I THOUGHT BLUE MIGHT STOP CALLING me Nine now that our numbers have dropped back down to the usual eight, but it’s the first thing she does when I arrive in the bathing courtyard the following morning.

“You let me down, Nine,” she says, thin lips curving. “I bet the others you’d be the one to be thrown out.”

I stiffen. Lill tugs on my elbow. “Ignore her, Mistress,” she mumbles. She tries to pull me onward, but I don’t move.

Blue is lying back in her tub, arms slung over its sides. Her collarbones are as sharp as a pair of featherless wings, stretched across her narrow chest like a necklace, and her breasts below—which she exposes without any hint of self-consciousness—are just as pointed.

Blue is all angles. Mind and body.

I meet her eyes with my own narrowed. “I hope you didn’t bet a lot. From what Madam Himura said, it doesn’t sound like your father will help you with your debts.”

The easy chatter of the courtyard drops in an instant. The only sounds are the coos of birds nesting in the eaves, the splash of water as the other girls shift uncomfortably.

Blue’s lip curls. “Don’t pretend to know anything about my life. What could an herb-shop owner’s daughter from Xienzo know? Especially one whose own mother left her family to become a whore.”

Her words hit me like a slap.

“What did you say?”

“News travels fast in the palace, Nine. Better get used to it.” She rises out of the barrel, wearing her nakedness proudly, like armor, eyeing me with a stare that dares me to look away. “It’s a shame your mother didn’t stick around,” she adds, picking a bathrobe from the nearest maid and wrapping it around her slim frame. “I bet she’d be so proud to see her daughter following in her footsteps.”

And then I’m running at her, snarling, my fingers flexing as though they could grow claws. I’m inches away from scraping her face off—that horrible, smug face, how dare she—when there’s a blur of movement at my side. Before I can react, a pair of arms encircle me, pulling me off my feet.

“Let go!” I yell, kicking out, but the girl’s grip is strong. She pins me against her, one elbow hooked at my waist, the other across the front of my body. A scent unfurls from her skin: something fresh, oceanlike.

Somehow I know it’s Cat-girl.

Blue’s face, shaken for a moment, settles quickly back into a sneer. “Well,” she says, fixing the tie of her bathrobe. “That’s no way for a Paper Girl to behave.”

“Enough, Blue,” Cat-girl snaps. “Before Madam Himura or Mistress Eira hear.”

I expect Blue to shoot back a scathing comment, or at least take offense at the way Cat-girl spoke to her. But after glaring at me a while more, she shrugs. “I suppose you’re right. No point wasting their time over something so petty.”

My hands wrap into fists. “Calling my mother a whore isn’t petty!” I shout.

Blue rounds on me again, then stops at the look Cat-girl gives her. With a toss of her hair, she stalks back into the house, leaving a trail of wet footprints across the courtyard’s boarded floor.

As soon as Cat-girl releases me, I whirl around to face her. “You should’ve let me claw her face off!” I growl.

She regards me coolly. “Perhaps.” Then she turns to leave, pausing first to add, “I am getting tired of that sneer.”

The comment—almost humorous—disarms me, and I watch her go in silence. Damp hair cascades in a tousle to the low dip of her back. Her bathrobe has come off one shoulder to reveal a curve of smooth tanned skin, rosy-brown. I gave her the nickname Cat-girl because of the shape of her eyes, the keen, feline intelligence in them. But the way she moves is catlike, too. My eyes track her shifting hips, an unfamiliar warmth turning my belly.

“Mistress!” Lill grabs my arm, making me start. “Are you all right?”

“What’s that girl’s name?” I ask distractedly.

She follows my gaze. “Oh, Mistress Wren? I thought you might have heard of her already.”

This makes me look round. “Why?”

“Mistress Wren is the daughter of Lord and Lady Hanno.”

I recall the two blue-caped men on horseback I saw on the road to the palace. No wonder Blue listens to Cat-girl. If she really is a Hanno, the most powerful Paper caste clan in the kingdom—and daughter of their leader, no less—it explains why she’s been acting so superior.

Not that it condones it.

“Wren,” I murmur to myself, testing the name. It’s wrong, too gentle on the tongue. Wrens are the noisy little birds that fly in pairs around our house in Xienzo, all chirping and dull brown feathers. The word doesn’t seem to fit this silent, solitary girl, who is more like the cat that would stalk the birds before pouncing.

