THE EVE OF THE NEW YEAR, the palace is transformed. Decorations have been going up in all the courts. I’m kept busy as a small army of maids prepare me for the ball, but Lill manages to sneak me outside for a few minutes to see what’s been going on. A tidal wave of scarlet and gold appears to have stormed through the palace. Women’s Court is on fire, vibrant ribbons and streamers adorning every building. Lanterns of all shapes and sizes hang from the eaves, along with strings of copper coins, glinting as they turn in the breeze. Bowls of offerings filled with kumquats and stacks of succulent peaches and clementines sit on porches. Cracked mirrors to ward off evil spirits have been set beside every doorway, a New Year’s superstition that we also followed back in Xienzo.

Lill tells me the King lent royal shamans to each court to infuse magic into some of the decorations. She points out a giant paper crane, symbolic of good fortune and longevity, that has been erected in a courtyard across the street. The bird is at least fifteen feet tall. Its garnet beak glitters in the winter sun. As we watch, it stretches its great wings, paper feathers rustling.

I lace my arm round her shoulders and smile down at her. My eyes sting. I blink quickly to keep the tears away. “Thank you, Lill,” I say thickly. “For everything.”

The smile she returns me is so wide and trusting I have to look away.

Over the next few hours, I, like the palace, am also transformed. My body is polished and oiled with an amberlike liquid containing flecks of gold that catch the light with every movement. Kohl rims my eyes, artfully smudged with bronze shadow; shimmering pearl-powder embellishes my cheeks. A pale paint is swept over my lips, enhancing the brightness of my irises. It’s like putting on a mask, each dab of color, each stroke of a brush, and I imagine the paint as armor. My battle gear.

As they work, I visualize adding other, hidden layers onto my armor—all the reasons I am doing this.

What happened to Mama. What has happened to other mothers, other women and men and children of raids just like the one on my village. My love for Wren. My love for Aoki and even the other girls, and the hope that this can bring all of us freedom, along with every Paper caste slave. The executed assassins. On my second night in the palace, the woman who screamed at me a word I’ve been unable to forget since.

Dzarja.

It’s not my own kin who I’ll be betraying tonight.

And then, of course, the final reason: a night, just a few weeks ago.

A night I will never allow to be repeated.

Once my makeup is complete, the maids arrange my hair into a plaited bun at the nape of my neck, twined through with beads and tiny yellow chrysanthemums, before dressing me in a vivid red cheongsam with long lace sleeves. It’s so tight-fitting it pins my rib- cage in place.

I repress a mad laugh. Well, at least I’m dressed the part. Because what reputable assassin doesn’t wear perfume and a slinky dress?

By the time the maids leave, night is falling. They file out slowly. I’m about to turn away when the last girl pauses in the doorway, fiddling with the hem of her dress. I go forward to help her—it must have caught on something—but as I bend down she pushes something into my palm.

“Good luck, Lei,” she whispers, pewter eyes meeting mine. She bows and hurries away.

As soon as I’m alone, I open the silk-wrapped package. Lantern light catches on a thin blade, barely longer than a needle. Its lacquered bone has been made to look like a hair ornament. Carefully, I tuck it into the top of my thick braid with trembling fingers.

This is it, the last piece of my battle gear.

My weapon.

Before I leave, I go to the little shrine in the corner of my room and take my Birth-blessing pendant from where it’s been hanging. I loop it around my neck. It’s heavier than I remember. Just like I used to, I cup it in my palm, wondering what future it holds for me. But this time there is an additional question I’ve never had to ask myself before.

Will I even live to find out?

Aoki meets me outside Paper House. She’s also dressed in red, as is tradition for New Year celebrations, delicate robes, as thin as moth wings. Her lips look sensual painted in a dark ruby color, and she seems so far from the nervous sixteen-year-old girl I met on that first night in the palace that I have to blink back a sudden rush of tears.

“The King won’t be able to take his eyes off you,” I tell her, and from her smile I can tell that for the first time, she truly believes it.

