courtyard near my quarters, taking comfort in a letter from Baba. It was short, and he didn’t mention Keton, but his words at the end were enough to make my heart burst.
The emperor’s trial will be hard on you, but know that no matter whether you are chosen to stay or must come home, you are already the best tailor in A’landi to me. You’ve seized the wind, as I always knew you would.
I held the letter to my heart. “Seize the wind,” I whispered. “Don’t become the kite that never flies.” Those were Finlei’s words. How often he used to say them to me.
I regretted not being as close to him as Sendo. Finlei had always been the most protective of my brothers, yet also the one who’d urge me to leave Baba’s shop. “You can’t be the best tailor in the world if all you do is sew,” he’d say. “Come, let’s go on an adventure to free that imagination of yours.”
I could count on one hand how many times I’d taken him up on the offer. What a stubborn girl I’d been back then. I wouldn’t hesitate now.
“I’m not in Baba’s shop anymore, brother,” I whispered. I hoped, wherever Finlei was, he’d be proud of me for that.
Carefully, I folded up Baba’s letter. Reading it had fired my determination anew, and I reached for my sketchbook to begin a new design for the final challenge.
I couldn’t be sent home, not when Emperor Khanujin had given me another chance. I was so close. This final garment needed to be amazing—worthy of the gods.
But it was impossible to concentrate when my conscience pricked me every other minute about Lady Sarnai’s order. I didn’t want to spy on Edan!
But you should, if you really want to win.
Disgusted with myself, I scratched out my design and crumpled the page. Then crumpled another, and another. And another.
I let out a grunt of frustration.
“I heard Khanujin’s given you a second chance.”
I whirled around to face the intruder. For once, I wasn’t surprised to see him. In fact, I was almost relieved. “Where have you been?”
“Asleep,” Edan said. “Healing twenty-odd crushed bones is hard work, even for me.”
He took my hand, and I instantly stiffened.
“Relax,” he said, bringing my hand closer to his face for inspection. “It’s healing nicely, but it’s only been a few days. You need to rest more.”
I pulled my hand back. “How can I rest when I have another challenge? I almost lost.”
Edan cleared his throat. “The emperor did a fine job of extending the trial. Very noble of him, though I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” I caught the slightest tinge of sarcasm in Edan’s voice. “He said you remind him a little of himself.”
I turned back to my work, but curiosity bade me ask, “How so?”
“A young man trying hard to succeed. No one ever expected Khanujin to become king, you know. He had to learn much in a short time. Just like you…He didn’t want to dismiss you just yet.” When I didn’t respond, Edan shielded his face from the sun and said, “Do you always work outside?”
“Only to sketch. I find it inspiring.”
He looked over my shoulder at my drawing. “A water-themed dress?”
“It’s inspired by home.” I sighed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Norbu is going to win.”
“Oh?” Edan feigned ignorance. “Because his designs are best?”
A needle of envy pricked me. “Yes. He’s a master tailor. The greatest in A’landi.”
“He is a master tailor,” Edan allowed, “but so are you. Given a month on each of these challenges, I’m sure you both could work miracles. But not in a week. Not without help, anyway.” He exhaled. “Don’t you remember what I told you?”
“You said Norbu is using magic. But how?”
“Norbu has paint that creates illusions,” Edan revealed. “Very elementary stuff. It only lasts a few hours. A day or two at most. Until now, he’s been careful to survive each challenge, not to win.”
It made sense now. That was why Norbu never had anything to show until the day of the challenge. Why he was always so secretive about his work. Why he’d wanted his jacket burned.
“Magic is a wild, untamed energy that exists all around us,” Edan explained, “and certain people are more sensitive to it than others. We enchanters wear talismans that allow us to channel it, and on rare occasions, we enchant everyday objects, such as your scissors, to help us with our work, or to enable others temporary access to