Spin the Dawn(38)

“Only out of boredom,” I said curtly. It was the truth—Edan had told me as much. “I doubt he takes a real interest in anyone.”

“He is a disagreeable man,” Lady Sarnai conceded. “I wonder if you’ll do something for me….” She waited for me to nod. “I noticed you staring at my needlework when you entered.”

“Your work is very fine,” I said honestly. “The Northern style is the one I’m least familiar with. I could not help but be curious.”

“You should take a closer look,” said Lady Sarnai, gesturing at her work. “Tell me what your keen eyes see.”

I walked over to her frame, dreading that I’d find some secret message embroidered into the scene and be blackmailed for knowing she was betraying Emperor Khanujin. But her work was simply a scene of three animals. The elegance and boldness of her patterns surprised me. The Northern style had never been considered one of A’landi’s great schools of embroidery, which were all inclined toward more intricate and layered designs, yet the elegance…

“Describe it for me.”

“A tiger,” I said aloud. “That is your father. And a dragon—Emperor Khanujin.”

There were also the beginnings of a bird; it flew over them, its talons clutching a pearl that both the tiger and the dragon were reaching for.

“You look confused,” said Lady Sarnai. “The pearl represents A’landi, and the bird is causing a rift between the tiger and dragon, you see. Just as magic creates a rift between the North and South.” She leaned forward. “You Southerners and I may have our differences, but we are pious people. The presence of magic in A’landi is unnatural. It brings strife between the emperor and my father.”

I remembered Yindi’s warning about the shansen. “But not all magic is the work of demons, is it, Your Highness? Not all of it is bad?”

A dark look passed over Lady Sarnai’s face, and I wondered what she had seen with her father. “Magic is the root of all that is wicked in this world. And enchanters are at the center of it. After all, what are demons but enchanters who have fallen from grace?” She scoffed. “I wouldn’t expect a country boy such as you to understand.”

I lowered my head. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“My father never trusted Emperor Khanujin,” she said, “but he never told me why. Never told me why he started the war in the first place.” She pursed her lips, and I thought I read sadness in her dark eyes. It was hard to think of her—a highborn lady—as a prisoner.

“I remember meeting Khanujin once, when we were children. He was a sickly boy, especially when compared to his older brother—the heir. His skin was yellow as sand, and he could barely mount a horse. But look at him now. So…”

She didn’t choose a word, and I didn’t dare offer the one I was thinking: magnificent.

Lady Sarnai paused, as if waiting for my reaction. But for the life of me, I could not fathom what point she was trying to make.

What must it have been like for her, to go from a princess of A’landi to the daughter of a traitor? For centuries, a shansen was chosen from her family to serve as A’landi’s military leader and protect the country from its hostile Northern neighbors. But when Khanujin’s father and brother died, the current shansen refused to pledge allegiance to Khanujin. And so the Five Winters’ War began.

It hurt to remember a time when my country was whole, and my family was whole. Even now, with the truce, no one knew why the shansen would not serve Khanujin. But Lady Sarnai suggested it had something to do with magic.

“I’d like you to get to know Edan better,” Lady Sarnai finally went on. “Find out his weaknesses, his strengths. Find out what binds him to Emperor Khanujin. What is the source of his loyalty?”

I took a step back. “I…I doubt he would tell me.”

“He is a fickle creature,” Lady Sarnai agreed, “but I have a feeling he would open up to you. You’re not a bad-looking boy, and the Lord Enchanter must be lonely.”

I must have looked horrified, for Lady Sarnai laughed. She pressed her fingers together. “You have done well in the trial, Master Tamarin, but Master Norbu has done better. Prove to me that you can be useful, and I may be persuaded to look more favorably upon you.”

“Your Highness,” I said, “I was under the impression that the trial was a matter of skill.”

“It is a matter of skill,” Lady Sarnai said, opening her fan.

It was the most beautiful one I had seen yet. The flowers were painted with such tiny details that it must have taken the artist months to complete.

“But craftsmanship is a luxury of peace,” Lady Sarnai said, tipping the fan toward a candle’s flame. “Artisans such as you are soldiers in times of war. Do not forget that.”

“How could I?” I whispered, my heart aching as I watched the hungry flames lick at Lady Sarnai’s fan. “I grew up learning the hardships of war.”

“Quite so.” She tossed the burning fan into a bronze incense pot.

I had to grip my legs to keep from reaching out to save the fan. I watched its long wooden handle crackle in the flames, and the silk painting blister and burn, melting until it was no more than an ember.

“War comes at a great cost,” Lady Sarnai said, “and from that sacrifice comes peace. Sometimes we must let go of what we value for the future of our country. Be it a beautiful fan, or our honor, or our lives. In the end, we all belong to the gods anyway.”