Spin the Dawn(6)

I pursed my lips and bowed quickly. Then I rushed to find Baba.

As usual, he was kneeling at the small shrine by our kitchen stove, holding thin sticks of incense. He bowed three times, once to each of the three different wooden carvings of Amana, the mother goddess.

Mama had painted the Amana statues when I was a child. I’d helped her design the goddess’s divine gowns: one of the sun, one of the moon, and one of the stars. Those statues were among the few things we had that had belonged to Mama, and Baba prayed to them every day and long into the night. He never spoke of Mama, but I knew he missed her terribly.

I didn’t wish to interrupt his worship, but I had no choice. “Baba,” I said, shaking his frail shoulders. “There’s an imperial official here to see you.”

I walked my father to the front of the shop. He was so weak he leaned against my arm. He refused to use a cane, saying it wasn’t his legs that were broken.

“Master Tamarin,” the eunuch said stiffly. Baba’s appearance did not impress him, and he showed it. “His Majesty is in need of a tailor. I have been ordered to bring you with me to the Summer Palace.”

Trying not to chew on my lip, I stared at the floor. There was no way Baba could make the journey to the Summer Palace, not in his condition. I fidgeted, already knowing what Baba was going to say before he said it—

“Much as your presence honors me, I cannot go.”

I watched the eunuch’s nose turn up at Baba, his expression a mixture of disbelief and disdain. I bit my lip, knowing I shouldn’t interfere, but my agitation grew. We needed this chance.

“I can,” I blurted, just as the emperor’s official was about to speak. “I know my father’s trade. It was I who made Lady Tainak’s gown.”

Baba turned to me. “Maia!”

“I can sew,” I insisted. “Better than anyone.” I took a step toward the dyeing rack. Above it were richly embroidered scrolls that I had labored over for weeks and months. “Simply look at my work—”

Baba shook his head, warning me to stop.

“His Imperial Majesty’s instructions were clear,” the eunuch said with a sniff. “To bring the master tailor of the Tamarin family to the Summer Palace. A girl cannot become a master.”

At my side, Baba curled his hands into fists. He said, in the strongest voice I’d heard from him in months, “And who are you to tell me who is a master of my craft?”

The eunuch puffed up his chest. “I am Minister Lorsa of His Imperial Majesty’s Ministry of Culture.”

“Since when do ministers play messenger?”

“You think too much of yourself, Master Tamarin,” Lorsa replied coldly. “I’ve only come to you because Master Dingmar in Gangsun is ill. Your work might have been held in great esteem at one time, but your years lost to ale and wine have soured your family’s good name. If not for Lord Tainak’s recommendation, I would not be here at all.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. “You have no right to speak to him that way.”

“Maia, Maia.” Baba rested a hand on my shoulder. “There’s mending in the back to be done.”

It was his way of dismissing me. I gritted my teeth and turned, but I glared at the emperor’s messenger and walked as slowly as I could.

“My carriage will be waiting outside on Yanamer Street,” Lorsa was saying. “If you or your son is not there by tomorrow morning, I will be forced to give this generous offer to someone else. I have my doubts that your humble shop will survive the shame of failing our emperor.”

Then he turned on his heel and left.

“Baba,” I said, rushing to him as soon as the shop door closed. “You cannot go.”

“The emperor’s command cannot be ignored.”

“It’s an invitation,” I said. “Not a command.”

“That’s how it is worded. But I know what will happen if we ignore it.” Baba sighed. “Word will spread that we did not heed the emperor’s calling. No one will come to the shop anymore, and we will lose everything.”

He was right. It wasn’t just about the money or the honor—it was a mandatory invitation. Like being drafted to fight in the Five Winters’ War.

“Now that the war is over,” Baba said, “the emperor needs to show the rest of the world that A’landi is great. He will do so by hiring the best of everyone: musicians, tailors, and painters. No expense will be spared. It is an honor to be invited. One I cannot refuse.”

I said nothing. Baba was in no shape to travel to the palace, let alone become the emperor’s new tailor. And Keton…Keton couldn’t sew the most basic of stitches, let alone garments worthy of the imperial court.

But me? I knew I could do it. I wanted to be the imperial tailor.

I went to my room and scrubbed my sleeve over the smudges on my mirror so I could see myself clearly. Honestly.

Baba always said I took after Mama, not him. I’d never believed him. I looked at my straight nose, large round eyes, and full lips—yes, those were from Mama. But Mama had been the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, while I…I’d grown up in a house full of men and didn’t even know how to act like a girl.

Finlei used to tease that, from behind, I looked exactly like Keton—reedy as a boy. The freckles on my face and arms didn’t help either. Girls were supposed to be delicate and pale. But maybe, maybe all this could work in my favor.