The warmth Lill’s letter gave me has all but dried up now.
I twine my hands in my lap and press my cheek closer to the window—not that I want to look at the blur of demon faces passing by. Their noise is a wave, seeming to batter the palanquin even though our carriers hold us steady. Along with the crushed-cherry sunset, it only serves to remind me of what I just saw.
What I was made to watch.
“Didn’t fancy volunteering this time, hmm?” Madam Himura asks, sly.
I grit my teeth, trying to block out the images. The King’s wicked grin. Naja and five guards, raising their blades. Crimson bursts and the slump of six bodies falling in unison. The wild sound of the audience, eager for blood, or perhaps just for blood that isn’t theirs, grateful each time the King punishes another because it means they have been spared.
Another execution. And this time, no Wren to comfort me. No secret fingers woven through mine. No hidden white offerings or furtive sky salute.
From my place at the King’s side, I could practically smell the terror of the demons as they were forced to their knees before us. Even with their faces half covered by the blank, flesh-colored masks customary for court executions, their fear—and defiance—was evident. One of them, a boar-woman who ran a stall in City Court that made the best cendol in the palace, shouted out after the King called for the guards to ready their weapons. A desperate cry of The gods see the truth! before the plunge of a sword silenced her.
“I doubt they did it.”
Madam Himura’s tone is goading. Heat rises in me, but I hold it down.
“Not that it matters,” she goes on, pressing, pushing, fingers in a wound. “If they incited enough suspicion for the Heavenly Master to have them executed, the palace is better off without them. And yet. Simple restaurant and shop owners from City Court. How would they have had the resources to pull off such an attack? No,” she says. “Something like that would have been well coordinated. Part of a larger plan. It would have come from within the court. Demons with power. Connections.” She clicks her beak. “I’ve been wondering about that smug Night House mistress for a while now.”
“Oh?” I say. “Then perhaps I’d better tell the King. He should know he made a mistake with today’s execution—and that you are the one to accuse him.”
Madam Himura’s eagle eyes flare. She looks as if she is considering reaching for my neck.
How easy it would be for either of us. I wonder if this is part of the King’s twisted punishment. Every day, be near those you hate without being able to do a thing about it, and be close to those you love now they do not love you anymore.
The crowds of the Outer Courts disappear as we return to the heart of the palace, shadows deepening as the sun dips behind the palace walls.
Tonight’s celebratory banquet—because of course, an execution is to be celebrated—is being held in a garden in Royal Court. A perfectly trimmed lawn stretches to high stone walls trailing with wisteria and roses, their red buds like gaping wounds. A servant welcomes me as I step out into the dusky spring eve. Under a canopy of magically suspended lanterns, demons swill about, their idle chatter abrasive after the scene we just left.
“Stand up straight,” Madam Himura hisses at me. “Honestly, did you learn nothing from Mistress Eira and I?”
“I learned about cruelty,” I say. “And betrayal. I learned how some people, weak people, will do anything for a bit of power or comfort, even if they have to trample over others to get it.”
And for once, it’s Madam Himura who looks as though she’s been slapped.
While she gapes at me in offense, Commander Razib approaches. “Lei-zhi. Madam Himura. This way.”
We cross the busy lawn to an emerald pagoda at the far side of the garden. Conversation drifts under the pipes and flowing urhu music. Most is the usual court chitchat that accompanies these events: plum-wine stock discussions between two financial advisers; an official’s wife simpering to her counterpart, Oh, you must visit the lotus ponds in Marazi, they’re simply stunning this time of year! But halfway across the lawn, my ears snag on hushed tones so clearly out of place.
“You heard what happened to the Hua-lings?”
“Terrible, just terrible. As with General Brahm’s and Councilor Lee’s families in the eastern Xienzo uprising. Poor Councilor Lee has been inconsolable ever since. He wasn’t even at the execution today. Faked sickness, I’m assuming, though gods forbid word gets back to the King. So many good demons lost.”
“And how many more until the King takes action?”
“Hush! You cannot talk like that, Yong. Not here…”
I spot the retreating backs of two low-level court officials. Madam Himura glares after them, no doubt making a mental note of their names.
“What eastern Xienzo uprising?” I ask her.
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“It’s my province. Of course it concerns me.”
“Han is your province.”
“Han is nothing to me.”
In a whirl of feathers, Madam Himura drags me into the shadows of a nearby magnolia tree, bringing our faces so close my startled reflection is mirrored in her glassy yellow eyes.
“Listen to me, girl,” she snarls, her rancid breath hitting me full force. “You think you are so powerful now you’ve gained a touch of status in the court? Well, enjoy your snappy remarks. At the end of the day, we both know how little it means. Once the war is over, this Moonchosen charade will be done with, and the King will cast you aside like the worthless keeda you are.”
“You should know,” I shoot back, “given how easily he cast you aside.”
Madam Himura seems to double in size as her feathers stand on end. “The King still needed me enough to keep me in the court. What do you think happened to Mistress Eira, stupid girl? She was executed. What else?” For a second, her fearsome look falters. That tiredness I saw in her when we first met after my return reappears behind her composed exterior. Then her beaked face twists back into its ugly sneer. “Mistress Eira’s position in the court was expendable—just as yours will be. So go ahead. Spout witty comebacks. Be proud of your kin’s pathetic uprisings. For every handful of demons Papers manage to kill, we will tear down a thousand more of you.” She rakes a taloned finger along my brow. “There will be no need for Doctor Uo this time. When the King is done with you, I’ll personally inscribe your brand myself. You’re more than rotten, girl—you are rot. You have brought poison into this palace. You have destroyed everything.”