After breakfast, Mistress Eira calls us for our first lesson. Lill prepares me carefully. She fixes my hair into a sleek double-knot at the nape of my neck before dressing me in a fuchsia ruqun—a wrap-front shirt with draped sleeves and a floor-length skirt, secured by a sash that falls down its front in a long-tailed bow. Apparently it’s another clothing style popular with central Ikhara’s high-class clans, but I am stiff and self-conscious in it, even though the fabric is soft.

“I’m not even leaving the house!” I say as Lill fusses over the bow for a good few minutes. “Does it have to be perfect?”

She shoots me a surprisingly stern look. “You’re a Paper Girl now, Mistress. You never know who you might run into. Who is judging you at any time.” Then she lightens. “You know, it’s important you win the favor of the court if you want to win the Demon King’s heart.”

“Like he even has one,” I mutter when she’s out of earshot.

The other girls are already there when I arrive at Mistress Eira’s suite. They’re kneeling around a table with a stove set into the middle, steam rising from a copper kettle. On the walls are richly colored rolls of velvet and embroidered satin, all fluttering in the breeze coming in through the open doors at the back of the room. Through them, I glimpse the green of a courtyard garden, speckled with morning light.

“Lei-zhi, what a beautiful outfit,” Mistress Eira says with a smile. She motions to a space next to Aoki. “Would you like some barley tea? I know how you girls must be feeling after yesterday’s assessments. There’s nothing better for nerves.”

I kneel, careful to fold my skirt under the back of my legs so it won’t fan out. Then, realizing what I’m doing, I let out a disbelieving laugh. Just a week ago I was squatting in a mixing tub, covered in dirt. Manners and etiquette were the last things on my mind.

Mistress Eira lifts a brow. “Something amusing, Lei-zhi?”

“Oh.” I pick at the tails of my bow under the table. “I was just… remembering something that happened earlier.”

A few of the girls stiffen—they must be worried I’m going to bring up what happened in the bathing courtyard. But that’s the last thing I want Mistress Eira to know about. I highly doubt fighting is on the list of skills a Paper Girl should cultivate. Oh, hey, King! Check out my amazing whip kick!

“I keep tripping in my shoes,” I make up lamely.

Mistress Eira nods. “Ah, yes. I remember. It took me a long time to get used to them, too.” She looks around the table, and even this, the simple sweep of her head, has an elegance to it, a precision. “I don’t know how much you all know about my heritage. Most of you are from prominent families. You’ve grown up with the customs of the court. But I spent my childhood working for my family’s sari-making business in southern Kitori. When I first arrived at the palace, I was as graceful as a duck drunk on plum wine, heavens help me.”

A few of the girls titter.

“No one would know, Mistress,” Blue says, her tone honeyed. “My father told me you were the King’s favorite.”

Aoki lets out a cough that sounds suspiciously like a snort.

Ignoring her, Blue continues, “Didn’t he personally choose you to become the Paper Girl mentor so we could all learn to be like you?”

“Well, I’m not sure about that,” Mistress Eira replies with a half smile. “But it’s true my transformation was pronounced. It took a lot of hard work and dedication to prove myself. That’s why I take my job as your mentor so seriously. Whatever your backgrounds, you start at the same level here. Madam Himura and I have organized a rigorous timetable of lessons. You’ll be replaced by new girls next year, but you’re still expected to work in the court—as performers, or escorts for the King’s guests, and so on—so it’s important to keep cultivating your nu skills.”

Just then, one of the girls speaks up. “Will we have any time off, Mistress Eira? I have a cousin who works in City Court. I promised my parents I’d visit her.”

It takes me a moment to recall her name: Chenna, the dark-skinned girl who was wearing an orange dress—a sari, as Lill later explained, a style popular in the Southern provinces—the night we arrived. Today, her sari is citrus-yellow. It sets off the smooth gloss of her skin, the coal shade of her wide, heavy-lashed eyes.

“You’ll have some time between your lessons and engagements with the court,” Mistress Eira answers, “but it’s important for you”—she turns to us—“for all of you, to understand that you don’t have free time to yourselves here in the palace. You can’t just leave Women’s Court as and when you like.” Her voice softens. “Don’t get me wrong. You can live very happy lives as Paper Girls, I assure you. I myself have. But we are all part of the rhythms and workings of the palace, and so we must play the parts expected of us.”

