Spin the Dawn(102)

My eyes wandered over to the dresses. The sunlight and moonlight gowns were folded into a neat stack, both ready to present to Emperor Khanujin and Lady Sarnai. But the last dress…it hung over my chair, skirts sweeping the floor.

It had to have been a dream.

“Get up. Get up.” Ammi pulled me by the arm, struggling to lift me from my bed. “At least you slept in your clothes.”

So I had. Strange, I didn’t remember putting them back on the previous night. There was a mirror on my left, long and rectangular and framed with a rosewood lattice. I saw myself in the glass, my sunken eyes tired from worry and lack of sleep, wisps of black hair over my face and the rest tangled at the ends. Nothing out of the ordinary.

I tidied my hair, straightened my pants. “I’m awake.”

Ammi took a step back and crossed her arms. “No time for breakfast.” She knelt to wipe the spilled soup off the tray. “I’ll leave this here for you to eat later.”

I nodded, clasping my tailor’s belt. My scissors hung at my side, their weight familiar.

She dusted my hat and passed it to me. “Your hair’s gotten long.”

I hesitated, wishing that Edan’s spell over the palace hadn’t affected Ammi, too. It would have been nice for another girl to know my secret.

“I know,” I replied, taking the hat. “Thank you.”

I gathered the gowns into a basket and hurried to Lady Sarnai’s apartments, almost forgetting to hobble and use my cane. Like at the Summer Palace, the Orchid Pavilion was on the other side of the grounds, and as I passed through the open corridors and courtyards, I avoided looking at the sky. I could tell from the corners of my vision that the clouds were inflamed, that even my shadow had a tinge of red. But I wouldn’t look up, wouldn’t view the flaming red sun.

I hurried up the steps and fell to my knees after the guards let me in, bowing. “Your Imperial Majesty. My deepest, deepest apologies for—”

The sight of Emperor Khanujin made me forget my words.

Gone was the short, weak ruler I had encountered only five days ago. Thanks to Edan’s magic, Emperor Khanujin was again the regal king beloved and feared by all. His hair was black as ebony, tucked under a headpiece made entirely of gold, and his eyes were bright, if not kind. The fa?ade was so stunning I forgot what his real self looked like.

I pulled my eyes away from him, refusing to let magic toy with my perceptions and feelings. At his side was Edan. I pursed my lips. It’d been days since we’d been together. Edan’s hair was shorter, his curls tamed behind his head, and he was dressed in the black robes he always wore when he was near his master.

He stood tall. Stiff, almost. Bound. That golden cuff still shackled his wrist, and the emperor’s aura radiated as violently as ever. I must have imagined my meeting with Amana the previous night. Seeing Edan this way, I felt as if my heart wanted to burst.

I turned my head slightly, taking in Lady Sarnai’s chambers. They seemed smaller than her rooms in the Summer Palace, perhaps because there were so many gathered here: Minister Lorsa and three other eunuchs, a line of courtiers, several of Lady Sarnai’s maids—and Lord Xina. All here to see if I’d succeeded in making Amana’s dresses.

“You’re late,” said Emperor Khanujin as the doors shut. He wasn’t looking at me, and it took me a while to realize someone else had arrived after me.

Behind me, Lady Sarnai approached. Her bow was slung over her shoulder, as if she’d only just returned from hunting. In her hand was an arrow, as sharp as the animosity in her eyes. I wondered if she was considering shooting me. She certainly didn’t look pleased to see me here.

She gave her weapon to one of the emperor’s eunuchs and dropped the arrow in her hand, as well as her quiver, on the floor. If she was surprised to see Lord Xina here, she concealed it well as she bowed to the emperor.

“Rise,” he said, taking a seat on one of the two scarlet lacquered chairs set out for him and Lady Sarnai in the center of the room, incense burning beside them. I noticed Edan’s amulet on his sash. It looked the same as always—old and dull, with that carving of a hawk.

“The red sun has arrived,” Emperor Khanujin declared. “Master Tailor, we have long awaited your completion of Amana’s dresses. Present them to Lady Sarnai so she may attire herself in one to honor the shansen’s arrival at our celebration banquet tonight.”

I swallowed, keeping my head low and my hand on the head of my cane as I rose. “Your Highness,” I said, addressing Lady Sarnai, “I have completed your dresses and present them to you in anticipation of your marriage to Emperor Khanujin.”

As I lifted the dresses and unfolded them, I marveled that not a wrinkle marred their fabric. I heard Lady Sarnai’s maids gasp as I held up each dress, one after another. The skirts puffed like clouds, shimmering and sparkling with such intensity, they looked like they were made of beams of sunlight and moonlight, of gold and diamonds and other precious jewels.

“One dress woven with the laughter of the sun,” I narrated as the maid took the dresses from me to present to Lady Sarnai. “And one embroidered with the tears of the moon.”

Lady Sarnai barely looked at them. It was difficult to do so. The dresses were blinding up close, but my eyes were used to their light.

“Lastly,” I said, “a dress painted with the blood of the stars.”