, thank you.”
“Why so dour, Sarnai?” the emperor taunted. “I’ve your lover in the dungeon. Aren’t you curious about him? Whether he’s still alive?”
He circled me so I couldn’t pass him. “A hundred lashes last night,” he continued, “and a hundred this morning. That’s more than most men can survive, yet Xina is still alive. Barely. A quiet one, he’s always been.” Khanujin leaned closer to whisper in my ear, “They tell him if he’ll scream, they’ll stop. But he won’t. Wouldn’t you like to see him, Sarnai? His blood stains the walls of his cell. They had to send in two girls to mop up the mess when he fainted. When they were done, my guards woke him again for another hundred lashes. I wonder if you’d recognize him. He’s more of a thing now than a warrior. That is what Northern pride will do for you.”
I raised my chin, my tongue heavy with a retort that I bit back.
Pathetic, Maia, the voice inside me taunted. Why hold back? Have a taste of your power. The emperor is weak. Show him his place.
Tensing, I pushed aside the voice. Tempting as it would be to punish Khanujin—for what he’d done to Lord Xina, to Edan, and to me—I was not Maia right now. I was Lady Sarnai.
But the shansen’s daughter would have shown him his place. She would have crushed his toes with her heel and vowed to kill him in his sleep. She would have strangled him with the gold chains hanging from his neck. She would have sworn revenge.
Too late, I realized it had been a mistake to bite back my anger.
Khanujin grabbed my wrist and pulled me close, the power of my dress making his cheeks redden and his temples perspire.
“You are not Sarnai.”
My mask of calm faltered. “I—”
I gave a sharp gasp as he tore off my headdress, my neck jerking up as the pearls and jeweled tassels clinked against the pavilion’s marbled floor. He stared at me. Recognition dawned, and his lips thinned with displeasure. “Tamarin.”
“Your Majesty, I can explain—”
“Consider your words carefully, tailor,” he warned, “lest they be your last. Where is she?”
“In her residence. The dress, Your Majesty…she could not wear it. It…it harmed her.”
A beat of silence. He deliberated my answer. Then—
“And how is she now?”
I wavered on how to answer. How was she? Truthfully, the dress’s magic had marked her beyond recognition. I couldn’t imagine the pain she suffered. Only someone as stubborn and hard-hearted as she would cling to life so tenaciously. Still, I wasn’t sure she would survive the week.
But if I told the emperor Lady Sarnai was on the brink of death, I would endanger the wedding. For the sake of A’landi’s peace, I needed time to figure out what to do.
“She is…recovering,” I replied. “Her maids are caring for her.”
I expected him to lash out at me for deceiving him, but the corners of his mouth lifted. “You did well taking her place. Not even her father knows it is you.”