Girls of Paper and Fire (Girls of Paper and Fire #1)(11)

“Hurry up, girl,” General Yu growls, shoving me forward.

As we make our way down toward the waiting carriage, the fierce sun pricking sweat under my arms, I scan the teeming dock for escape routes. But it’s broad daylight in the middle of the busiest port in Ikhara—if I run, I won’t get far. And besides, the General’s heavy hoof-fall beside me is reminder enough that I have to be obedient.

Sith comes up behind me to my other side, a fraction too close. “Need a hand, pretty girl?”

I jerk away before he can touch me. “Never from you.”

Well, obedient doesn’t have to mean cowering.

Tien’s proud face flashes into my mind. Wah, little nuisance! Look at you, standing up to a demon like your skin is Moon and not Paper.

The thought brings a sad, defiant smile to my lips. I blow out a breath. Then, rolling my shoulders back, I take the last few steps to the carriage, my chin high. Because if this is to be my fate, I’m going to walk boldly into it on my own two feet.

Without any demon claws dragging me forward.


Outside the port city, our carriage joins a long road winding through the flat land behind the mountains. It’s filled with strange rock formations, scraggly pines, and tiny white wildflowers clinging to their faces. The dry ground is covered in red dust. The air is thick with it, too, coppery clouds kicked up by the horses. Even though the shutters are pulled down and the covering is drawn tightly across the entranceway, the dust still finds its way inside the carriage, coating my skin in a light layer.

I lick my lips. The dust tastes like how it looks—of rust, and dirt, and endings.

All around us, the thoroughfare is a chaotic whirl of activity. There are men on bear-and horseback. Carts pulled by tusked boars. Huge ground-ships with their sails spread wide. While the busyness makes me shrink farther back from the window, General Yu seems buoyed by the energy and noise, and he leans over to my side, pointing out the crests of notable clans.

“See there? The green-and-white flag? That’s Kitori’s reptilian clan, the Czo. Exquisite clothes-makers. Even the King has their fabrics imported. And there—that chain of ground-boats belongs to the Feng-shi. Very powerful family from Shomu province.” An ornate, silver carriage pulls into place alongside us, and the General notes the insignia. “Ah. The White Wing clan. One of the most powerful bird families in Ikhara. Surely even you must have heard of them?”

I don’t give him the satisfaction of admitting I haven’t. Velvet curtains are draped across the carriage windows. I’m just turning away when one of the curtains twitches aside, and my gaze locks with the glossy eyes of a swan-form girl. The white feathers covering her skin are so lustrous it’s as though they were powdered in pearl dust.

She’s so beautiful that I instinctively smile. But the girl doesn’t return it. A feather-clad hand touches her shoulder and she releases the curtain, disappearing behind the smooth gold.

“Filthy felines,” comes a growl from the General.

I glance round, confused. But he’s staring in the opposite direction, his lip furled.

Beyond the other window, a sleek ground-ship is passing by. Marigold sails billow in a presumably magic-enhanced wind. Craning my head to look out, I track the figures stalking the deck. The way they move reminds me of Tien’s feline slink, and beneath the cloths wrapped over their mouths I make out the jut of their maws. Cat-forms. My eyes flick to the sails. Each is stamped with three claw-tipped paw prints.

Our carriage gives a kick, hitting a pothole in the road, just as I place the crest.

The Amala, or the Cat Clan, as they’re more affectionately known. My father has told me stories about them, not even trying to hide the note of admiration in his voice. Out of all demon clans, the Cat Clan is the one Paper castes feel the most affinity for. They’re known for their rebellious nature, uprising and causing trouble wherever they can, especially if it involves annoying the King. I heard they intercepted a wagon carrying crates of the King’s pastries from a specialist bakery in Ang-Khen, Baba told me just a few weeks ago, a glimmer in his eyes. When it arrived at the Hidden Palace, they found that a single bite had been taken out of each of the pastries. Every one.

I push down a snigger at the memory. Now, these are demons I can get behind.

As we watch, two men on horseback ride up beside the Amala’s ground-ship. Wind billows their long peacock-blue capes, so I can’t make out the white brushstrokes that would reveal their clan, but there’s something about the elegant manner in which the men ride that invokes royalty. Even though, of course, they can’t be. They’re human.

One of the Amala’s members leans over the edge of the ship, shouting something to the two men, gesturing wildly. They shout back—or at least they seem to from the movement of their heads—before pulling their horses away.

“Who were they?” I ask as the men disappear into the lines of traffic.

General Yu doesn’t look round. “The Hannos,” he answers distractedly. Something flickers across his face, gone too quickly for me to interpret.

I’ve heard of the Hannos from my father and Tien, though with none of the warmth in their voices as when they’d spoken of the Cat Clan. The largest Paper caste clan in Ikhara, the Hannos are one of the Demon King’s most prominent supporters. When it comes to Paper clans, one of his only supporters.

So why were two of their men talking with one of the King’s main opponents?