Magic grazes my skin as I pass through. I’ve seen enough beautiful locations in the palace that I’m rarely taken aback by a new setting, but what waits beyond is so gorgeous and unexpected I can’t help but falter.
At first, I think we must have stepped through some portal that has transported us to the gardens of the Floating Hall—the place where, on New Year’s Eve, I tried to kill the King. Then I realize the room has only been enchanted to look that way. The floor is not a real lily pond, but a mimicry of one, ripples spreading underfoot. Garlands of caught fireflies and leaves drip from the walls and colonnades. The night sky has been re-created overhead, complete with scudding clouds and the passing skim of birds. Even the air is fragranced. It’s balmy and sweet, just as it was the night of the Moon Ball.
A beautiful lie. That’s what the King called me then. Now here we are, in a beautiful—not to mention elaborate, and specific—lie of his own creation.
There are sounds of awe as the other girls enter, filing out on either side of me.
“Oh, it’s stunning!” Zhen gasps.
“How lovely!” Zhin coos.
Then a whisper from the girl beside me: “Father.”
I catch the stunned look on Blue’s face before following her stare to the far side of the room where a raised podium lines the wall. The King sits in the center on his golden throne, backed by guards. Beside him kneels Naja, along with a few high-ranking court members—Mistress Azami among them. At the end of the podium is a short, graying Paper man I take to be Blue’s father, given he’s the only human in the room besides us.
The King beckons us with a lazy wave. “Come.”
The clunk of the guards’ steps is loud in comparison to the soft brush of our satin slippers, our long skirts trailing the waterlike floor as we approach the podium. It’s then I notice the shamans. They line each side of the room, half hidden by the columns. Their presence strikes me as odd; usually shamans weave their decorative magic before an event. Could the Sickness have worsened, making it harder for their enchantments to last? Or is there another reason they’re here?
Blue’s father. The shamans. The way the room has been made to imitate the gardens where I tried to kill the King.
My unease spikes. Nothing the court does is accidental.
“Welcome, girls,” the King drawls as we bow before the podium. His tone sharpens. “Lei-zhi. Join us.”
I mount the steps, every eye on me. I have to pass Mistress Azami to reach the King, and when I do she shoots me the briefest of cautionary looks. In front of the others, we can’t communicate any more without giving ourselves away, and my mind whirrs to decode her silent warning as I reach the King’s throne.
He points at his feet. “Kneel. Face your… friends.”
The girls look so vulnerable from here, as if the fake flooded floor could swallow them any moment. Blue’s eyes are still trained on her father. Aoki gazes over my head at the King, her face hopeful, vying for his attention.
The King stands over me, casting me in his shadow. “It is tradition,” he begins, “among demon clans to partake in a gift-giving ceremony the night before a wedding. The future husband and future wife offer each other five gifts, each representative of one of the core elements. Wood, fire, metal, water, earth. These are the elements that are the foundation of our world, and so, too, do they form the foundation of a successful marriage.”
Relief cascades through me. Presents. Gifts. That’s really all this is.
“As is customary for the groom,” the King explains, moving along the podium to the steps at its end, “I shall offer my gifts to Lei-zhi first.”
Each hoof-beat is a heavy, threatening thud. He makes his way toward the girls, and my eyes scan the room, confused, waiting for a servant to appear with the King’s presents.
None come.
The King stops beside Zhen.
She looks up at him, brow creasing. “Heavenly Master…?”
He leans down, tucking his hand under her chin. “Lovely Zhen,” he murmurs. “Noble. Imaginative. Features as perfect as a wooden carving itself.” He moves to her sister. “Graceful Zhin. Energetic. Intense. Like the dancing flames of fire.”
When the King reaches next for Blue, she jerks away, and from the end of the podium I hear a man hiss, “Still this. The stupid girl.”
Blue’s father.
I feel a dash of pity for Blue before pride replaces it. She’s leveled her coldest glare on the King, derision etching her features, though I can see she’s trembling even from here. The King seizes her cheeks, yanking her so hard she’s half lifted from her knees.
“Blue.” He speaks her name as though it taints his tongue. “What else for a girl like you—so rigid, so willful—apart from metal?”
He casts her down. The slap of her hands against the floor as she catches herself is harsh in the silence.
The King moves on. “Chenna.”
My friend remains composed, even as he grazes his furred fingers down her cheek and over the dark blush of her lips. “Wise, mindful Chenna. A calm ocean surface masking turbulent depths.”
I want to scream out, run forward, and shove the King away. But dread locks me in place.
The look on Aoki’s face when the King finally reaches her. If I had any breath left, this would be what steals the last of it.
“My King,” she murmurs, in the bared, reverential tone of lovers. “Please…”
The King holds her gentler than the others. Tears stream down her cheeks as he brings his face lower, close enough they could kiss, slipping his fingers through her hair then along her jawline, to trail a tender line down to her throat. “Sweet Aoki.”
She lets out a whimper, a whipped-puppy noise. At first, I don’t understand what’s wrong, because their pose is so intimate and the King doesn’t seem to have moved. Then I see her eyes bulge. Her tears come harder, cheeks flushing violet, and I realize with a sickening lurch the King’s hand has tightened around her neck.
“Sweet Aoki,” he repeats. “Honest. Loyal. You have upheld your earth roots this long, at least.”
I am on my feet in a second. Before I can jump from the podium, guards restrain me. I scream and thrash as they force me back to my knees, and then something else grips me, trapping me in place.
Magic.
A pair of the shamans have prowled forward, arms thrust out. My yells die in my throat.
The King rears back from Aoki so abruptly she drops to the floor. Chenna grabs her, drawing her sobbing form close. She looks up at the King with unleashed fierceness as he turns his horned head to me.
“Well, Lei-zhi. How do you like your presents?”
A wild rage burns me. But I’m locked by magic. I can watch uselessly as the King returns to my side. He flicks a hand—so horribly careless a movement to what it pertains—and five of the guards that had been flanking the podium fan out, each one positioning themselves behind one of the girls.
The metallic shing of five blades being drawn echoes out. And suddenly, everything makes sense.
The way the room has been made up to remind me of the night I tried to triumph over the King—and failed. The presence of Blue’s father. The shamans, here not for their decorative skills but as weapons. And the Paper Girls.