Spin the Dawn(103)

“Wait.” Lord Xina stepped forward to inspect the dress. His large hands hovered over the fabric, which strangely did not glitter or sparkle. Even in my hazy memory, I could have sworn it had come alive last night when I had worn it. As if I carried the light of the stars.

But no, the dress remained black. Black as coal, as ink—as death.

“An inauspicious color for a wedding, isn’t it?” said Lord Xina, slinging the words at the emperor. “You insult the shansen.”

A corner of Lady Sarnai’s lips twisted upward. “Even if the color did not repulse me, it is exceedingly plain, Master Tamarin. Hardly a dress evocative of our great goddess.”

I drew closer to the maid holding the dress and tried to get her to step into the light. But the light was crimson and did nothing to bring out the colors of the stars.

“It catches the light, Your Highness,” I said, trying to hide how mystified I was by the lackluster dress. “Perhaps because today is the red sun, the light is different.”

Emperor Khanujin folded his arms across his chest, his long silken sleeves draping over the ground. “Don’t look so sullen, Lady Sarnai. I think the color will suit you quite well.”

“I won’t wear it,” she said. “Lord Xina is right. It would be inauspicious.”

“Perhaps Your Highness should try on one of the other dresses,” Edan prompted. “The dress of the sun.”

Lady Sarnai’s eyes narrowed at him. “What difference does a different dress make, if this one fails to dazzle? I asked for the three dresses of the goddess Amana, not imitations.”

“They are not imitations,” said Edan sharply.

“Indeed not,” Emperor Khanujin said. He rested his hands on his knees, looking strangely calm. “Last night, my guards swore they saw the goddess Amana at the Great Temple wearing a dress made of the stars.”

Several of the eunuchs murmured to one another that they, too, had heard this tale.

Lord Xina turned to Edan, his face taut with anger. “Did you think to fool us with your magic? To make us believe the goddess Amana would actually walk the earth in this…this vile gown?”

“Put on the dress,” Emperor Khanujin commanded me.

Mine was not the only head that snapped to face the emperor. “Sire?”

“Master Tamarin, demonstrate its power, as I believe you did last night.”

“I don’t see how that would be appropriate,” interjected Lord Xina. “Master Tamarin is a man. He couldn’t possibly—”

“That is where you are wrong, Lord Xina.” A smile smeared the emperor’s lips. “Master Tamarin is Kalsang Tamarin’s youngest child. His daughter, Maia.”

A gasp escaped my lips, and shock rippled across the room from face to face. Why was he doing this?

“An impostor!” I heard people murmur. Minister Lorsa’s hand jumped to his mouth, and the eunuch beside him began scribbling into his records fiercely. Lady Sarnai’s smirk washed away into bewilderment, but I was too busy watching Edan to savor it. His face remained quiet and brooding, though he lifted an eyebrow at me, a sign that he had no idea what the emperor was thinking. Nervously, I twisted my fingers.

“Maia Tamarin, put on the dress.”

Edan moved to assist me, but the emperor raised a hand, stopping him.

Aware that everyone watched me, I retrieved the star-painted dress and went behind the changing screen. I could feel Lady Sarnai’s eyes burning through the screen, waiting for my dress to fail to bring Amana’s magic to life.

A chord of fear twanged in my gut that she might be right. None of the maids moved to help me, and the buttons didn’t fasten themselves this morning. I reached for my scissors, and that was all it took for the magic to return. The buttons knit together, closing me into the dress.

Without any hesitation, I lifted my hat; my hair tumbled down just past my shoulders. Then I stepped out from behind the screen.

My dress threw off dazzling bursts of light, intense enough to wash over the entire chamber. Overwhelmed, Emperor Khanujin raised his hands to shield his eyes. Lady Sarnai and Lord Xina did the same.

But Edan did not look away. A silent breath escaped his lips. Marvel sparked in his eyes, awakening him, and for a moment my Edan had returned, not the Edan who was Emperor Khanujin’s servant. Yet it wasn’t the dress he was looking at; it was me.

“You’re glowing,” he whispered, so softly only I could hear.

I looked down, confused. My dress had come to life, as it had last night. It was a different color today, more purple than black—richer even than the dyes only kings and queens could afford. The fabric rippled and shone, radiating every color imaginable across the ceiling and walls. Then I saw my reflection in the mirror. I was glowing—my skin, my hair, my hands, my entire body radiated a soft, silver light that grew more brilliant as I became aware of it. Edan reached for my scissors. I’d been gripping them so hard the bows had made indents in my fingers.

The dress grew brighter as his hand brushed against mine, but then he stepped back, and Emperor Khanujin took his place.

Wonder filled the emperor’s face. His sneer slid from his lips, and he touched my chin, raising it to him as he had in the prison cell.

“What a glorious transformation,” he said, studying me from every angle. “Now I see why they mistook you for Amana herself. Walk for me.”