The journey to the Inner Courts flies by in a whirl of color and noise. Every street overflows with decorations. Music sifts through the air, dancers performing in twirling dresses, the bells on their anklets chiming. Children scream with laughter as they chase each other down the streets, scarily realistic origami masks of the heavenly rulers strapped across their faces. One of them dashes so close to my carriage the oryx veer quickly aside to avoid her. The little girl laughs, long hair streaming behind the angry red face of Nizri, Goddess of Chaos. She waves as she watches us go, but there’s something creepy about the contrast of that light, high-pitched laugh with the furrowed leer of one of the most dangerous gods, and I shrink away from the window.

By the time we arrive at the Moon Ball my heart is beating so hard it physically shakes me. The tree-lined avenue is busy. As my palanquin waits in a long line of others, I check again that the pin is still in place. My fingers tremble so much that I almost unravel the whole fancy hairstyle my maids spent so long creating.

Outside, I join the rest of the guests as we’re led toward a large round building made entirely of glass. Its domed roof sparkles with streams of tiny lights. A ring of enchanted gardens surrounds it, fireflies shimmering over the treetops. Mistress Eira told us earlier that the building is called the Floating Hall, and I see now why—because of the way it perches over a lake, held up by thin crystal columns rooted in the water, it looks like it’s hovering in midair. The aquamarine glow from the lake below sends shifting ripples of color across the glass.

Inside, the hall is packed. For the New Year, all the guests are wearing red, but instead of looking celebratory it’s like being swallowed by a sea of blood. Bodies press from every side. Music fills the domed space, rising over the buzz of voices.

I try to stay close to Aoki, but the wave of the crowd separates us. I end up getting shifted toward Blue and the twins.

“Beautiful dress, Lei,” Zhin remarks, her sister nodding in agreement.

“Yours too,” I say, distracted, barely glancing at what they’re wearing. “Both of you.”

Smiling, they turn away to greet someone else. As soon as their backs are turned, Blue wraps her hand round my wrist, pulling me close. Her fingers dig into my skin. “I know what you’ve been up to, Nine,” she whispers. “You and Wren.”

I wrench my arm away. “Please, Blue. Please don’t tell anyone.”

She laughs, her eyes wild. It takes me a few moments to realize what it is I’m seeing in them.

Triumph.

“You’ve already told him,” I croak. The words stick in my throat. “After what happened to Mariko—”

“You don’t understand at all, do you?” Blue cuts in, scowling. “It’s because it happened to her that I told! It wasn’t fair, Nine. She was cast out to heavens know what kind of life and we’re still here, living in luxury, and all this time, you and Wren, loving each other…” Her voice spits with venom. “Being happy.”

“He’ll kill us,” I say.

Something broken crosses her face, making her look strange, not quite right, like the echo of a person. “So? You don’t even want this life.”

Just then, someone bumps into me, knocking me off balance. By the time I look back around, Blue is gone.

I make my way into the crowd, ice unspooling in my veins. The King knows.

As if what I have to do already weren’t hard enough.

Laughter and the cascading song of strings whirl round me. I shoulder my way past gossiping court members and servants carrying trays of tiny cakes nestled on crystallized sakura leaves. Overhead, strings of lights drape from the dome like scattered stars. The sapphire glow of the lake shimmers up through the glass, giant koi and sea horses swimming in its depths. The ball is a dizzying kaleidoscope, but my focus is honed, and I whip my head left and right, hunting for the King. I can’t act until Kenzo’s signal, but I need to keep an eye on him.

And then.

There.

Thick, pointed horns. Mahogany-brown hair. That familiar smile, all teeth. The red of the King’s robes is dark, almost purple, the color of plums or old blood.

Naja’s with him. Her snow-white fur sparkles with silver powder, a long-tailed sari clinging to her lean, foxlike figure. She scans the crowd as the King gazes down the length of his smooth bovine nose, talking to a couple dressed in red baju sets, surprisingly plain for the occasion, their backs to me. As if sensing me watching, the King lifts his eyes.

His grin sharpens. He leans aside, whispering something to Naja.

The white fox glides over to me, slinking sinuously through the crowd. “Hello, whore,” she remarks casually.

“Hello, jealous bitch,” I shoot back.

No point acting polite anymore. One way or another, I’ll be out of here tonight.

I can tell my comment catches Naja off guard. She stiffens, cool eyes gleaming. “I would be offended,” she purrs, composing herself, “if I actually cared what Paper trash thought.”

