Spin the Dawn(98)

It had been so long since I had to pretend to be a boy, I wasn’t sure I could do it again.

I nodded silently, but my face must have shown my anxiety, for Edan held my cheek in his hand. “Everything will be fine.”

“Will it?” A hard lump rose in my throat, making it painful to speak.

Edan kissed me, so long and deep that even after he let go, my lips burned.

“It will,” he whispered. “I’ll make it so.”

I knew he was trying to make me feel better. But nothing could erase the pain of his departure.

Numbly, I said, “When will you leave for Lapzur?”

“The morning of the red sun. I won’t go until you finish the dresses. Not until I see that you are safe.”

His words did nothing to comfort me. I wiped the corner of my eye with my knuckle. “I told you I’m coming with you….I won’t have you go alone.” I swallowed the lump in my throat.

He held me and thumbed off the tears falling down my cheeks. “Do you recall when I healed your hand?” he said quietly. “You said you wanted to repay me.”

It felt so long ago. I lifted myself from his arms. “Yes.”

“I want you to do something for me.”

I didn’t like the tentativeness in his voice. “I’m listening.”

“When I leave for Lapzur,” Edan said slowly, “I want you to go home to your family and give them this.” He opened his palm, revealing a fourth walnut no different from the ones I had used to trap sunlight and moonlight.

“A gift for your father and your brother,” he said. “It has a drop of Niwa spider blood, among other things—it’ll bring some happiness back to your family.”

My breath grew ragged. “Edan—”

“Put it in their tea,” he interrupted. “And yours. It’ll make you sleep. And when you wake, you’ll be happy too.”

I frowned, unable to read his dark, impenetrable eyes. “No magic tea is going to make me happy, Edan. Not without you.”

“Please.” He touched my lips. “Trust me.”

I tucked my head under his chin and inhaled. But I made no promise.



* * *



? ? ?

It was nearly dusk when we reached the Autumn Palace. The moonrise cast a glow on the red and orange leaves, and I couldn’t help but feel we were like moths inside a lantern. Trapped.

I had wondered if we would arrive before Edan changed. I could tell he was about to—the yellow in his eyes grew brighter as the moon overthrew the sun. But as soon as we reached the palace gates, the glow in his eyes dimmed.

“Tell His Majesty that his Lord Enchanter and imperial tailor have returned,” Edan commanded the guard.

The great red gates before us creaked open, and we dismounted. Edan took a deep breath. Suddenly he looked fuller, taller.

He opened his palm, and there was a blue wildflower for me, like the ones he’d given me in the Mountains of the Moon. “This one won’t wither.”

I wouldn’t take it. “I like the old ones,” I replied. I’d pressed them in my sketchbook.

Edan nodded mutely, and the flower disappeared. The gates were open wide enough now for me to see the gardens inside. Shadows flickered. The last few moments Edan and I were free.

“I’ll try to see you whenever I can,” he said. “I can’t promise it’ll be often. Khanujin won’t be pleased that I’ve been gone so long. He’ll keep me by his side.”

Before I could reply, Minister Lorsa arrived to escort us into the Autumn Palace. From his expression of surprise, I knew he’d expected me to fail.

I wished I had.

Lorsa folded his arms, his bright blue sleeves billowing behind him as he set off at a brisk pace. It was like that first day I’d arrived at the Summer Palace. Lorsa’s clothes were the same, and the same jade pendant and giant red tassel swung from his sash. Only this time, I didn’t try to keep up with him. This time, I hobbled and took my time, considering it a small victory whenever Lorsa stopped to wait for me.

I immediately hated the Autumn Palace. I missed the gold roofs and vermillion columns of the Summer Palace, the brilliant gardens and the smell of jasmine and plum blossoms. Yes, the trees here burned a lurid riot of colors even in lantern light, and the stone floors were awash with golden leaves, freshly fallen—but the air smelled stale, like damp ink. There were no dragonflies or butterflies, no larks or swallows. Only a thin mist that cloaked the earth, as if readying it for a deep, long sleep.

To my surprise, we saw Lady Sarnai in one of the gardens. She betrayed no reaction when she noticed us, but she rose, her skirts blooming as she stood, and stared at something far off in the corner—as if she, too, would rather be anywhere but here.

Minister Lorsa ushered us into the emperor’s private chambers. The doors were painted with red-eyed lions that made me shudder and think of Bandur. Inside, Emperor Khanujin awaited us, a deep blue veil obscuring his face. Once Lorsa had left, he lifted it.

Edan had told me that the emperor relied on his magic to enhance his appearance, but still it shocked me how different he looked now. The real emperor was unimposing, shorter and less muscular than I remembered, with a weak mouth and small, merciless black eyes.

Trying not to stare at him, I fell to my knees as Edan bowed at my side.