SLOWLY BUT SURELY, LIFE BLURS BACK into the routine of palace life.

With the King away on official business for over a month—something to do with rebel activity in the South, according to the rumors—and no strange happenings after Master Tekoa’s prediction, I lose myself in our steady rhythm of classes and dinners and nightly entertainments. My teachers notice the improvement in my efforts, and Mistress Eira congratulates me about it one day, telling me she’s proud that I used what happened with the King as a turning point. And she’s right. It was a moment of awakening for me.

But not in the way she thinks.

Though it only takes me a couple of weeks to replace the weight I lost during my confinement, it takes me much longer to get back to my normal self—or at least something that passes for normal now. I’m cast in the shadow of that night with the King. The memory of it hovers close, a constant presence at the edge of my consciousness, like moon-shimmer on the surface of a lake.

Even though the King is out of the palace, I get the sensation sometimes that he’s watching me. Yet when I turn around, it’s only to find an empty corridor or the quizzical face of one of the girls.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Wren asks me one afternoon when I stop midconversation on our way to a lesson, looking round my shoulder with the certainty that the King will be there, just behind me, head cocked and a loose grin on his face.

Forcing down a shiver, I keep walking. “Yes. Sure. Never better.”

“Lei.” Her fingers brush my arm. “Be honest with me. You haven’t been right since what happened with the King—”

“Of course not!” I hiss, jerking away. Aoki’s chatting to Chenna a few steps in front of us, and she glances over her shoulder. Lowering my voice, I go on, “I mean, it was awful, Wren. And it’s going to happen again someday. I hate this, this… waiting. I don’t know if I can keep it up.”

Wren nods. “It’s the same for me. But it’s all we can do.”

“Is it?” I reply quietly.

She stiffens, looking away with pressed lips.

I want to ask her how she can stand it. Whether she dreams of freedom the same way I do, in the small of the night, when the darkness is broken only by moon-silver and thoughts of home, and of her and the other girls—the futures we could be having, if only we could escape from the palace. But I swallow my words. I know her answer already, because it is the same thing that holds me back every time I dream of escape.

Their blood will be here. Do you understand me? On your hands.

We walk the rest of the way in silence.

Our history and politics teacher, Madam Tharazi, is an old lizard-form demon with dull scales the color of fallen leaves. Her room is on the ground floor of a house on the southwest side of Women’s Court, small and warm, kept shadowed by lowered shutters and the gnarled trunk of a maple tree growing outside the window, its knotted branches reaching over the house like a tree spirit’s bony arms. It always feels like dusk in her room, and I often catch the other girls dozing in her lessons. It doesn’t help that Madam Tharazi is the most lax of our teachers, her eyes half glazed as she lectures on one topic or another. Most of the other girls probably know all about Ikhara’s history and politics already. But I always pay attention. These lessons are one of the only times I get to learn about the world beyond the palace walls, and I cherish them, needing to remember that there is a world outside.

Not just a world. A future.

It’s cold today, overcast. Gloomy light glances off Madam Tharazi’s scales. Beside me, Aoki’s chin drops and she gives a little start, looking up with a sheepish grin.

Today’s lesson is on the Amala, the Cat Clan. “After the failure of the Kitori uprising,” Madam Tharazi recounts, gazing out the window as if we weren’t there, “their numbers dropped to almost half. The clan retreated to the southern deserts of Jana to recover, which is where they have lived nomadically since. Lord Kura’s daughter, Lady Lova, took over rule of the clan a year later, after her father’s death. She was only sixteen. Incidentally, it is the fourth time they have had a female leader. Unlike many clans, the Amala has a progressive attitude toward the females in its rank.…”

“General Lova.”

I glance sideways at Wren’s whisper. Madam Tharazi’s voice drones on, the tip of her tail twitching lazily as she speaks. Sometimes I think Madam Himura chose her to teach us on purpose. I doubt they want us to be too knowledgeable about politics; just enough to hold conversation at dinners with court officials, but not enough to get any ideas.

“What?” I whisper at Wren.

She blinks. She doesn’t seem to realize she spoke out loud. “Oh. It’s just that Lova goes by the title of General, not Lady. She’s very adamant about it.”

“You’ve met her?”

Wren nods. “My father was holding a council a few years ago for some of the leading clans. The King didn’t want to invite the Cat Clan. You’ve heard about their disagreements. But my father insisted. He told the King it would do him well to keep a closer eye on them.”