“Well, let me try harder, then—”

She holds up a hand to silence me. “Enough games. The King has a message for you. He’s kindly invited a couple of people he thought you’d be pleased to see. He wants you to know that if you try anything tonight—run away, disrupt the ball—they will be killed.” She leans in, her voice smooth, like the gleam of stones on a riverbed, and just as hard. “Don’t they look happy? Such a shame they won’t be that way for long.” And with a flick of her tail, she stalks off.

I frown, peering ahead through the shifting crowd. The couple glance around as the King gestures to something on the other side of the hall, and I glimpse their faces.

My heart stutters. It’s some trick of the light. A waking dream. Because surely it can’t be real, the two of them here, so far from where they should be, safe and hidden on the opposite side of the kingdom.

But it is them.

Baba. Tien.

My eyes take in their pressed clothes, the self-conscious way they’re holding themselves. And worse: the way they seem distracted despite the fact that they’re talking to the King, because they are looking with hopeful, eager eyes for me.

“You bastard,” I snarl.

Because now I understand what the King’s plan is. This was the surprise Lill was talking about yesterday. Thanks to Blue, he knows I have betrayed him. That I’ve been betraying him night after night, with no less than one of my fellow Paper Girls. And as with the assassins, he’s going to teach everyone what it means to betray the King.

Tonight he is going to kill me.

And he has brought my family here to watch.

I’m striding forward before I know what I’m doing, my hands curling in fists, a shout readying on my lips—

Someone grabs me by the arm.

“No!” I cry as they drag me away. I struggle, but their grip is strong. They lead me out of the hall and onto a balcony. A glimpse of night-cloaked gardens, fireflies dancing over the treetops, and then I’m whirling round, my voice rising to a shout. “How dare you!”

Zelle gazes back at me, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “I just saved you from doing something exceptionally stupid, Nine,” she says calmly. “A thank-you would be preferable.”

I fall still. “What—what are you doing here?”

She gives a little sigh. “I’m part of the plan, aren’t I? Anyway, Mistress Azami always sends a few of the Night House girls to events like this. Good for trade.” At my confused look, she says, “Oh. Kenzo didn’t tell you.”

I gape at her. “You’re working for them, too?”

“Well,” she replies with a sniff, “I prefer to think of it as working with them. But yes. I am.”

Her words from the other week come back to me: Love will only make it harder.

“That’s why you were like that in our last lesson,” I say slowly, finally understanding. “You knew about Wren and me. And you knew I’d get hurt when Wren left the palace, or she—” I cut off. With a lick of my lips, I go on, “Was that why you covered for me when you found me in Mistress Azami’s rooms?”

Zelle shakes her head. “I didn’t know then. But I could tell you were telling the truth about looking for your mother, and I felt sorry for you. You have a good heart, Lei.” Her voice hardens. “But you wear your emotions on your sleeve. You’ve got to keep yourself together, at least for a few more hours.”

“He was talking to my father!” I burst out, splaying my arms. “And Tien! Blue told him about Wren and me, and he’s going to use me as an example tonight. Punish me in front of everyone.” My breath hitches. “He wants my family to see me die.”

Zelle grips my shoulders. “We won’t let that happen, I promise. Anyway, you’ll get to him first, right?” She winks, shifting back, but her voice is serious and I look away.

“I wish Wren were here,” I murmur.

“We all do.”

“Do you think the King had her mother murdered to get her out of the palace because he suspects the Hannos?”

“I’m not sure about that,” Zelle says with a frown. “The King is definitely suspicious of them—but he’s suspicious of everyone right now after what happened at the theater. I don’t think he’d attack some of his most prominent supporters without being certain they’re working against him. It’s different from acting out against the Cat Clan, for example. They’ve always been enemies. He’ll want to maintain a good relationship with the Hannos. I think it’s more likely that what happened to Wren’s mother was a bad stroke of luck on our part.” Gaze fixed on me, she asks, softer, “So. Are you ready?”

I swallow. “Yes.”

“You have to be confident, Nine. Do it cleanly and quietly. This way, we take control from within, with the least amount of bloodshed.”

“And if I fail? If the King discovers the Hannos’ plans?”

“There will be another war.”

