I DON’T GET A CHANCE TO speak to Aoki until the following morning. She comes to my side as we head down the raised walkways to the lake in the south of Women’s Court where our qi arts teacher, Master Tekoa, holds his classes. It’s a beautiful midsummer morning, bright and crisp, drops of rain from last night’s shower nestling in the cupped palms of leaves and the wooden buildings still stained dark. Yet the daylight shows how tired Aoki looks. Her eyes are puffy, her lips chapped.

Before I can say anything, Blue looks round. “Little Aoki!” she says, striding over. “How are you feeling after your special night?” Her grin is all teeth. “I’m surprised you’re even able to walk,” she goes on with a glance at Mariko. “I thought the King would have broken you.”

Mariko titters, but the other girls are quiet.

“Go away, Blue,” I snap, threading my fingers through Aoki’s.

Blue arches a brow. “Don’t you want to hear the saucy details, Nine? I’m surprised. I thought, since you still haven’t had any sauciness yourself…”

“Well, you thought wrong. Nothing new there,” I add, and I notice Wren at the back of the group, her lips quirking.

Blue ignores me. “Come on, Aoki. Give us the details.”

“Yes, tell us!” Mariko chimes in. “Was he gentle with you? Or did he want it rough?”

Aoki’s cheeks grow splotchy, her freckles disappearing under the pink. “It’s—it’s private,” she stammers. She tucks her chin, a lock of auburn hair falling across her face.

“Private?” Blue regards her through squinted eyes. “Don’t you remember what Mistress Eira told us? There’s no such thing as private when it comes to being a Paper Girl.” And though I could be imagining it, I detect a note of bitterness in her voice.

“Ignore them,” I say, and tug on Aoki’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.” My eyes meet Wren’s. Before I can question what I’m doing, I march past the other girls toward her, pulling Aoki with me. “Could you send Master Tekoa our apologies for missing his lesson?” I ask her in a low voice. “Say there’s been a… female emergency.”

Though Wren’s eyebrows knit just a fraction, she gives a curt nod. “Sure.”

“Thank you,” I say.

She shrugs. “It’s nothing,” she says, even though it’s not. If Master Tekoa decides to inquire into our absence, he’ll know Wren lied to him. She’d be punished along with Aoki and me. But I’m counting on the fact that the notion of a female emergency will be too embarrassing for him to press further. Master Tekoa is our only male teacher. The King gives him special permission to come into Women’s Court because Madam Himura insists, claiming he’s the best qi arts practitioner in the whole palace.

The rest of the girls are still watching us, most looking apprehensive. Chenna and the twins get on well with Aoki, and unlike me, they must know what she’s going through. All the girls were sullen the day after their first night with the King—even Mariko and Blue, though I’m sure they wouldn’t admit it now.

With a pointed look in Blue’s direction, as though defying her to intervene, Chenna comes over to us. “I cried all night after the first time,” she says, bending to clasp Aoki’s shoulders.

Aoki blinks, looking up with a sniff. “Really?”

Chenna nods. “It wasn’t easy for me, either.”

Over her head, Wren turns to me. “It’s all right, Lei,” she says. “Go.”

As her eyes meet mine, a spark of heat stirs in my chest. It takes me a moment to realize it’s the first time she’s spoken my name. My single syllable is surprisingly soft on her tongue, light, like a drop of rain. I think of her in the gardens last night, lit by moonlight. What she might have left Paper House for. Not just what—who?

And more: why do I care so much?

I break her gaze and mutter a thanks, quickly leading Aoki away.

The two of us find a secluded veranda at the back of a nearby teahouse to wait out the lesson. It overlooks a rock garden, an old gardener in a wide-brimmed straw hat sweeping the stones with a rake. She doesn’t look up as we kneel side by side on the edge of the porch, and the rhythm of her rake is comforting, a steady scrape that plays under the soundtrack of the teahouse, the chirp of birds in nearby trees.

