The royal shamans.
Goose bumps prick across my skin. I’ve never felt magic like this.
“Shut your mouth,” General Yu commands. “It’s not womanly to stare.”
I do as he says, too awed even to be insulted by his comment. The carriage slows to a stop. There’s the squelch of footsteps in the mud. Moments later, a rap on the wood makes me start.
A round-faced bear-form guard pulls aside the cover, drops of rain nestling in the tufts of his brown fur. “General Yu! Back from Xienzo already!” He bows. “I hope the heavens smiled upon your journey.” When he lifts his head, he blinks at me, ears twitching. “If I may ask, General, who is your guest?”
“Lei-zhi is here to join the court as a Paper Girl,” the General replies with an impatient click of his tongue. “I sent two of my men ahead earlier to inform you. I assume you got the message? Or are we to be kept here waiting outside the palace like a couple of lowly street peddlers?”
The guard dips his head. “Of course not, General. One moment. Let me confirm with Gate Master Zhar.”
I watch out the window as the soldier, hunched against the rain, crosses to an outpost stationed beside a set of towering doors. The gates are set deep into the wall. To each side stand giant pecalang, the statues sometimes placed outside buildings as protection from evil spirits. Most of the pecalang in my village are small, just tokens, really, hand-sized and easily torn from their plinths in a storm. These ones are enormous. They stand imposing at over twenty feet tall, carved in the likeness of bulls, their faces contorted into snarls that seem so real they snatch my breath away. Stone hands grip flame-lit braziers. As my eyes adjust to the light, I notice more statues lined along the wall. Then I start.
Because these guards are alive.
The hairs on my arms stand up at the sight of hundreds of demons standing flank-to-flank along the perimeter of the palace. They stare fixedly ahead, swords crossed at their chests. The wet flicker of flames reflects in their eyes—demon eyes. Gazelle, snow leopard, lion, boar. So many forms I’ve never seen before, and each one Moon caste. Buffalo, wildcat, ibex, ape. Cobra, jackal, tiger, rhinoceros. So many forms I’ve never even dreamed, and the thrum of barely contained strength in each glint of tapered incisor and horn and claw.
I draw back, swallowing.
“Impressive, yes?” the General states, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. Or rather, I don’t speak because I can’t. It’s as though there were hands wrapped over my throat. As though the press of the demons were everywhere.
At a wave from the bear guard, a smaller set of doors beside the main gate draw open. The horses pull us through into a long tunnel. Its ceiling curves low, forming a cocoon of darkness. The chanting of the royal shamans echoes all around, a heavy hum in the air, the unsettling noise vibrating right down to my bones. Then everything goes silent.
There’s a flash, like lightning.
A fiery shiver explodes across my skin.
I bite back a cry. The heat is just on the edge of bearable. I spin around but can’t see anything that might be causing it. “What’s—what’s happening?” I stammer, rubbing my hands over my goose-pricked arms.
“We’re passing through the shamans’ protection,” General Yu answers. “If we are not who we say we are, this dao will reveal us to the guards inside. Only the most powerful shaman could weave magic to evade an enchantment like this. I would tell you that you get used to it, but it’s not as if you’ll ever be leaving.” The corners of his lips curve into sharp points. “Welcome to the palace, Paper Girl.”
FIVE
AS WE CLEAR THE TUNNEL, the sensation lifts, along with the uneasy silence.
My first impression of the world within the palace grounds is a smell, so sweet it makes my mouth water: night-blooming jasmine. The flowers burst in a fiery-green tangle along the walls. The familiarity of the scent shocks me, and I take in my first look at the palace, gripping the edge of the bench as I lean forward to stare out, half holding my breath.
We’re in an enormous square. Braziers illuminate the vast space, shadows deep at its edges, empty except for a guards’ pavilion and a row of stables. A couple of guards hurry over as our carriage comes to a stop. The General seems to know them well, and greets them warmly—or at least what constitutes as warmth coming from him—before we continue on.
Now that we’re actually here, a strange sense of calm starts to take over me, like a blanket laid gently over something smoldering. I angle myself at the window, trying to get a better view, but the horses pick up the pace. Everything flies by in a blur. I catch only quick glimpses of my new home. Rain-slicked cobbles. The dark rush of gardens at night. Elegant temples with furled roofs, their ornate architectural styles unfamiliar to me. We pass through small courtyards and wide, open spaces; linked squares with bridges arching over water; grand, imposing structures crafted from marble. It stuns me how vast the palace is. Not just a palace really, but a city—a labyrinth of streets, courtyards, and gardens, like the veins and arteries flowing through a giant creature with the King nestled at its core, its own living, beating heart.
I wonder if that heart is as black as I’ve been told.
After twenty minutes, the horses slow. “This is it,” General Yu announces as they draw to a halt. He leans forward to tug aside the curtain at the front of the carriage. “Women’s Court.”
Massaging the numbness in my legs, I get to my feet and step out into rain and lantern-lit darkness. We’re in what looks to be some kind of residential area. Tall walls enclose a web of streets comprised of interlocking houses and covered walkways set on raised platforms. The buildings are ornate, with dark walls of what looks like mahogany and rosewood, glossy under the downpour. Sliding bamboo screens—so delicate compared to the thick doors we have in Xienzo—reveal the backlit silhouettes of figures inside. Porches ring every house, lined with vases of white-petaled orchids and peonies.
My feet slip in the muddy earth as the General leads me down one of the unlit paths at the base of the buildings. He keeps one hand on my shoulder to stop me from bolting. Though even if I knew where to run to, I’m not sure I could. My body seems bound to some unseen current as we move through the unfamiliar space, everything cast in a dreamlike ruby haze from the red lanterns dangling from the curved eaves of buildings, like ripe fruit. Rain-dampened sounds drift out from open windows and doorways above—female voices raised in laughter, plucked zither music, lilting and beautiful.
We stop beside a servants’ entrance built into the side of a grand-looking house. The General pulls a rope, sounding a bell.
A few seconds later the door flies open. Light spills into the alley. A young girl of ten or eleven blinks out at us. She has a gentle, moonlike face and round doe eyes, her hair pulled messily back into a lopsided bun. Loose strands unwind around her long, fluted ears. They are the only part of her that suggests she’s not Paper; she’s a deer-form—Steel, but barely. Lantern light glides across her smooth human skin, a mirror of mine, and an immediate sense of kinship rushes through me. After days in the sole company of demons, I want to hug her, press her soft, bare cheek to mine.