“Perhaps you should change it, then.” Edan’s mouth set in a thin line as he finally regarded me. “The imperial tailor’s skill with the thread and needle is beyond compare. I’m certain he could design something else that would please you.”
“Unfortunately, my mind is made up,” Lady Sarnai said. “I desire Amana’s dresses. I have the utmost confidence that Master Tamarin has the talent necessary to sew them. Think how disappointed His Majesty would be if the truce fell apart because our young tailor perished before he could make my wedding dresses.”
“Disappointed indeed.” Emperor Khanujin spoke for him. “But the Lord Enchanter best serves the realm while at my side.”
Edan’s fists curled, but his expression didn’t change. He bowed his head, listening as the emperor continued: “I will confer with Edan this afternoon as to how best to satisfy your request. Now, if there is nothing else, Lady Sarnai, my ministers and I have other matters to attend to.”
“Master Tamarin, do you have any questions?” she asked.
“No,” I whispered, slightly dazed.
“Then there is nothing else.” Lady Sarnai smiled sweetly and fluttered her hands to dismiss me. To my surprise, Edan followed.
“I can’t go with you,” he hissed once we were outside.
“I didn’t ask you to,” I shot back. “I know it’s an impossible task, even for you.”
His face folded into a mask of rage. I’d never seen him angry before. It frightened me how black his eyes became, like onyx, too dark to penetrate. “It’s not impossible; it’s a trap meant to get me away from Khanujin, to send me on a fool’s errand.”
“Then I’ll go alone,” I retorted.
He gritted his teeth. “No, you don’t understand. The emperor has threatened to execute you if you fail. But he wouldn’t need to. Most likely, you’ll be killed on your quest.”
Killed. Like Finlei and Sendo. They died in the service of A’landi, just as I would.
I bit the inside of my lip, but I wouldn’t let Edan’s warning dissuade me. “Making Amana’s dresses…it’s never been done. I assumed it would be impossible. But you just said it wasn’t.”
“That doesn’t mean it should be done.”
“Then help me,” I said. “At least tell me: Where can I find sunlight so pure it can be spun? And moonlight so dense it can be woven? And the blood of stars…I don’t even know where to begin with that one.”
We found ourselves crossing a pond, and Edan stopped to lean on the rail of the wooden bridge, his lips pursed. “Let’s start with the sun,” he said finally. “To the lucky few who’ve seen one, a Niwa spider is known as a golden wheel spider. The silk from its webs is worth thousands of jens per ounce, because it is fire-resistant, among other things. A useful characteristic when one is seeking to gather the laughter of the sun.”
Hope bubbled in my chest. “So where can I find a Niwa spider?”
“In the Halakmarat Desert. They’re rare, but finding one is only the first step.” Edan pulled away from the bridge to face me. “You should leave,” he said quietly. “Run away.”
His tone surprised me. He sounded almost…concerned. “My father and brother are counting on me.” I swallowed. “His Majesty said I need to fulfill Lady Sarnai’s demands or else he’ll…” My voice drifted off. He’ll kill them.
Edan sighed. “Then I’ll come with you.”
I looked up at him, startled. “I thought you said you couldn’t leave the emperor.”
“I shouldn’t,” he corrected. “Despite my title, I’m hardly more than a servant myself,” he added bitterly. “One who needs permission from Khanujin to leave his side.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he went on. “Helping you is the best way to ensure that war does not break out again. Besides, His Majesty would not refuse you an escort.”
I blushed. “Even if that escort is you?”
“I’m hoping if I word my request carefully enough, he won’t forbid me specifically to come with you.”
“Why won’t he give you permission to leave?”
Edan grimaced. “It’s complicated. I protect A’landi by serving the emperor. If I leave, Khanujin will be vulnerable. He doesn’t like being vulnerable.”
“But—”
“That’s all you need to know. Don’t pry into my affairs, Maia. You’ll find yourself in a dangerous position.”
He seemed unusually on edge. “I’m planning to leave tomorrow,” I said.
“We’ll leave in three days,” he corrected, tapping the lantern on one edge of the bridge. The wobbling light made the water in the pond flicker.