“You don’t need to tell me about it,” I say into Aoki’s silence. She’s still avoiding my gaze, staring down where she’s playing with the sash at her waist. “I just thought you could use some time away from the others.”

She nods. Tears spring to her eyes. She swipes them away with her sleeve and mumbles thickly, “It’s stupid. It had to happen at some point, and it’s not like I didn’t want it to. I did. I mean, he’s the King. But…” Her voice wavers. “I never guessed it would feel like this.”

I lace my arm round her shoulder. “It was your first time, Aoki. It was bound to affect you. I guess that’s why we’re meant to wait until marriage,” I say, trying to sound like I know what I’m talking about. “So we are sure of the other person. So we’re sure of ourselves.”

Aoki sniffs. “I overheard one of my older sisters talking about it with her friend once. My parents were arranging for her to marry this boy from the neighboring village, and she met with him in secret one night before the deal was final.” She tucks her hair behind one ear and shoots me a wobbly smile. “They did… things. Not everything. But enough that I knew she’d be in serious trouble if my parents found out. But she told my parents the next day that she was happy to marry him.” Her smile disappears. “It must have been a good night,” she adds, muted. Then, even quieter, “I was so scared.”

I gather her to me, something hot flaring to life in my chest. How dare he scare her. Even though I haven’t seen him since the Unveiling Ceremony, I can still picture the King’s handsome face clearly.

I imagine punching it.

Rubbing her nose with one hand, Aoki looks up at me from under tear-wet lashes. “Are you scared? For when it’s your turn?”

Something in the tone of her voice sends a prickle down my spine. “Should I be?”

Aoki turns to the garden with unfocused eyes. “There was this boy in my village,” she starts. “Jun. He worked on the paddy fields, too. We didn’t talk much, but every time I saw him—any time I was near him—my whole body got all hot and I’d be so nervous I could never think what to say. He’d be smiling and I’d just be blushing like an idiot. Each look he gave me was like… like sunlight sweeping over me.” Her voice falters, and tears trace wet paths down her cheeks. Still twisting the sash in her fingers, she murmurs, “I—I thought it would be like that with the King.”

“Maybe you’ll feel that way next time,” I try, swiping her tears away with my fingertips. “Maybe with some people it just takes time.”

“Maybe,” she agrees.

But I can tell she doesn’t believe it.

For the rest of the day, Aoki is sullen. I didn’t realize how much I depended on her happy chatter, for her bubbly mood to lift my own. I try to cheer her up, whispering jokes when our teachers’ backs are turned and stealing for her sugared hopia pastries filled with peanut paste, one of her favorite sweets. But she says she isn’t hungry.

This, coming from a girl who can usually eat ten of these in one sitting and still have room for more.

As if mirroring Aoki’s mood, the weather turns over the course of the day. Heavy clouds roll in, so low I could jump up and touch them. We rush back from our last lesson, making it to Paper House just as it starts to pour.

I bump into Chenna on my way to the toilet. She gives me a nod as she passes, but I touch her shoulder to stop her. “Thank you,” I say. “For earlier.”

She gives me her usual half smile. “It’s all right. I have a little cousin back home. Aoki really reminds me of her. I know she’s sixteen, but she seems so much younger sometimes.”

I nod. “If only Blue and Mariko could leave her alone.”

“Like they do the rest of us?”

Chenna’s face is straight, so it takes me a moment to catch her joke. I let out a laugh. “You’re right. I shouldn’t hold my breath.”

“Anyway,” she says, “Mariko’s actually pretty nice when she’s not around Blue. And I wouldn’t care too much what Blue says.” She looks like she’s about to say something more, so I lean forward, brow furrowing.

“What is it?” I press.

“Well, I don’t really like to talk about other people’s business. But seeing as it’s Blue…” She wets her lips. “Do you know who her father is?”

“Someone important at court, right?”

“Not just someone important—he’s the King’s only Paper caste adviser. Even the Hannos aren’t involved with the King’s council. Everyone knows the King is paranoid when it comes to dealing with the clans. Probably worried he’ll upset them one day and they’ll turn on him. But Blue’s father was exiled from his clan years ago.”

