Spin the Dawn(107)

“No!” I shouted, pounding my fist against the mirror. “What you say isn’t true.”

Bandur caught my wrist, his black nails scraping against my skin. “Be happy, Maia. It will not last.”

Then he was gone.

Slowly, I crumpled to the ground. Bandur had to be lying. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

I wanted to weep, but no tears would fall. And no matter how I tried to summon fear, I could not. Deep down I knew Bandur was right. There was a crack in my soul, a new hollow where shadows seeped in and folded over my heart. Soon it would shatter me, and I’d become like him. A demon.

“I am Maia Tamarin,” I told the mirror. “Daughter of Kalsang and Liling Tamarin, sister of Finlei and Sendo and Keton.” I swallowed. “Lover of Edan.” I said this over and over, remembering the faces of my parents and brothers and Edan, remembering my childhood by the ocean and my love for silk and colors and light. I remembered what I had lost, and what I had gained, and the pain of Edan’s leaving without knowing I’d deceived him. Finally, the tears came, choking me with emotion as I rocked myself back and forth.

I missed Baba and Keton so much. So, so much.

Be happy, Bandur had taunted me. It will not last.

How could I be happy without my family? I’d thought coming to the palace would save Baba and his shop, but I’d been so wrong. And now, without Edan—

Suddenly I remembered Edan’s gift and his words: It’ll bring some happiness back to your family.

I rubbed my eyes and dug furiously in my trunk for the last walnut Edan had given me. When I found it, I clenched it in my fist, clinging to its warmth.

I would not let Bandur take my soul. Not without a fight.

I needed to see light in Baba’s eyes again, to see Keton walk again. I needed to remember what it was like to be happy. If only for one last time.

Reaching for my scissors, I attacked the remains of our enchanted carpet until it quivered with life.

Home. I was going home.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN


It was a few hours before sunset when I arrived in Port Kamalan. The roads were empty; everyone was at home to celebrate the red sun, and not even the street peddlers were out selling their wares. I spied Calu’s father in his bakery, stirring flour, oil, sugar, and water as he did every afternoon, preparing the dough for tomorrow morning’s buns, but he didn’t see me. No one did.

Our shop was closed, but I knew Baba was absentminded and would have forgotten to lock the door. With my carpet rolled under my arm, I quietly pushed my way inside.

Nothing had changed—piles of linen shirts sat folded on the counter, cobwebs were slung across the corners, and Baba’s pan with charcoal rested against a low stool.

“Who’s there?” a voice rasped from far behind the counter—if I were to guess, from our little altar beside the kitchen. Baba shuffled slowly into the storefront.

Seeing my father made me choke with emotion. “Baba!”

He recognized my voice before my silhouette; then his eyes widened.

“Heavens, Maia!” His breath hitched. “You should have written that you were coming.”

“I can’t stay long,” I said, trying to remain in the shadows. My eyes were bloodshot from crying, and I didn’t want Baba to see.

Baba ushered me inside. “Did the emperor give you a holiday?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t think he would, now that you’re the imperial tailor.” Baba held my shoulders. “My daughter, the emperor’s tailor. It’s been difficult keeping your secret, especially when I’m so proud of you.”

“You don’t need to anymore. The emperor has told everyone that I am a woman.”

“Truly?” Baba stood taller. “Then, praise Amana, he is as magnificent as they say.”

I pursed my lips instead of responding. The red sun hung lower in the sky, but its light poured in from the kitchen window, and I shielded my eyes from the glare. “Where is Keton?”

“Home in time for dinner?” came a voice behind me. “Thank the gods. Baba put me in charge of the cooking. But now that you’re back…”

“Keton,” I said softly. My hand slipped into my pocket with the walnut Edan had given me, and I held it as I watched Keton struggle forward, dragging himself along the wall. I rushed to help him, dipping under his shoulder and wrapping my arm around his waist so he could lean on me.

“Careful, Maia,” he scolded me, half teasing. “These bones are still healing. You’ll crush them with that grip of yours.”

The corners of my vision glistened, and my throat swelled. I let him go. “You can walk?”

“Hardly,” Keton replied, wearily leaning against the wall.

“You said you’d take a step for every day I was gone.”

“Maia,” said Baba sharply.

At my side, Keton hung his head. “I tried. I really tried, Maia.”

My heart sank, but I smiled so Keton couldn’t see the sadness in my eyes.

I rested my carpet against the wall and looked about the shop. It was neater than before, but only barely. I saw my letters strewn over the cutting table, their edges worn, and I briefly wondered if the sand caught between their folds had made it to Port Kamalan. I couldn’t bring myself to check.