War. It’s a word in our kingdom that carries power, even though none of us have lived through one. The memories have been handed down to us, heavy handfuls of violence and slaughter, and the decades of rebuilding afterward, which, directed by the Demon King, inscribed prejudice into the landscape as deeply as if it were grooves of water in bedrock.

A group of female demons stroll by in a cloud of perfume and giggles. Once they’ve passed, Zelle moves to my side, elbows hooked over the top of the railing as she leans against it, gazing over the gardens. Something about the expression on her face makes me sure of who she’s thinking about.

“Your lover,” I ask. “Did the King…?”

She jerks her chin. “Not himself. But… on his orders. There was a rift in the court a few years ago after the way the King handled an uprising in Noei. The soldiers who spoke out against him were executed. Mistress Azami told Kenzo what happened—yes, she’s working with us, too,” she adds at my sideways glance. “He’d been looking to recruit one of us for a while. Courtesans have access to the court’s most powerful members. With a glass of plum wine and the slip of a dress they can be easily persuaded to give their secrets away.”

“It seems everyone’s had someone they love taken from them by the King,” I say bitterly.

Zelle’s fingers lift to the base of her neck. “Well, not after tonight.”

The cerise ruqun she’s wearing is slung low, collar wide and hanging off her shoulders to expose the shadow of her cleavage and the gold choker sitting above it. The choker is emblazoned with the character ye, marking her as one of the palace’s concubines. Her fist tightens around it, as though she wants nothing more than to rip it off and fling it out over the treetops. Then, pushing back from the railing, she shoots me a crooked smile.

“We’re all behind you, Nine.” Her fingers brush my arm before she glides back into the party.

I wait a bit more on the balcony, taking in the cool night air. I’m just about to leave when the tread of approaching hooves makes me freeze.

“My, my. Can this really be the same shopkeeper’s daughter I met in Xienzo six months ago?”

Lights hanging overhead catch on the scar that snakes down the left side of General Yu’s face, that familiar, scar-wrenched grin. Our paths haven’t crossed, even after all this time in the palace, but I’ve felt him with me every step of the way; in the memory of his threat to Baba and Tien, everything he represents as the beginning of all this, the demon who tore me from my home.

But General Yu is right. I have changed.

When he reaches for my cheek, I step back before he can touch me.

“General,” I say smoothly. I flash him a sweet smile, though my tone is acid. “You should be careful. I doubt the King would take kindly to seeing you touching one of his Paper Girls.” My smile sharpens. “Actually, I don’t take kindly to it, either. Touch me again, and I will cut your fingers off.”

Biting back a grim laugh at the look on his face, I head back into the ball.

My heart beats quickly as I locate the King, this time keeping my distance as I wait for Kenzo’s cue. The informal style of the Moon Ball is one of the reasons why they chose tonight for the assassination—chaos provides cover. But it’s also the only time in the whole year when the royal shamans stop working. At the turn of the New Year, for one hour only, their protective enchantment on the palace lifts as they perform the customary rites of giving thanks to the heavens. This magic-free hour is our only chance at escape.

As the minutes tick by, the King keeps Baba and Tien close to his side. A few times I catch a glimpse of their faces, and the happiness that lights them—the hope—aches deep in my gut. It’s all I can do not to run across the hall and throw my arms around them. To distract myself from my nerves, I plot ways in which to get them alone. So when a chance actually opens up, it takes me a while to realize it’s more than just a fanciful daydream.

The King has stepped aside to discuss something with a group of intimidating-looking demons I take to be clan lords. Naja has joined General Ndeze to attend to some important business outside the hall. Before she goes, she leaves a couple of guards with my father and Tien, but I don’t pay them any attention as I push my way across.

I stride right up to Baba and throw my arms around him. He bursts into tears at the same moment I do. Our bodies shudder against each other. Then Tien is joining us, her bony arms clutching me so tightly I’m amazed they don’t snap.

“What happened to politeness and decorum?” I mumble through tears.

She squeezes me tighter. “Oh, be quiet, you little nuisance.”

It’s almost like being back in Xienzo. I’m wrapped in everything I’ve been missing so badly, the smell and feel and love of my lost home, and none of us needs to say anything because everything we could say is contained here, within the press of our bodies.

Then the guards wrestle us apart.

“No!” I yell, thrashing.

