“Oh!” she cries, dropping to the floor in a low bow. “General Yu!”
He barely looks at her. “Fetch Mistress Eira,” he commands.
The girl bounces to her feet at once, scuttling back inside the house. Her bun of hair bobs like a doe’s stubbed tail, as though trying to help her appear more demon than she is.
I peer after her. Past the doorway, a flight of stairs leads up to a lantern-lit corridor. Voices float down from the rooms beyond, and the air is warm, tea-scented. There’s something so welcoming about the house that for a second it’s easy to imagine myself walking inside to find Tien and Baba and Bao. The pain is so sharp then that I have to dig my fingernails into my palms just to feel something else.
This is not my home.
Nowhere else ever will be.
We’ve only been waiting a few minutes before the young girl reappears at the top of the steps, this time with a tall woman at her side.
“Thank you, Lill,” the woman says, and the girl scurries off.
The Paper woman turns to us. There’s a pause as her eyes settle on me, and then she begins to make her way down the staircase. She moves impossibly lightly, a grace even to how she holds the hem of her plum-colored silk robes—the most exquisite I have seen in my life. They drape round her slim form effortlessly, pattered with silver embroidery and held together at her waist by a wide band of fabric. It’s this that jolts my memory to Tien showing me drawings one of our customers once gifted her. The illustrations reflected the styles of women’s clothing favored by the central provinces. If I’m remembering correctly, these types of robes are a specific style of hanfu originally worn by the aristocracy of northeastern Shomu.
At the bottom of the stairs, she bows. “General Yu.” She stays just beyond the doorway, under the shelter of the house. Her jet-black eyes shine with intelligence, and a serene smile touches her lips. Instincts tell me that this woman was once a Paper Girl herself. Though she looks in her early forties, the bronzed skin stretched over her high cheekbones is as smooth and poreless as a young girl’s.
The General inclines his head. “Mistress Eira. I apologize for coming to Women’s Court and disturbing you without forewarning. But this matter couldn’t wait.” He pushes me forward. “May I present Lei-zhi.”
The woman’s gaze flicks to me at his use of this suffix. She turns back to the General, a hint of something hard-edged in her smile. “How strange that you give her the Paper Girl title,” she says, still smiling calmly. “The girls arrived a couple of hours ago—I was just entertaining them myself. Last time I checked, all eight were present.”
“I’m aware this is unusual,” the General says quickly. “But I hope you’ll agree it’s for a worthy cause. When I found the girl, and saw how striking her beauty was, I dropped everything to bring her to the palace.”
“I assure you, General, our girls are more than striking enough for the King.” Folding her palms at her waist, Mistress Eira gives a short bow. “Now, I really must return—”
A bit too roughly, the General seizes my cheeks. He wrests my face up so that light from the stairwell catches my eyes.
Gold upon gold.
She was already half turning away, but in an instant Mistress Eira freezes. Her lips part, and then she presses them firmly closed. Her eyes don’t leave mine as she steps in close. Delicate perfume lifts from her skin; rosewater and the sweetly spiced scent of neroli. I blink the water from my eyelashes, trying to keep my gaze steady as she regards me properly for the first time.
“Heavens’ blessings, those eyes…” Mistress Eira glances at General Yu. “She really is pure Paper?”
“I assure you, Mistress, her blood is human.”
“Her parents?”
“Herb-shop owners from western Xienzo.”
“So she has no experience with the court?”
“Unfortunately, not. But she can learn fast. The girl is used to hard work. And look at how striking she is even now, dressed so plainly. Imagine the transformation once you and Madam Himura have worked on her. Once she has been educated in the ways of women.” The General’s tone turns silky. “And I’m sure you don’t need me to remind you of our King’s superstitious nature. Imagine how appreciative he might be to receive a girl who is as much a symbol of the heavens’ good fortune as one of beauty. It could be the much-needed boost of confidence he needs. Given everything we’ve been facing lately…” He trails off, and the two of them share a pointed look.
The idea of the Demon King lacking confidence is so opposite to how I’ve been imagining him. I want to ask more about what things exactly the court has been facing lately, but Mistress Eira’s focus pins me in place.
“It’s as if Ahla herself smiled down from the heavens as you were born,” she muses. It’s something I’ve heard before; many people believe the Moon Goddess had a hand in coloring my eyes. Mistress Eira gives me a gentle smile. “Lei,” she asks, “are you sure you are ready for the life of a Paper Girl?”
Behind her, the General’s eyes fix on me. I remember his words in the carriage earlier. Their blood will be here. Do you understand me? On your hands.
Tien’s face, my father’s come to my mind. The way they looked when the General thrust me into the carriage. The way they would look if I gave him reason to act out his threat. Tears prick my eyes. I force out this gruesome image and instead picture them smiling, working, laughing, living.
There is only one answer I can give if I want that for them. So I offer it, even though it breaks my heart, pushing the word from my tongue like a stone.
“Yes.”
I knew it even earlier, at the dock in Noei and on the boat to Han, and maybe even before then, from the minute General Yu’s eyes met mine in the shop. It was pointless to hope for a different outcome. And, even though it’s the slimmest of chances, at least being here in the palace means I might find out what happened to my mother.
Still. The word leaves a bitter flavor in my mouth. It tastes like failure.
Like betrayal.
I swallow it down as Mistress Eira smiles, draping an arm across my back.
“Thank you, General,” she tells him. “You were right to bring Lei here. I’ll introduce her to Madam Himura right away. Hopefully her reaction will be as positive as mine. We’ll be sure to make it known to the King that Lei comes as your personal gift.” Bowing one last time, she ushers me into the house.
Before she shuts the door, I look back at the General. His smirk is wider than I’ve seen it, his eyes bright with triumph.
Mistress Eira leads me to a small, windowless room and asks me to wait, leaving me standing awkwardly in the middle of the floor. Water drips from my soaked clothes onto the polished teak boards. I smooth my hands over my matted hair, trying—and failing—to slow my heart. Even after the long journey here, it doesn’t feel real. I’m in the royal palace.
In one of its buildings, the King is waiting.
I don’t know when I’ll be introduced to him—the horror hits me that it could be tonight—and the palace is so vast he’s not likely to be close by. Still, there’s something intimate about it, to be inside the palace walls. Perhaps even in a building he’s been in once before.