“Why?” I ask.

Chenna shrugs. “There are lots of different rumors. But whatever it was, he ended up here, and because he’s a free agent, the King seems to trust him more than most.”

“What’s this got to do with Blue?”

“Everyone knows her father is after a promotion. The King’s first adviser died earlier this year and he still hasn’t appointed a successor.” Chenna’s coal-black irises don’t leave mine. “Blue is eighteen. She could have been entered into the Paper Girl selection before now. So her father putting her forward for the first time this year seems rather convenient, don’t you think?”

I frown. “But the selection process—”

“Is not mandatory for daughters of court officials.” She nods. “Not that there are many Paper caste court officials anyway, of course. But for the few who are, they’re granted an exception. Unless—”

“The family wants them to be considered, and enters them voluntarily,” I finish.

“What’s more,” Chenna goes on, “I heard some of the maids talking about how it was common knowledge Blue didn’t want to be put forward as a Paper Girl.”

Silence unfolds at this. Out of all the girls, Blue is the one I would have bet on for fighting tooth and nail to be selected. I imagined her following the selection of the Paper Girls since she was young, playing dress-up with her maids, pretending she was one of the chosen.

“Her father used her,” I state, hollow.

“It’s exactly what Blue would have done herself,” Chenna replies with a lift of a shoulder.

The coolness in her voice makes me wince. Tien had told me how Paper caste families offer up their daughters in the hopes of gaining favor with the court. But hearing Chenna talk so frankly about it…

Being traded against your will by your own father can’t feel nice. Even for someone like Blue.

“Chenna,” I say as she moves away, “how do you know all this?”

Something flickers in her dark eyes. “The King talks a lot,” she answers, an edge to her voice. “Especially after a few glasses of sake.”

It’s not until I’m coming back from the toilet that I comprehend the significance of Chenna’s words.

Maybe the one person who can tell me what happened to my mother is the last person I’d ever want to ask.

At dinner, Madam Himura tells us we’ll be attending a dance performance later that evening. “The King will be in attendance,” she says. Her yellow eyes cut to me. “So no mistakes.”

An excited thrum runs through the room. Zhen and Zhin lean their heads in, whispering, and Blue and Mariko swap knowing looks. It’s the first time we’ll be crossing paths with the King in public, and while some of the girls seem happy by this news, a coldness slithers over me at the mention of him.

I glance across the table in Aoki’s direction. She doesn’t make any sign that she’s heard, still poking her food with her chopsticks, head propped on one hand.

When we get up to leave, I notice Blue hanging back. I hover in the doorway, pretending to be adjusting my shoes. As Madam Himura rises from the table, Blue approaches her in a purposeful stride.

“What is it?” the eagle-woman snaps.

Blue rolls her shoulders. “I—I want to know whether my father will be attending the performance tonight,” she declares.

“It’s not my duty to memorize guest lists, girl.”

“But—”

“Send a messenger to ask.”

Blue mumbles something.

“Well,” replies Madam Himura, waving a feathered arm, “that’s not my problem. Your father is an important man. He’ll respond when he sees fit.”

I hurry away before they catch me listening. Something sour turns my stomach, remembering my conversation with Chenna, but it takes me a while to place the feeling because it’s not something I ever thought I’d associate with Blue.

Pity.

Back in my room, Lill hums as she dresses me in velvety amethyst-colored hanfu robes stitched with a floral print. “Tonight, Mistress,” she announces with a grin, “you’re going to look so beautiful the King won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

I arch a brow. “That’s what you said last time. Remember what happened?”

“Don’t remind me!” As she fusses with the positioning of the layered fabrics, she adds, “I overheard one of the court messengers speaking to Madam Himura.” Her grin creeps wider.

“Oh, no.” I grimace. “What now?”

With a clap of her hands, Lill does a little dance on her tiptoes before bursting out, “You’ve been chosen to sit next to the King tonight!”

