see the glimmer of confusion flicker across her brow when she held me in her gaze.
I held my breath, knowing exactly what she was trying to remember. Edan’s enchantment had worked on everyone else, but if Lady Sarnai—
Her expression cleared, and she shook off whatever bothered her about me. It wasn’t as important as what she wanted to say.
“Perhaps you know the legend of the god of thieves?” she asked. “He was so skilled he boasted that he could steal Amana’s children: the sun, the moon, and the stars. The gods laughed at him, but he was undeterred. He captured the first two of Amana’s children easily, but the stars—they danced in the sky and were difficult to catch. So he shot arrows into them, and caught their essence as they bled into the sky. Amana was so enraged that she buried the world in darkness. Even when the god of thieves gave back what he had stolen, she was not appeased.
“So he called upon Heaven’s tailor to make Amana a gift. He had kept slivers of the sun, the moon, and the stars, and he asked the tailor to make three dresses so beautiful they blinded the mortal eye. The tailor succeeded. The dresses were so dazzling Amana forgave the thief and returned light to the world, but only for half the day—for the fragments the thief had given to make the dresses meant the day could never be whole again. A lesson never to anger the mother goddess.”
Lady Sarnai paused now, and her red lips formed a dangerous smile. “You are the best tailor in A’landi, Master Tamarin. Make me the dresses of Amana.”
I heard Lady Sarnai’s mocking tone and struggled to stay calm. Every tailor knew the story of Amana’s dresses. And every tailor knew that no human hands had ever made them.
“One woven with the laughter of the sun,” I whispered. “Another embroidered with the tears of the moon, and lastly, one painted with the blood of the stars.”
“As I understand it,” said Lady Sarnai calmly, “you will need to journey far to acquire the necessary materials for each gown.”
“But Your Highness,” I blurted, “these dresses are myths. One cannot spin sunlight into thread, nor moonlight—”
“Have you ever tried?”
I swallowed hard. “No, Your Highness.”
“I am aware that many have tried and failed to make these three gowns. Pray your fate will be different.”
They hadn’t just failed. They had disappeared or died—all pursuing something that couldn’t be done. And for what? So many legends surrounded the dresses. Some said Amana would grant a wish—no matter how impossible—to the tailor who made them. Others said the dresses would awaken unspeakable power, enough to bring about the end of the world.
I suppressed a shudder. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“My father will arrive the night of the red sun. That will give you a good month for each dress. I’m sure the emperor has informed you how important this task is, and what happens if you fail.” Her tone hardened. “Do not disappoint me.”
“All the palace’s resources will be available to you, Master Tamarin,” said the emperor, sounding unfazed by Lady Sarnai’s demands.
I was hardly listening. All the jens in the world would not buy me the sun and the moon and the stars. What she was asking was impossible!
Lady Sarnai cocked her head to one side. “You look concerned, Master Tamarin. Perhaps the Lord Enchanter can be persuaded to aid you.”
A shiver twisted down my spine. Lady Sarnai had wanted me to spy on Edan before, and now she wanted me to ask for his help. It couldn’t be a good change of heart—not for either of us.
I folded my arms and bowed, hoping my bent head would hide my rising panic.
“Lord Enchanter,” she said, “my young tailor is about to embark on a journey to procure materials for my three dresses. Can he count on your assistance?”
“I’m afraid, Your Highness,” Edan said, somewhat testily, “that it is impossible for me to leave the emperor’s side for a prolonged period.”
“Ah, you don’t trust your precious Khanujin with me. It bothers you, doesn’t it, that I haven’t fallen for his charms. Perhaps if you’re not here, things might be different.”
A dark look flickered across the emperor’s face, and I heard a chorus of stifled gasps behind me. But Edan remained composed. “With all due respect, Your Highness, I must refuse.”
Lady Sarnai clucked her tongue. “A pity. You may be the only one who could help poor Master Tamarin. He