“What was she like?” I ask. “General Lova.”

Something flickers across Wren’s face. It takes me a moment to place it, because it’s so unexpected coming from her—the hesitation, the flush in her cheeks.

She’s embarrassed.

“Beautiful,” she admits, and there’s the echo of something wistful in her voice. “And strong. She’d just turned eighteen, so she’d only been ruling for two years, and most of the other clan leaders were at least double her age. But Lova walked in this way.… It was as though she owned the place. As though daring anyone to doubt her reason for being there.”

I hesitate. “Sounds like you spent a lot of time with her.”

“Not really,” Wren replies, but it doesn’t sound like her. Her voice is too high, and I catch something bitter there, too, some undertone halfway between anger and sadness.

Later that day at dinner, Madam Himura reminds us that we won’t be having any lessons tomorrow because of the koyo celebrations. On the first day of the tenth month, festivals are held across Ikhara to celebrate the arrival of autumn.

I can’t believe it’s been almost four months since I came to the palace. In the lush landscape of Women’s Court, the turn of the season is a physical thing, marked in every tree and plant. Leaves flush crimson and ginger. Flowers scatter their petals to the ground. Over the last week, the gardens beyond my window have changed from a sea of green to one of fire and smolder.

“You’ll be attending a party tomorrow night in the Inner Courts,” Madam Himura tells us between mouthfuls, her chopsticks darting out to claim the last of the salted cuttlefish. “The King will be there. He arrived back at the palace early this morning. I heard it was a very tiring trip for him, so be on your best behavior.”

I can sense Wren watching me from across the table. I avoid her eyes, taking a long sip of tea to try to ease the sudden swell of my throat. Memories flash: the King’s roar; his long jaw wrested into a snarl. The rough grip of his fingers on my arms.

Aoki touches her shoulder to mine. “Are you all right?” she whispers.

I wet my lips. “I… will be.”

“What will we do before the party?” Chenna asks from my other side.

“You’re to stay in Paper House,” Madam Himura replies. “Your maids will start preparing you in the afternoon.”

A thrum of excitement runs through the room. We haven’t had a day off yet. But while I’d like to rest just as much as the other girls, an idea comes to me for a better way to use this opportunity.

I wait until everyone is getting up to leave before approaching Madam Himura.

“What now?” she croaks, sensing me hovering over her.

“Madam Himura,” I start in my politest tone, hands clasped at the small of my back, “I was wondering whether I could have an extra lesson tomorrow.”

Still not looking up, she raps a taloned finger on the table. “There’s no denying you need it. But none of your teachers will be working tomorrow. Everyone is off for the celebrations.”

“Even the Night Houses?”

Her chin snaps up.

“Because that’s what I’d like my lesson in,” I go on hurriedly. “With Zelle. Last time, I was so nervous I didn’t really take much in, and after what happened with the…” I force a shy expression across my face. “I want to make amends.”

Her eyes narrow. “The King hasn’t called for you since then. Who knows when he will?”

“But he’ll be at the koyo party. At least I can try to make a good impression on him there. Please, Madam Himura. I’m trying.”

She regards me for one long moment. Then she flaps an arm, turning her attention back to the bowl in front of her. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt.”

Before she changes her mind, I shoot her a thanks and rush out of the room—bumping straight into Wren. My face flushes as we untangle, her hand lingering on my arm.

“What was that about?” she asks quietly.

“I’m going to have an extra lesson with Zelle tomorrow,” I say.

She appraises me. “Why?”

“I just thought, since I’ll be seeing the King again—”

“That’s not why,” she interrupts. Her fingers wind around my shoulder, and she drops her voice, head dipped close. “I know you, Lei. You don’t want to please him.”

“Yes, I do.”

Wren stiffens. I avoid her eyes, but I sense her stare boring into me. When the silence is almost unbearable, I flick my eyes up, suddenly wanting to explain what my plan is. But I freeze at the look on her face. Her eyes are flinty. Hard-edged and hurt.

“Please don’t lie,” Wren says. Her fingers brush mine before she moves away, adding quietly, and low, “Not about that. Not to me.”

I go to mutter something, but fall silent, letting her go. Because knowing I’ll be facing the King tomorrow, I’m not ready to talk truthfully about how I feel yet. And if I can’t offer her lies, there’s nothing to say.