I look away jerkily, and Lill falters.

“Aren’t… aren’t you happy?”

I answer her through gritted teeth. “Can’t wait.”

“Don’t worry, Mistress,” she says. Her small hand lands on my own. “He’s bound to pick you tomorrow after seeing you like this. I’m sure of it.”

What I don’t tell her is that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.

I can’t deny that every time the royal messenger delivers the bamboo chip and my name isn’t the one on it, it’s started to bring a twist of shame. Along with Blue’s snide comments and Madam Himura’s constant admonishments, it hasn’t been easy being the unchosen girl. Every day I think of General Yu’s threat. How long will they keep me in the palace without being chosen by the King? What happens if he never picks me? Will they throw me out? Somehow I can’t imagine Madam Himura sending me merrily on my way, a packed lunch and some money in my pocket, wishing me and my family all the best for the future.

But even the fear of what could happen has been outshadowed by relief. Of not having to face the King for one more day, at least. Of being able to ignore the real reason I’m in the palace in the first place. And while I’ve discovered that a month is not long enough to forget a face such as his, it is enough time to create distance from that face, and the demon it belongs to.

Later that evening, as we travel through the palace to where the dance recital is being held, his presence starts to reveal itself, like smoke on the wind, a bitter taste that knots my stomach.

Rain pounds on the carriages as we pull up to one of the Inner Court theaters. The dark wood walls of the theater are slick from the deluge. Over the sound of the storm, music thrums from within: the melancholy song of an erhu, piping reeds, low drumbeats. A troop of umbrella-wielding servants usher us inside. We file into the theater’s main hall, a grand, circular room. At the center is a round stage ringed by cushions.

Mistress Eira takes my arm. “You’re with me, Lei.” She smiles, leading me to the front row.

Around us, court members in an array of demon forms are taking their places, shadows distorted by the lantern glow. My breaths come more shallowly as we kneel on our cushions, and I hold myself stiffly, trying not to flinch each time I hear the heavy drop of hooves. To distract myself, I focus on the stage. There’s a dusting of snowlike powder sprinkled across it.

Mistress Eira follows my gaze. “Sugar dust,” she says.

I look round. “What is it for?”

“The dancers kick it up with their movements so it settles onto our clothes and skin. It’s more for display, really. But it’s also said to encourage sensual thoughts.” Her voice drops. “Men and women will know their lovers’ skin will taste sweet later tonight.”

An image flares into my mind: the King, leaning in close, a thick tongue sliding out to run along my bare collarbones.

“I—I can’t do it,” I say suddenly. Pushing my palms into the floor, I start to my feet. “I can’t, I won’t—”

Mistress Eira seizes my arm. “Hush, Lei!” she hisses, yanking me back down with pinching fingers. “You can never speak this way in public. Never. Do you understand? Imagine if word got back to Madam Himura. To the King.” She waits as an elegant-looking lion-form demon strides past, his arm looped over the shoulder of a smaller lion-form male. They share a chaste press of their snouted noses as they pass. Relaxing her grip a little, Mistress Eira continues, “I understand your fear, but you have to see it as just another aspect of your job. Not even one that takes too long—a few hours and you’ll be back in Paper House. And while I can’t promise that you’ll enjoy it, it might not be as bad as you feared. Remember, even that which seems impossible at first can be overcome by strength of mind and heart.”

It’s an old saying, one everybody in Ikhara is familiar with. I turn it over on my tongue, hunting for comfort in its words. For some reason, it makes me think of Wren. The way her eyes often gaze into the distance during dinners and lessons, as though she’s retreating somewhere deep within herself. Is this how she copes with sleeping with the King? Protecting her true self by folding it away where he can’t reach?

I look across the stage to where she’s sat opposite me, expecting to find her staring off into the distance. But my breath catches—because she’s looking straight at me. And this time, instead of emptiness, Wren’s eyes shimmer brightly with fire.

