Girls of Paper and Fire (Girls of Paper and Fire #1)(13)

I whip round. Outside, willowy stalks of bamboo trees are flashing past, an ivory-green blur. Eerie sounds fill the forest—the song of owls, rain dripping on leaves, distant calls from animals hidden in the dark. The air is loamy with the smell of wet earth. After hours of empty plains, the closeness of the trees startles me. We’re passing through them impossibly fast, and even though there’s the snap and sweep of leaves on the carriage’s exterior, the noise is muffled. More magic.

“The great Bamboo Forest of Han,” the General announces, pride in his voice. “Part of the palace’s defenses. Too dense to enter on animal-back, too difficult for an army to traverse. It would take days to tear down a path. Visitors and traders must obtain the correct permits to be granted the daos from the royal shamans that open up this hidden road.”

I watch the trees whip past, my eyes wide. After a few minutes, the carriage slows. The horses drop to a canter, then a trot, as the forest opens, and I reel back, eyes even wider than before.

The Hidden Palace of Han.

Fortress of the Demon King.

Black rock as dark as night; walls so high they eclipse the moon. The perimeter of the palace rears up from the earth like some kind of giant stone monster. Far above, the tiny figures of guards pace the parapet. The walls have an unearthly shimmer about them, and as we draw closer, I notice millions of glowing characters ingrained in the marbled stone, swirling and spinning off one another beneath the rain-slicked surface. The low hum of chanting vibrates through the air.

The royal shamans.

Goose bumps prick across my skin. I’ve never felt magic like this.

“Shut your mouth,” General Yu commands. “It’s not womanly to stare.”

I do as he says, too awed even to be insulted by his comment. The carriage slows to a stop. There’s the squelch of footsteps in the mud. Moments later, a rap on the wood makes me start.

A round-faced bear-form guard pulls aside the cover, drops of rain nestling in the tufts of his brown fur. “General Yu! Back from Xienzo already!” He bows. “I hope the heavens smiled upon your journey.” When he lifts his head, he blinks at me, ears twitching. “If I may ask, General, who is your guest?”

“Lei-zhi is here to join the court as a Paper Girl,” the General replies with an impatient click of his tongue. “I sent two of my men ahead earlier to inform you. I assume you got the message? Or are we to be kept here waiting outside the palace like a couple of lowly street peddlers?”

The guard dips his head. “Of course not, General. One moment. Let me confirm with Gate Master Zhar.”

I watch out the window as the soldier, hunched against the rain, crosses to an outpost stationed beside a set of towering doors. The gates are set deep into the wall. To each side stand giant pecalang, the statues sometimes placed outside buildings as protection from evil spirits. Most of the pecalang in my village are small, just tokens, really, hand-sized and easily torn from their plinths in a storm. These ones are enormous. They stand imposing at over twenty feet tall, carved in the likeness of bulls, their faces contorted into snarls that seem so real they snatch my breath away. Stone hands grip flame-lit braziers. As my eyes adjust to the light, I notice more statues lined along the wall. Then I start.

Because these guards are alive.

The hairs on my arms stand up at the sight of hundreds of demons standing flank-to-flank along the perimeter of the palace. They stare fixedly ahead, swords crossed at their chests. The wet flicker of flames reflects in their eyes—demon eyes. Gazelle, snow leopard, lion, boar. So many forms I’ve never seen before, and each one Moon caste. Buffalo, wildcat, ibex, ape. Cobra, jackal, tiger, rhinoceros. So many forms I’ve never even dreamed, and the thrum of barely contained strength in each glint of tapered incisor and horn and claw.

I draw back, swallowing.

“Impressive, yes?” the General states, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. Or rather, I don’t speak because I can’t. It’s as though there were hands wrapped over my throat. As though the press of the demons were everywhere.

At a wave from the bear guard, a smaller set of doors beside the main gate draw open. The horses pull us through into a long tunnel. Its ceiling curves low, forming a cocoon of darkness. The chanting of the royal shamans echoes all around, a heavy hum in the air, the unsettling noise vibrating right down to my bones. Then everything goes silent.

There’s a flash, like lightning.

A fiery shiver explodes across my skin.

I bite back a cry. The heat is just on the edge of bearable. I spin around but can’t see anything that might be causing it. “What’s—what’s happening?” I stammer, rubbing my hands over my goose-pricked arms.

“We’re passing through the shamans’ protection,” General Yu answers. “If we are not who we say we are, this dao will reveal us to the guards inside. Only the most powerful shaman could weave magic to evade an enchantment like this. I would tell you that you get used to it, but it’s not as if you’ll ever be leaving.” The corners of his lips curve into sharp points. “Welcome to the palace, Paper Girl.”





FIVE


AS WE CLEAR THE TUNNEL, the sensation lifts, along with the uneasy silence.

My first impression of the world within the palace grounds is a smell, so sweet it makes my mouth water: night-blooming jasmine. The flowers burst in a fiery-green tangle along the walls. The familiarity of the scent shocks me, and I take in my first look at the palace, gripping the edge of the bench as I lean forward to stare out, half holding my breath.