Though still in her bathrobe and only half made up, Wren looks striking. Her cheeks have been colored a deep plum shade that brings out the dark sheen of her eyes and lips, and her hair cascades over one shoulder in flowing waves. She picks up the hem of her bathrobe as she steps inside. My eyes are drawn to the movement, and I do a double take.
Wren’s feet are worn, their soles hard and calloused. They’re more like my own feet. Workers’ feet. Not the delicate kind you’d expect from the pampered daughter of the Hannos.
Catching me looking, she releases her robe and the hem drops to the floor.
“Right,” Chiho says to Lill. “Let’s continue.”
Wren avoids my gaze as she kneels in front of me. I fight the childish urge to shout at her, to make her look at me. I remember what Aoki told me about Wren being aware of people hating her. Well, she isn’t exactly helping the matter, is she?
It takes an hour for Chiho and Lill to finish with our faces. Coated with polish, my eyelids and lips are sticky. The first thing I do when they step back is lift a hand to rub my eyes, causing Lill to have a mini panic attack and assess closely for damage, even though I hadn’t touched them yet.
Chiho circles me, making one final inspection. “Good,” she says eventually, and Lill beams.
My eyes cut to Wren, who still hasn’t said anything all this time. As she gets up to leave, I lift my chin and blurt out brusquely, “Well? How do I look?”
I want to take it back immediately—I sound petulant and stupid, and I’m not even sure why I care about her opinion. But Wren has already stopped. She glances over her shoulder, dark eyes under heavily glossed lids finally meeting mine. “Like you’re not ready,” she says bluntly, her face expressionless, before following Chiho out of the room.
Her words sting. I look away, my cheeks glowing.
Lill leaves the room, returning a few minutes later with a silk-wrapped package. “Your dress,” she announces, almost reverently, as she hands it to me. “The royal tailors were given the results of your assessments and told to create unique pieces for each of you. It’s meant to be a statement to the court about who you are. Something to give the King an idea about what you’re like.” She beams. “Go on, Mistress! Open it!”
Rolling my eyes at her excitement, I pull aside the folds of silk. There’s the wink of metallic silver. Carefully, I lift the dress out and lay it on the floor.
It’s the most exquisite dress I have ever seen. Not that that’s hard—I haven’t seen many. But even including the outfits the other girls wore on the first night at the palace, this one outshines them all. Cut long and slender, sleeveless, with a high collar, silver threads woven through flicker like running water when they catch the light. The delicate silk fabric is almost sheer. A scattering of moonstones, and diamonds wind along the hips and chest.
I stare down at myself, my belly doing a low flop. Just a handful of these jewels would be enough to support my family for life.
Lill lets out a squeal so high-pitched it almost shatters my eardrums. “Oh, it’s so beautiful! Try it on, Mistress!”
Many awkward wiggling movements later, the cheongsam—as I know now this modern style of dress is called—is on. It fits perfectly, clinging to my frame like a second skin. Despite the jewels, the material is light, mere brushings of gossamer across my skin. Magic thrums in the fabric. Whatever enchantment has been placed on the dress also makes it glow. Every movement I make sends out scatters of silvery light, as pale as moonbeams.
I raise a brow at Lill’s expression. “This is the first time you’ve not had anything to say.”
She giggles. “Better enjoy it, Mistress! I don’t know how long it’ll last.”
After a final once-over, we head through Paper House to its main entrance, where the procession will start. Though the dress fits perfectly, less perfect is my ability to move in it, and it takes me a while to get used to wearing something this formfitting. Not to mention, it feels so expensive I’m worried about damaging it; every table corner glints threateningly. As the muffled buzz of voices and music outside grows louder, my heart thuds harder. Maids bow as I pass, some holding up good-luck offerings of red flowers, others sprinkling salt in my path, a custom I’ve never seen before. We would never waste salt in my house like this.
When we’re almost at the entrance, I spot the familiar blaze of auburn hair. “Aoki!” I call, and she turns, breaking into a grin.
“Lei! Oh, you—you look…” Something shifts in her tone, a twist of envy. One hand fingers the collar of her own dress as her gaze travels slowly down mine.
“You look amazing!” I say quickly. “What a beautiful ruqun.” I look it over appreciatively. The layered sheets of material are shimmery and light, decorated with patterns of leaves in thick brushstrokes. When I run my fingers over them, the leaves seem to ripple, swirling as if in a wind. More magic.
She tucks her chin, lashes low. “They say they’re designed to reflect our personalities. It sounds silly, but as soon as I put it on, I felt like I was home. Like I have a part of the countryside with me. But you…” She reaches for my dress, then stops short. “You look like a queen.”
Her words send a shudder through me. That’s the last thing I want to look like. I think of Baba and Tien. What would they say if they saw me in this dress, my face and hair decorated even more elaborately than our entire village during New Year celebrations?
If I were a queen, then that would mean I would belong in the palace. And I don’t.
As Aoki and I walk down the last few corridors together, the sound of cheering grows so loud now it vibrates in my rib cage. We step out onto the porch into sunlight and a clapping crowd. The streets around Paper House are packed. My breath hitches. I’ve never been in the midst of so many people—let alone Steel and Moon castes, all crammed together—and even though their applause and shouts are friendly, the sheer number of them makes me uneasy.
Along one of the streets, the crowd is parting to let through a train of ornate carriages carried by muscled oryx-form demons in red and black robes. The King’s colors. Aoki nudges me excitedly as they advance. Wind flutters the ribbons draped over their open sides. Every step they take makes the bells hanging from their horns sing.
They come to a stop in front of Paper House. Madam Himura moves forward, shouting to be heard over the noise. “Presenting Mistress Aoki-zhi of Shomu!”
A servant comes to take Aoki to her carriage. She gives me a quick look—her jade-stone eyes gleaming, whether from excitement or fear I can’t tell—and our fingers brush before she’s led away.
Next, Madam Himura calls Blue, then Chenna. All too soon it’s my turn.
I stumble forward, head low against the stare of the crowd. With a bow, the oryx drop to their knees. A servant helps me up into the lowered palanquin. The interior reminds me of the carriage I traveled in with General Yu, with its plush, perfumed cushions and elegant wood paneling. As I settle on the bench, my breath grows tighter. That carriage stole me away from my home—what kind of life am I about to be led into with this journey? In this beautiful cheongsam, being carried on the backs of demons, I feel like a dish being served for the King’s dinner, and a shiver runs down my spine.