Then a voice rings out through the theater, and our connection breaks. “Honorable members of the court, presenting our Heavenly Master, our gods’ blessed ruler and commander of all beings who walk the mortal realm, the King!”

Every member of the audience drops into a bow. My cheeks are still flushed from Wren’s look as I lower my forehead to the floor, but the rest of my body is clammy. Silence claims the hall. The only sounds are the rustling of fabric and the thrum of rain on the roof. And, beneath my ribs, the frantic slam of my heart. It seems impossible that no one else can hear it. Even now, Baba and Tien must be raising their heads in Xienzo from their late dinner after another busy day to wonder what that distant drumming sound is.

The hall is quiet for a few moments more. Then—hoof-fall.

I fight the urge to jump up as they approach in a slow gait, coming to a stop right beside me. Heat ripples from the King’s body as he kneels down, close, not touching but so near his presence is as heavy as a sky full of storm clouds, and the smell of him fills my nose; that sharp scent of bull, raw and masculine.

“Heavenly Master,” I murmur along with the rest of the room. There are rustling sounds as everyone in the audience sits back up. I straighten, my eyes locked on the floor, aware of his stare.

“Lei-zhi,” he says, drawing the letters out. There’s a smirk in his voice. “Am I to always find you face-first on the floor?”

“If that is where you want me.” I inject the words with as much derision as I dare, adding a quick “Heavenly Master” for good measure.

His boom of laughter shudders deep, right down to my bones. “So, how have you found your first month at the palace? I hope it has been enjoyable.”

“In… some ways,” I answer carefully.

“In some ways! Tell me those that disagree with you, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Oh, just the small fact that I’m a prisoner here. But I keep my eyes down and mumble instead, “The days start very early. And we have a lot of lessons. And the food could be better, I suppose.”

Again, his laughter rattles me. “Now, I know at least that last one’s a lie. We have the most superior chefs in all of Ikhara. I challenge you to find better. But perhaps,” he goes on, his tone cooling somewhat, “your tongue hasn’t become accustomed to fine food yet. I can only imagine what your meals were like in Xienzo. Do not worry, Lei-zhi. I am sure your tongue will become accustomed to palace delicacies soon enough.”

The double meaning in his words jolts me, but I only have a few seconds to falter before he speaks again, his voice flat and serious now.

“The court tells me you’re blessed with eyes leant by the Moon Goddess herself. Show them to me.”

With a deep inhalation, arranging my face into as calm an expression as I can muster, I lift my chin. And finally, after all these weeks, the King’s cool gaze meets mine.

His spine stiffens. Not in fear, or even surprise. But the way a cat goes still when it’s spotted a mouse. How the world grows silent before the roar of a storm. His stillness seems to ripple through the room until everything is frozen, everyone focused on the two of us, the fix of golden eyes on blue.

A smile sneaks across his lips, accenting his pointed cupid’s bow. “So. They weren’t exaggerating.”

I bow my head. “I am humbled by your compliment, Heavenly Master,” I force out.

There’s a pause. “You haven’t thanked me for my other one.”

I jerk my chin up. “The—the other one?”

“You must have been wondering why I haven’t called you to me yet, no?” The King leans down until his face is just a hairsbreadth from mine and curls a hand round my cheek, holding me with just a fraction too much pressure. “Didn’t you know, Lei-zhi,” he murmurs, grin sharpening, “I always save the best for last.”

The announcer’s voice sounds again, signaling the start of the show. But the King doesn’t look away—and I don’t dare to.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a sleek dog-form dancer entering the stage. A lone string melody starts up. The dog-girl launches into movement. Scarlet ribbons tied round her wrists fly out in long, rippling waves. She dances across the stage, lifts high with fast kicks of her slender haunches, turning the air around her into a whirl of red.

A shower of sugar dust falls over us. Slowly, not taking his eyes off mine, the King runs a thumb over my lips and raises it to his own, tasting it with his tongue.

“Delicious,” he growls.

The next day, the name painted on the bamboo chip is mine.