Both Baba and I stiffen. On the far side of the room, Tien’s fur bristles, a murderous look entering her eyes. For the first time I wish what she told me about her being a descendant of legendary warriors were true.
The General’s fingers flex on the hilt of his sword. “Yet,” he continues to the sniggers of his two soldiers, “you’ve at least had the help of your daughter. And she is a particularly… lucky girl from what the rumors say.” His voice drops, just a whisper now but dangerous and bone-deep, every word clear in the hush. “Well, old man? May I see if the rumors are true? Will you show us this daughter of yours with paper skin and the stolen eyes of a demon?”
“The—the errand,” my father starts in a desperate tone, but the soldiers are already moving forward.
“The girl is the errand,” the General growls.
And lunges for me.
Everything happens at once—Tien’s cry, Baba throwing me back, shouting, “Run!”
I spin on my heel as the General bounds onto the counter, shattering it beneath his weight.
There’s a scream. Sounds of customers scrambling to get away. A tiger’s deep-throated snarl. I lurch forward, making for the archway at the back of the shop, and dive through just as the General tears aside the beaded curtain.
Beads scatter everywhere. My feet skid, one sandal coming loose. But it’s the sandal the General has grabbed for, and I crawl back to my feet, dashing down the corridor, hands flying out to brace myself as I take the turns flying.
The back of our house is narrow. The General’s crashes and grunts fall behind me as he struggles to navigate the tight corners. Breathless, I race out into the golden blare of the lowering sun, leaping blindly down the steps of the porch.
A flock of birds scatter in a flurry of startled wing-flaps. I make it to the wall at the end of the garden just as a roar behind me tells me the General has made it out of the house. Using the web of leaves that cover the wall, I climb up, messily but fast. Vines slash my hands. Puffing, my palms crisscrossed red, I reach the top, hook an arm over, and hiss through my teeth as I pull, pull, pull—
Hands, on my legs.
I cling to the wall, but General Yu is too strong. I drop back, a hiss of air escaping my lips as I smash onto the ground.
In a second, the General is upon me.
“No!” I yell. I thrash against his ironlike grip, but he swipes me up easily, throwing me over his shoulder, and strides back to the house.
My head cracks against a wall as he squeezes through the narrow corridors. The world turns fuzzy. I catch a glimpse of the main shop room as we pass through: the broken counter, herbs strewn across the floor, pale faces peering from corners. Then we’re outside.
I twist round to see where the General is taking me. A little way down the street is a large carriage, two horses strapped to its front. They’re enormous, bigger than any breed I have seen, with wild eyes and foaming mouths, heads enclosed in metal muzzles. Two more are roped to the carriage on either side, I assume for the General’s men.
“Lei!” comes a shout.
I crane my head round to see my father and Tien by the front of the shop. The lizard and tiger soldiers are holding them back.
“Baba!” I cry. There’s blood on his brow.
His neck is strained, face flushed as he struggles to get free. “General Yu!” he calls after us. “Please, tell us what you want with my daughter!”
The lizard-man spits in his face. “What do you think he wants, old man?”
“Now, now, Sith,” General Yu says. “You know it’s not like that.” Slowly, he turns and lowers me to the ground, clutching me to his side so tightly his fingers pinch my flesh through my clothes. “I am merely collecting your daughter for delivery,” he tells my father. “I heard rumors of her pretty eyes and thought she would make the perfect gift for our Heavenly Master.”
Baba’s face falls. “You—you can’t mean…”
“You should be smiling, old man. The girl is to become what so many in our kingdom dream for their own daughters. She’ll live in the Hidden Palace of Han. Lead a privileged life of service to our gracious leader… outside of and in the royal bed.”
Tien goes still.
“No,” my father breathes.
The General gives my hair a ruffle. “Your own daughter, a Paper Girl. I bet you never dreamed you’d be so fortunate.”
Paper Girl.
The phrase hangs in the air. It feels wrong, all angular and edges that don’t fit together, because surely it can’t be. Not a Paper Girl. Not me.
Before I can say anything, the sound of barking makes us all look round. A tiny figure sprints down the street toward us on stubby legs—white fur, gray spots.
My stomach drops. “Bao,” I croak. Then, louder, “Bao! Inside, now!”
As usual, he ignores my orders. He skitters to a stop in front of us and sinks down on his front legs, baring his teeth.
The General smiles back, revealing his own.
“Hello, little one,” he murmurs. He peers down his muzzled nose at Bao, who is skittering on his paws at the General’s hooved feet, which are almost bigger than Bao himself and mounted with thick copper plates that look as though they could crush even a human skull in one stamp. “Have you come to say good-bye to your friend?”
He reaches out. Growling, Bao snaps at his hand.
The General’s eyes cut to the lizard-form soldier as he withdraws. “Sith. Help him, would you?”
The reptile smirks. “Of course, General.”
He reaches for the sword at his belt. There’s the cry of steel, the flash of a blade through the air. In one fluid movement, Sith lunges forward and drives the point of his sword into Bao’s belly. Then he raises the blade toward me, and my dog with it.
It’s as though the world had suddenly tilted off-kilter. The ground, shifted. My heartbeat goes jagged, and it’s as if I were floating, rising up and away from everything as, at the same time, everything spiraled closer toward me.
Bile lurches up my throat.
Bao.
Bao—who hasn’t yet made a sound. For one desperate moment I convince myself that he’s all right. That somehow his belly is hollow and the sword has lanced nothing but empty air, and in a minute he’ll hop to the floor and wag his tail, run to Baba for treats, dance circles around Tien’s legs. Life will be normal again, and this awful nightmare will be just that: a nightmare.
Something to wake from. To escape.
But then Bao begins to twitch and whimper. Blood wells at his wound. It runs down the blade, thick and dark, pooling around Sith’s scaled fingers, where they grip the lacquered bone hilt.
“Better say good-bye, girl,” the lizard hisses to me. A forked tongue skates over his lips. “This is the last you’ll see of your family. And if you don’t come quietly, this’ll be how your father will end up, too, and that ugly old lynx-woman. Is that what you want?”
I wrench my gaze to where Baba and Tien are struggling against the tiger soldier’s hold. My eyes meet my father’s. I give him a half smile, and he stills, face slackening with something like hope.
“I love you,” I whisper. Just as understanding sparks in his gaze, I turn to General Yu. I force out a deep exhale, blinking back tears. “I’ll come quietly,” I tell him.