Around us, the guests are stopping to look. The guards don’t hold my father and Tien once we’re separated, just reaching out arms to keep them back, but the gorilla-form guard who’s got me restrains me a bit too tightly, his huge furred hands easily spanning my shoulder blades.

“We were instructed to keep you apart,” he tells me, pulling me away.

“Wait!” I cry. Baba and Tien look horrified, and I want just one more moment with them—even half a minute, a few seconds, just enough to tell them everything will be all right. But the guard is twice my size, and gods know how many times stronger, and soon I’m on the far side of the hall.

When he lets me go, I jerk away, puffing aside a loose lock of hair.

“I will wait with you,” he says, the leathery skin of his face impassive.

Glowering, I turn away. There’s no point in trying to get to Baba and Tien again, but I still look into the crowd, standing on my toes to try to catch another glimpse. Instead, I spot the sloping gait of Kenzo stalking toward me.

In an instant, everything stills.

Kenzo gives the guard a glance, but keeps his expression neutral as he strides past me, just close enough for me to feel the brush of his fur—and to slip something into my hand. Keeping it low so the guard won’t see, I open my fingers. Inside: an origami bird.

A wren.

It’s time.

With a deep inhale, I tuck the paper bird into my sleeve. But as I’m about to move, the music stops. Raised voices are suddenly loud in the quiet, and there is the clink of glasses being set down, murmurs of surprise, the trailing ends of laughter.

“Heavenly Master and honorable court members,” announces an invisible voice, magically magnified. “Our esteemed guests. Please make your way to the stage for a special performance by this year’s Paper Girls.”

Fingers pinch my shoulders. “Come on, girl,” snaps Madam Himura’s hoarse voice. “The others are already dressed.”

My stomach drops. The dance Madam Chu’s been teaching us to perform tonight. I’d forgotten all about it.

Ignoring my objections, Madam Himura drags me across the hall and out onto the balcony, broader here at the back of the building, where a curved, weblike cage arcs overhead. A stage is set up beneath it, polished floor shining.

She pushes me into a curtained-off area where the other girls are waiting. “Get her into her costume,” she orders the maids.

I try to object, but they crowd me, peeling my cheongsam off. They re-dress me in the multilayered gold robes of our dance costume. One of the maids picks at my hairstyle and the braid loosens. I clutch at my hair, swirling round just in time to see the blade fall. Light catches on its edge. Then it’s hidden by the skirts of the maids as they usher me toward the other girls.

Panic unfurls, fast and hot.

“Please!” I say, batting them off me. “I can’t do the dance! I need to go!”

Holding up the hem of her long skirt, Mistress Eira hurries to my side. “Lei? What’s wrong?”

From behind the curtain, the musicians start playing. The murmuring of the crowd mutes as a melody rises.

Mistress Eira smiles. “There’s no need to be nervous. Your dancing has improved so much over the past few months. You should be proud.”

I crane my head to look past her, hardly hearing what she’s saying. The blade glitters on the crystal floor, picked out by the aquamarine glow of the lake. “I—I dropped something,” I say.

“There’ll be plenty of time to get it after the performance.”

“It can’t wait. Mistress, please…”

And finally, she follows my gaze.

There’s a long pause. She asks, sharp, “Is that yours?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

In one quick movement, Mistress Eira goes over and snatches the blade from the floor, swiftly hiding it in the folds of her robes. Her mouth is set so tightly her lips have almost disappeared. “I am going to dispose of this, and you are going to go out onto the stage and perform as though this never happened. Do you understand me, Lei-zhi?”

That first night I arrived at the palace, Mistress Eira’s use of the Paper Girls’ honorific with my name was given with pride. Now it stings.

Know your place, she is telling me. Remember who it is you are.

I flex my fingers. Because I know exactly who I am, and it is not the perfect Paper Girl she wants me to be.

My gaze hardens. “Did you even try to send my letters?” I ask icily.

She just blinks.

“I thought as much.” Then I turn my back on her, taking my place in the line of girls.

A moment later, the music swirls into a new chord. Our cue. One by one, we pad onto the stage, our arms raised high, the trailing sleeves of our costumes hiding our faces, and one of us hiding something more—a sinking heart, a pang in her chest, and the feeling that everything she has been fighting for has been lost.