She begins a lecture on some of the palace’s many rules and regulations. There are rules for things I wouldn’t even have thought of, such as the depth of a bow or the speed at which we should walk in different areas of the palace.

“Soon she’ll say we have to regulate our bowel movements, too,” I whisper to Aoki, who stifles a giggle.

“This is just an introduction, of course,” Mistress Eira says once she’s finished with the lesson, a full hour later. “You’ll learn everything else you need to know from your teachers in due course. But does anyone have any questions for now?”

Only about everything. But I don’t admit it.

“I have one,” one of the twins announces. After Mistress Eira nods, she leans forward and drops her voice a fraction. “Is it true that there is a Demon Queen?”

Murmurs ripple through the room. Nonplussed, I glance at Aoki. She shrugs. It seems the two of us are the only ones who haven’t heard of her before.

Mistress Eira waits for quiet. Then she answers, “Yes.” A pulse of expectant stillness falls over the table. “Most people outside the palace aren’t aware of her existence because she’s hidden. Kept in private quarters in Royal Court for the sole purpose of breeding.”

“My father told me there is more than one queen,” Blue says.

“Then he was misinformed,” Mistress Eira answers, and Blue’s face does a little spasm as she tries to look like she didn’t mind being wrong. “There is only one. The royal fortune-tellers and advisers couple her carefully with each new King when he takes the throne to ensure a union the heavens will smile upon.”

I swallow, glancing round the table. “None—none of us could become the queen, could we?”

“Certainly not. You are Paper castes. It is impossible for you to produce the Moon caste heir that would be required. In fact, each time you spend a night with the King, you will be given medicine to keep you from becoming pregnant.”

While I don’t know much about inter-caste procreation, I do know that although it is difficult for a man and woman from different castes to conceive, especially a Paper caste female and a Moon caste male, it’s still possible. I suppose the King wouldn’t want to lose his concubines to miscarriages. Or worse, give him a low-caste baby. In a coupling, the higher caste’s gene is usually dominant, but we’ve all heard the stories of couples being taken by surprise.

“Has the current queen given the King any children yet?” Chenna asks from across the table.

Blue’s eyes go wide. She shares a look with the short-haired girl sitting next to her.

Mistress Eira lifts a hand. “That is a private matter between them, not to mention a… sensitive issue. I strongly suggest none of you inquire into it any further.” She tilts her head, her face relaxing. “Let’s eat. You must all be hungry.”

As lunch is served, we chatter easily at the table. Maids duck between us to keep our plates and cups full. Perhaps Mistress Eira’s barley tea really does work, because halfway through the meal my nerves have calmed. I’m starting to enjoy the afternoon—the serene comfort of Mistress Eira’s suite, the food, the company of the other girls.

It’s the first chance I’ve really had to get to know them. Besides Aoki, Blue, and Wren, there is Chenna, who I learn is from Jana’s capital, Uazu, in the South and is the only daughter of a rich mine owner. I like her immediately. She comes across as reserved, though not shy. When one of the other girls asks her whether she misses her family, she says yes without hesitation.

The twins are Zhen and Zhin. Their delicate features and alabaster skin are so similar I can barely tell them apart. I overhear them telling Chenna about their aristocratic family in Han, which, judging by her reaction, is apparently well known in Ikhara. Of course it would be—aristocratic Paper caste families are rare. Enterprise and government are areas for Moon castes. Even Steels are mostly limited to industry and trade. Paper castes usually occupy the lowest roles: servants, farmers, manual laborers. Sometimes the caste lines are crossed. Zhen and Zhin’s family, as well as Blue’s and Wren’s, are testaments to that. But it’s uncommon.

And still, there’s always the knowledge that no matter how high a human might rise, demons will always be superior.

The last in our group is Mariko, a curvaceous girl with full lips and a perfectly oval face, enhanced by cropped hair that cups her chin in two winglike sweeps. Mariko and Blue seem to have become friends. They drop their heads together to whisper often, shooting me smug looks over the table. I get so fed up of this that the next time they cut their eyes to me I beam back, waving.

There’s a snort. I glance round to find Wren watching me, her eyes lit with amusement. But as soon as she sees me notice, the smile drops from her face. She crooks her neck round, shoulders stiff.

“What’s her problem?” I ask Aoki under my breath, scowling in Wren’s direction. “She’s barely said a word to anyone. It’s like she wants us to dislike her.”

