Spin the Dawn(17)

“Yes, Your Highness,” we tailors said, our heads bowed. “Thank you for this chance, Your Highness.”

Arriving behind Lady Sarnai, a tall young man slipped between Norbu’s and Yindi’s tables to circle our stations. The other tailors had brought their finest samples with them to display: brocade purses with golden tassels, collars embroidered with peonies and chrysanthemums, sashes embroidered with scenes from the Seven Classics—of women dancing and playing the zither. My station was embarrassingly bare. I’d been in such a rush to leave home, I hadn’t even thought to bring some of my work to show the future empress.

Whoever the tall man was, he didn’t stop at my table. Instead, he returned to Lady Sarnai’s side as she proceeded to judge the first tailor.

“It was not my idea to have a shawl-making contest,” I heard her say to him. “What a waste of a challenge.”

“Emperor Khanujin noticed you had no summer clothing. He is only concerned with your welfare.”

“So he says.” She sniffed. “You Southerners and your traditions. All this fuss simply to pick a tailor.”

The tall man smiled amicably. “His Majesty gave me the impression that this trial was your idea, Your Highness.”

His tone was polite, but the audacity of his words now made me wonder who he was. Lady Sarnai hadn’t bothered introducing him, so he couldn’t be that important. Yet he wore all black, which indicated he was of high rank. The gold epaulets, fine boots, and black mantle slung over one shoulder suggested he was a soldier from beyond the West Far Dunes. But most soldiers didn’t dress so fashionably—or richly.

Maybe he was a eunuch. If so, he had to be an important one. Or perhaps he was an ambassador. His features were slightly foreign; he had black hair like A’landans but it was curly, not straight, and despite his tanned, olive skin, his eyes were light—they snagged the glint of the sun.

That was how he caught me staring at him. Quickly, I looked back down at my feet, but not before I saw a smile form on his lips. He disappeared from my view, his movements lazy yet graceful, more like a cat than a nobleman.

I decided I didn’t like him.

When I looked up next, Lady Sarnai had finished judging Master Delun’s work. Lorsa followed behind her, obsequiously complimenting her on her taste. I kept my head bent and my back bowed—even though it was starting to ache. The other tailors did the same until Lady Sarnai visited their tables. One by one, our fates were determined.

“I wouldn’t let my maid use that to clean my chamber pot,” she said cruelly of another master’s shawl. Her eyes, painted with lapis powder and darkened with charcoal, narrowed into a flinty stare. “Is this the best you could do?”

Then she told Nampo—the tailor who’d offered a bet against me: “There are only four colors in this design. Do you think me a peasant?”

“There are,” Nampo said, stumbling over his words, “but that is the style, Your Highness. It is like calligraphy—”

“If I’d wanted calligraphy, I’d have asked for poets, not tailors.” Lady Sarnai held a cup of tea in her palm, and she sipped it, keeping her lips thin with displeasure. “Master Nampo, you are dismissed.”

By the time Lady Sarnai came to my table, my heart was palpitating.

I hadn’t been so close when I saw her last night. We were about the same height and build; we might have passed for sisters were I not pretending to be a boy, and were she not the Jewel of the North, the shansen’s only daughter.

“Keton Tamarin,” I introduced myself, bowing even lower.

“Tamarin,” she repeated. “I haven’t heard of you.”

We could not have been more than two years apart in age, yet it felt like twenty. I kept my head bowed. “I’m from Port Kamalan.”

“I didn’t ask.”

I clamped my mouth shut, staying quiet as Lady Sarnai touched a corner of my shawl and raised it closer to study it. She took a moment longer to consider it than she had with the other tailors. Or at least, that was how it felt.

I tried not to stare at her as I waited, but from a stolen glimpse, I could see there was too much powder on her face, particularly around her eyes, which were bloodshot and puffy.

Had she spent last night crying?

I wouldn’t be happy either if my father had sold me off to be married. But to wed Emperor Khanujin…could that be so horrible?

You’re letting your imagination run wild, Maia, I scolded myself. What do you know of Lady Sarnai?

“The design is extraordinary,” Lady Sarnai said at last. “Your skill is to be commended, Master Tamarin. I have never seen work so fine….”

I held my breath, waiting for her to announce my victory in front of all the tailors who’d spoken ill of me. I was just as good as they were. No, better.

Baba would be so proud.

Lady Sarnai twisted her lips. “But I simply despise yellow.”

I blinked, certain I had misheard her.

“That is all,” Lady Sarnai said before moving on. Minister Lorsa sniffed at me, a sign that I was sure to be dismissed.

My throat closed up, and my hands trembled. No, no, no. I can’t go home. I can’t let Baba down. Our shop won’t survive another winter unless I win, or unless I marry Calu.

I was so distraught I hadn’t noticed the tall man coming over to my station. A deep, quiet grunt escaped his mouth, and I looked up.