is a loss I know even you, Mother Goddess, cannot undo. Whereas Edan…there is still hope for him.”
Then it shall be done, Amana said at last. Upon the light of the blood of stars from whence he was bound, your love shall be free.
“Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you, Mother Goddess.”
I bowed three times, pressing my forehead to the cool wooden planks of the temple floor. Then I ran down the steps, my heart heavy with Amana’s blessing and my arms spread wide with hope—that tomorrow would spin a new dawn.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
I slept past the gongs of breaking dawn, even past the toll of the regular morning bells. When Ammi burst through my door, she found me asleep atop the blankets, both feet hanging off my bed.
She shook me, hard. “Everyone’s waiting for you!” she cried, her braids whipping in agitation. “You were due at Lady Sarnai’s apartments twenty minutes ago.”
I jolted up. The first thing I saw was the red sun. It glared at me from the door Ammi had left open, casting a crimson glaze over my room, even over the breakfast tray Ammi had set on the floor hours earlier. Some soup had spilled onto the lacquered tray, and in the light it looked almost like blood.
My eyes wandered over to the dresses. The sunlight and moonlight gowns were folded into a neat stack, both ready to present to Emperor Khanujin and Lady Sarnai. But the last dress…it hung over my chair, skirts sweeping the floor.
It had to have been a dream.
“Get up. Get up.” Ammi pulled me by the arm, struggling to lift me from my bed. “At least you slept in your clothes.”
So I had. Strange, I didn’t remember putting them back on the previous night. There was a mirror on my left, long and rectangular and framed with a rosewood lattice. I saw myself in the glass, my sunken eyes tired from worry and lack of sleep, wisps of black hair over my face and the rest tangled at the ends. Nothing out of the ordinary.
I tidied my hair, straightened my pants. “I’m awake.”
Ammi took a step back and crossed her arms. “No time for breakfast.” She knelt to wipe the spilled soup off the tray. “I’ll leave this here for you to eat later.”
I nodded, clasping my tailor’s belt. My scissors hung at my side, their weight familiar.
She dusted my hat and passed it to me. “Your hair’s gotten long.”
I hesitated, wishing that Edan’s spell over the palace hadn’t affected Ammi, too. It would have been nice for another girl to know my secret.
“I know,” I replied, taking the hat. “Thank you.”
I gathered the gowns into a basket and hurried to Lady Sarnai’s apartments, almost forgetting to hobble and use my cane. Like at the Summer Palace, the Orchid Pavilion was on the other side of the grounds, and as I passed through the open corridors and courtyards, I avoided looking at the sky. I could tell from the corners of my vision that the clouds were inflamed, that even my shadow had a tinge of red. But I wouldn’t look up, wouldn’t view the flaming red sun.
I hurried up the steps and fell to my knees after the guards let me in, bowing. “Your Imperial Majesty. My deepest, deepest apologies for—”
The sight of Emperor Khanujin made me forget my words.
Gone was the short, weak ruler I had encountered only five days ago. Thanks to Edan’s magic, Emperor Khanujin was again the regal king beloved and feared by all. His hair was black as ebony, tucked under a headpiece made entirely of gold, and his eyes were bright, if not kind. The façade was so stunning I forgot what his real self looked like.
I pulled my eyes away from him, refusing to let magic toy with my perceptions and feelings. At his side was Edan. I pursed my lips. It’d been days since we’d been together. Edan’s hair was shorter, his curls tamed behind his head, and he was dressed in the black robes he always wore when he was near his master.
He stood tall. Stiff, almost. Bound. That golden cuff still shackled his wrist, and the emperor’s aura radiated as violently as ever. I must have imagined my meeting with Amana the previous night. Seeing Edan this way, I felt as if my heart wanted to burst.
I turned my head slightly, taking in Lady Sarnai’s chambers. They seemed smaller than her rooms in the Summer Palace, perhaps because there were