Girls of Paper and Fire (Girls of Paper and Fire #1)(9)

Panic flares inside me like a firecracker: bright and burning, a sudden flare.

“You—you wouldn’t,” I stammer. “I’m a Paper Girl—”

“So you’ll admit it now?” Sith laughs, cutting me off. “Well, you know exactly what is expected of you, then. Better start practicing.”

He runs a hand along my shoulder and tugs my shirt back. Rough fingers brush down my arm, sending a wave of nausea into my throat. I squirm away, buck my hips, trying to throw him off. But my struggling barely moves him.

So I scream.

Sith clamps a hand over my mouth. “Quiet!” he hisses. “Not a sound, or—”

“Get off her.”

The command is delivered quietly yet firm as a fist. At once, Sith lurches off me. General Yu stands framed in the doorway, one hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his belt.

Sith points at me. “The girl tried to escape, General,” he starts, and I’m glad to see a tremor in his outstretched finger. “She’s fast, but I caught her and brought her straight back. I was just—just keeping her here until your return.”

“Liar!” I snarl.

The General regards us in silence, his face impassive. “The boat is ready to set sail,” he says, turning. “Follow me.”

I sense Sith relax. “Yes, General.”

“But, Sith?” The General pauses, continuing over his shoulder, “If I ever catch you touching the girl inappropriately again, it will be your job to explain to the King how you soiled one of his concubines. Do you understand?”

Sith flinches. “Yes, General.”

This time when he grabs me, Sith takes care to keep to where my shoulders are covered. But he marches me forward with the same aggression and shoots me a sideways look, slatted eyes narrowed in disgust.

I scowl openly back, but I don’t struggle. His grip is tight, and ahead of us the General’s fist is still around the hilt of his sword, reminding me how easily he would be able to turn it against me.

We follow General Yu in the opposite direction to which I ran, out to the oceanfront. There’s a port, busy even at this hour. Lights glint from the wooden gantries, rippling the water with color. A wide, star-speckled sky stretches out to an invisible horizon. Despite everything that’s going on, my eyes go wide at the sight.

I’ve always dreamed about seeing the sea.

Behind us, restaurants and hookah cafés line the street, the night filled with raucous laughter, the jeers and yells of an argument bursting into life. Wherever we are, it doesn’t seem like a rich town. There are only a few demon figures amid the crowds and all of them are Steel. Outside one of the shops, a salt-stained banner snaps in the wind. I make out the faded pattern of two rearing canines back-to-back painted in sweeping brushstrokes across the fabric—the famous dog clan of Noei, the Black Jackals.

I do a double take. “Noei?” Louder, I call ahead to General Yu, “We’re in Noei?”

He doesn’t turn, but his head tilts, which I take as a yes.

My mouth goes dry. Noei is the province to the east of Xienzo. We’ve traveled farther than I hoped.

As the General leads us to the far side of the port, we pass young ship hands dressed in grubby sarongs and fishermen deftly picking squid from clouds of tangled nets. We come to a stop at a large boat moored at the end of a dock. A crowd of cream, fin-shaped sails, unfurled, flutter in the wind.

The tiger soldier is waiting at the top of the gangplank. “The captain is ready to set sail, General,” he says with a tuck of his chin.

“Good. Sith—take the girl to her room.”

“Yes, General.”

“And remember what I said.”

As soon as he turns away, Sith scowls. He lowers his mouth close to my cheek, and I stare ahead with my lips pressed, holding down a shiver as his words unspool silkily in my ear. “You’re welcome to try to escape again, pretty girl, but this time it will be the sea’s arms waiting to catch you. And I think you’ll find them an even crueler embrace than mine.”





FOUR


NO ONE TELLS ME HOW LONG we’ll be sailing. I watch for differences in the ocean, scan the horizon for signs of land, any opportunity for escape. But after three days, the rolling slate-blue of the sea still looks identical. And besides, most of the time I’m crouched with my head over a bucket, watching another kind of liquid slop back and forth. I’m so seasick I barely have the energy to worry about what will happen when we arrive at our destination. Resignation is beginning to settle in my bones like a poison, black and slow.

There’s no going back now. I’m ready for whatever is coming my way, I tell myself, so many times that I wonder who I’m trying to convince.

Two times a day the General sends a ship hand to bring me food. After I throw up the steamed taro dumplings he serves me one night, the boy sneaks back with a second helping. He’s a Moon caste fox-form, probably just a couple of years younger than me. Maybe it’s because of his age, or how he can barely look me in the eye, but for whatever reason it’s the first time I haven’t been completely intimidated by a Moon demon. Over the days I’ve come to appreciate the lovely umber hue of his fur. How there’s something beautiful about the way his jaw is molded, a hard curve tapering to a sharp chin.

“Wait,” I say now as he hurries to leave. I don’t dare touch the bamboo basket, even though the smell of the dumplings inside makes my mouth water.