Wren.
Understanding arrives then the way twilight falls: instantaneously. Just a blink, a skip in time, leaving only the before and the after, and the inescapable ripples of change.
Every lingering glance, every stolen moment watching her out of the corner of my eye clicks into place. How flustered I always feel around her. How jealous I was at the thought of her with a lover. The way watching her dance makes something inside me physically ache. And even though we’ve not spoken that much—Wren still carries herself with that infuriating aloofness that separates her from the group—Zelle is right. I can tell things about her just from the way she behaves. She’s not as unknowable as she might like to think. I’ve noticed the way she relaxes anytime we have a physical-based lesson, as though grateful for the time to move in her own body. The way she hides her nakedness in the bathing courtyard, less out of modesty but more, it seems, as a sense of maintaining the distance she has crafted between herself and the rest of us.
And I’ve noticed the way she’s begun to watch me sometimes, and how—with burning eyes.
Something I haven’t felt for a long time flutters into life in the pit of my belly. Hope. Because, maybe, Wren has already come to her understanding.
Maybe her eyes were showing me what I’m only just realizing now.
Zelle watches me patiently, her lips quirked. “See? Your body doesn’t lie. There is someone.”
Breath quiet, I palm my hands down the fabric of my skirt and answer, tentative, “But… it’s not the King.” I want to add, And it’s not a man, either, but that seems too telling.
“So?” she says. “You’re not expected to be attracted to the person you’re being forced to sleep with. Look at my clients. Most of them are government dogs.” Zelle snorts. “Sometimes literally. But every now and then, someone comes along.…” Her face glimmers with a secret memory, perhaps of kinder, less selfish hands and mouths. “You need to find ways to arouse those feelings even when you’re with someone who repulses you. It might sound impossible, but it’s actually quite simple once you know how. I’ll show you. Take off your clothes,” she commands brusquely.
Instinctively, I clasp the collar of my robes. “W-what?”
“There’s no use being coy, Nine. I work here, remember? I’ve seen it all. Besides, if you can’t undress in front of me, what hope do you have when it comes to the King?”
Her words send a shudder down my spine. Not just because of how she means it, but for the second meaning hidden within, too. Because the answer to her question is easy: none. I have no hope. No hope of being free, no hope of escaping what’s to come tonight.
But if there’s one thing palace life has taught me, it’s how to follow orders. Even if on the inside, you’re raging against them.
Chin low, I pull my sash free. Then, slowly, I draw my cotton robes off my shoulders. I stare down at the floor, feeling as exposed as I look.
“Gods,” Zelle murmurs. “That was about as sensual as a tooth extraction. You’d better watch closely.”
She casts her face to the side, her gaze blurring, unfocused. She undresses from her hanfu leisurely, and I can’t help but be amazed at the transformation in her demeanor. She becomes a woman in love. Every movement is filled with yearning. Desire in the quickening of her breaths as the robes tumble from her body; coyness in the way she catches my eyes before dropping her gaze to the floor. In her parted lips: longing.
Then she grins, and the mirage is broken.
“That was amazing,” I admit.
With a shrug, Zelle glides her robes back on, though there is real pride in her voice. “Of course it was. You wouldn’t expect anything less from the highest-paid courtesan in the palace, would you? Now, get dressed and try it again. Imagine that you’re with the person you desire. You’re undressing in front of them for the first time. How would you feel? How would they feel? Use the thought of their lust to fuel your own.”
I close my eyes and do as she says, dreaming of Wren.
Over the next few hours, Zelle teaches me more techniques for the King’s bedchamber, from ways to be touched she’s heard he likes from previous Paper Girls to exercises for me to practice to become more aware of my own sensuality. Sometimes she looks at me in a way that makes it seem like she can tell what I’m thinking about. Or, more specifically—who.
“Will we have more lessons?” I ask once the lesson is over, gathering up the hem of my robes and starting to my feet.
“Anytime the King calls for you,” Zelle replies. “Though there won’t be that much more to teach you. Like I said, it’s natural, really. You just need practice. But Madam Himura thinks there’s benefit in you all having lessons with me, and I get to take a few hours out from seeing clients.” She smiles up at me. “I’m looking forward to hearing how tonight goes, Nine. I think you’ll do well.”
Heat—and not the good kind—crawls across my skin at the thought of the King’s hands on my body. Everyone talks about our job as though it were totally normal. As though physical intimacy were something to be demanded, not offered or shared. Not with love, the way I’d dreamed of it since I was young, thinking marriage was the sweet kisses my parents shared when they thought I wasn’t looking, the way they sat side by side many nights on the back porch, in silence but somehow making the air feel full of words.
Something narrows in my throat. “I still don’t feel ready.”
“I know I’ve thrown a lot of information at you today,” Zelle says gently. “Just remember that it’s your first time. The King isn’t expecting you to be highly skilled. In fact, he’s probably looking forward to your inexperience. Many men enjoy that, taking a girl’s virginity.”
“Why?” The word comes out bitter. All the bad things in my life have happened because of men’s greed—first when they took Mama, and then when they came back seven years later for me. My voice is rough as I add, “They have all the power, anyway.”
The look Zelle gives me is sharp. “Do they? Yes, they like to think they’re in charge, ordering us around and taking women for their own whenever they fancy. But is that true power? They can take and steal and break all they want, but there is one thing they have no control over. Our emotions,” she says at my nonplussed look. “Our feelings. Our thoughts. None of them will ever be able to control the way we feel. Our minds and hearts are our own. That is our power, Nine. Never forget it.”
There’s an odd calmness to her expression, though something dark surges behind her eyes. Just as I’m about to leave, I pause, glancing back from the doorway. “About my nickname…”
Zelle nods, guessing what I’m about to ask. “I did get it from Blue. But I don’t use it in the same way.”
“How do you use it?”
She flashes her crooked smile. “As a compliment, of course.”
FIFTEEN
BACK AT PAPER HOUSE, I SPEND two uncomfortable hours being polished and plucked by a group of chattering maids before being left to soak in a bath of honeyed milk and spices. It’s supposed to soften my skin, perfume it, but it only heightens the sense that I’m some animal being prepared for a feast, and as I float in the bath, this unsettling vision hits me of the scented liquid seeping into my body through my pores, right down into my bones, until I’m nothing but fragrance and softness. As if I might disappear at the lightest touch.