The moment so many things changed.
“All court members carry a dagger like this one,” Kenzo says. He holds it out for me to examine. “Including the King.”
I finger the edge of the blade. The thought of it piercing the King’s skin—digging in through muscle and tendon, spilling blood—seems unreal, something out of a dream.
Stowing the dagger, Kenzo steps back. “Take it from me,” he says, and splays his arms.
My first few attempts are pitiful. I comprehend now just how easy Wren was being on me. Kenzo offers no such exemptions. He bats me roughly away every time I get close and attacks back at a relentless pace. In just a few minutes I’m sweating despite the cold, my panting breaths fogging the air. I can feel bruises beginning to flower under my skin.
“Maybe you were right,” he says after my latest attempt has me sprawled on the ground where he threw me—and not lightly.
I clamber to my feet, massaging the cramp in my side. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe it is hopeless. We should have asked one of the other girls. Any of them would do a better job than you.”
“I know what you’re doing,” I shoot back.
He cocks his head. “Whatever do you mean?”
“Wren got me fired up, too. But at least she did it with kisses.”
Something twitches across his lips. “Would that work?”
I grin, half manic with exhaustion, and he returns it, his wolfish mouth widening, until both of us break into laughter, Kenzo with his head thrown back and me doubled over, clutching my belly. The noise is jagged and wild in the wintry hush of the forest. We laugh harder than his joke warrants. Tears fill my eyes, and suddenly I’m not laughing anymore. When Kenzo sees this, he hesitates, a tender look crossing his eyes, and it’s this that reminds me so strongly of Wren—of the way she looks at me right before a kiss, or right after, open and vulnerable and full of hope—that before I even realize what I’m doing I’m lurching forward.
Kenzo reacts a second too slow. For the first time, my hands make contact. I push him back, clinging onto his rough fur as he grabs my collar to prize me off. With a grimace, I butt the heel of my right hand into his neck. At the same time, I bring my knee between his legs, and as he slackens, I tug aside his robes and wrap my fingers round the hilt of the knife.
I tumble off him, laughing again now, holding the blade up to the sky. “I did it!” I shout. My voice breaks. I swipe a sleeve across my face, and though the tears don’t stop, I keep laughing anyway, the knife lifted high in my shaking fist. “I—I did it.”
Kenzo gives me a half smile just as humorless as my laughter. “Yes. You did.” His furred hand wrapping around my own, he brings the point of the blade to rest at the soft underbelly of his neck. “But do not forget the last part. Right here, Lei. This is where you aim tomorrow.” He squeezes my fingers, the engraved edges of the jade hilt digging into my skin. “Push the blade deep, and do not stop.”
THIRTY-FOUR
THE EVE OF THE NEW YEAR, the palace is transformed. Decorations have been going up in all the courts. I’m kept busy as a small army of maids prepare me for the ball, but Lill manages to sneak me outside for a few minutes to see what’s been going on. A tidal wave of scarlet and gold appears to have stormed through the palace. Women’s Court is on fire, vibrant ribbons and streamers adorning every building. Lanterns of all shapes and sizes hang from the eaves, along with strings of copper coins, glinting as they turn in the breeze. Bowls of offerings filled with kumquats and stacks of succulent peaches and clementines sit on porches. Cracked mirrors to ward off evil spirits have been set beside every doorway, a New Year’s superstition that we also followed back in Xienzo.
Lill tells me the King lent royal shamans to each court to infuse magic into some of the decorations. She points out a giant paper crane, symbolic of good fortune and longevity, that has been erected in a courtyard across the street. The bird is at least fifteen feet tall. Its garnet beak glitters in the winter sun. As we watch, it stretches its great wings, paper feathers rustling.
I lace my arm round her shoulders and smile down at her. My eyes sting. I blink quickly to keep the tears away. “Thank you, Lill,” I say thickly. “For everything.”
The smile she returns me is so wide and trusting I have to look away.
Over the next few hours, I, like the palace, am also transformed. My body is polished and oiled with an amberlike liquid containing flecks of gold that catch the light with every movement. Kohl rims my eyes, artfully smudged with bronze shadow; shimmering pearl-powder embellishes my cheeks. A pale paint is swept over my lips, enhancing the brightness of my irises. It’s like putting on a mask, each dab of color, each stroke of a brush, and I imagine the paint as armor. My battle gear.
As they work, I visualize adding other, hidden layers onto my armor—all the reasons I am doing this.
What happened to Mama. What has happened to other mothers, other women and men and children of raids just like the one on my village. My love for Wren. My love for Aoki and even the other girls, and the hope that this can bring all of us freedom, along with every Paper caste slave. The executed assassins. On my second night in the palace, the woman who screamed at me a word I’ve been unable to forget since.
Dzarja.
It’s not my own kin who I’ll be betraying tonight.
And then, of course, the final reason: a night, just a few weeks ago.
A night I will never allow to be repeated.
Once my makeup is complete, the maids arrange my hair into a plaited bun at the nape of my neck, twined through with beads and tiny yellow chrysanthemums, before dressing me in a vivid red cheongsam with long lace sleeves. It’s so tight-fitting it pins my rib-cage in place.
I repress a mad laugh. Well, at least I’m dressed the part. Because what reputable assassin doesn’t wear perfume and a slinky dress?
By the time the maids leave, night is falling. They file out slowly. I’m about to turn away when the last girl pauses in the doorway, fiddling with the hem of her dress. I go forward to help her—it must have caught on something—but as I bend down she pushes something into my palm.
“Good luck, Lei,” she whispers, pewter eyes meeting mine. She bows and hurries away.
As soon as I’m alone, I open the silk-wrapped package. Lantern light catches on a thin blade, barely longer than a needle. Its lacquered bone has been made to look like a hair ornament. Carefully, I tuck it into the top of my thick braid with trembling fingers.
This is it, the last piece of my battle gear.
My weapon.
Before I leave, I go to the little shrine in the corner of my room and take my Birth-blessing pendant from where it’s been hanging. I loop it around my neck. It’s heavier than I remember. Just like I used to, I cup it in my palm, wondering what future it holds for me. But this time there is an additional question I’ve never had to ask myself before.
Will I even live to find out?
Aoki meets me outside Paper House. She’s also dressed in red, as is tradition for New Year celebrations, delicate robes, as thin as moth wings. Her lips look sensual painted in a dark ruby color, and she seems so far from the nervous sixteen-year-old girl I met on that first night in the palace that I have to blink back a sudden rush of tears.