Aoki leans her head close. “Well, you know what they say about the Hannos.” At my blank look, she goes on, “You know how most Paper castes hate them for being so close to the King? She must be aware of that. I can’t imagine it’s easy.”

It takes me a moment to understand what she’s telling me. That Wren may act like she hates all of us, but maybe it’s because she’s worried that we hate her.

After lunch, Mistress Eira takes us out to her small courtyard garden. It’s beautiful. The trees and bushes are strung with colorful beads, yellow flowers dotting the green like precious jewels. Gilded cages hang from the eaves. The twitters of the birds inside rise above the babbling pool that loops round a central island mounted by a small pagoda. Something about the place reminds me of my garden back in Xienzo, the slightly overgrown edges, or maybe just the sound of birdsong and the warm sunshine on my face.

Eyes stinging, I hurry away from the other girls, heading down a narrow stone path, suddenly wanting to be alone. I settle on a bench half hidden by a magnolia tree. Curling cups of pink-white leaves form a ceiling overhead. The afternoon air is rich and sweet, full of the scents of blossom and sun-warmed wood and the conversations of the other girls. I recognize the voices of Chenna and Aoki, just around the corner.

“So you’ve heard about them, too?” Chenna says.

“I thought they were only happening in the North. There was one not far from where we live in the East of Shomu, and I heard reports of others in the rest of our province. Xienzo and Noei, too.”

“I think it’s all the periphery provinces. We’ve had some in Jana, too.” “My Ahma told me the King’s patrols have always performed raids,” Aoki replies. “Especially on villages where Paper caste clans live. But there’s more now. And from what we hear, they’re… different. Even worse.”

“Has anyone you know…” Chenna’s voice trails off.

I imagine Aoki shaking her head. “You?”

“No. The court would never attack the capitals.” There’s a pause, and then Chenna goes on, “But on my way to the palace we passed a town near the northern border—or what was a town. There was barely anything of it left. My mother told me she had a friend who had family there. Kunih help their souls,” she blesses quietly.

“I saw places like that on my way here, too,” Aoki murmurs.

“Do you think it has anything to do with the Sickness?”

“I don’t know. But I do know that the Sickness has been getting worse. My parents told me our taxes have gone up, and more and more of our crops are getting seized by royal soldiers every year. It must be getting pretty bad in some places.”

They move away, and my thoughts drift with them. I don’t know what the Sickness is, but they were talking about the raids, like the one that happened to my village, and the ruined town I saw on my way to the palace. It must be happening all over Ikhara. General Yu said the one we saw in Xienzo had to do with a rebel group. Is that why other places are being attacked, too? And was that what he meant when he said to Mistress Eira that the kingdom is facing hard times? Increased rebel activity, and whatever this Sickness is?

“What do you think?”

Mistress Eira’s voice surprises me from my thoughts. I hurriedly stand and give her a bow, which she waves me out of, smiling.

“A-about the raids?” I ask, before realizing she doesn’t know what I overheard Aoki and Chenna discussing.

“About my garden,” she corrects with a frown. “Do you like it?”

I nod. “It’s lovely.”

She sits down on the bench, motioning for me to join her. “I’m so glad you like it. Sometimes in summer I sleep out here in the pagoda. It reminds me of my childhood. We used to do that, too, when the weather was good.”

“You said your family were sari-makers from Kitori?”

Mistress Eira nods. “We were well known in the region. There was always lots of work. My cousins and I would tell jokes, exchange gossip as we washed in the river after work to get the dyes out of our skin.” She raises her palms and adds, muted, “Sometimes I dream about being unable to get the colors out. When I wake up and find my hands bare, it almost makes me want to cry.” She lets out a little laugh and shakes her head. “I’m being nostalgic.”

“Do you miss it?” I ask gently. “Your home?”

There’s a beat of hesitation before she replies. “This is my home now, Lei-zhi.” She lays a hand on my shoulder. “You should try to start thinking of it that way, too.”

I look away. “My home is Xienzo. My parents’ house. It always will be.”

Even after Mama was taken, Baba, Tien, and I kept it going. We made a new family. We kept our home alive. How can I just let go of that?

I remember the promise I made to myself on the way to the palace.

I won’t let go of it. Whatever it takes, I’m going to get back.

“Mistress,” I say quickly, an idea coming to me. “Do you think I could write to them? My father and Tien? Just let them know I’m well. Nothing more, I promise.”

At first it seems like she’s going to say no. But with a half smile, she replies, “Of course, Lei. What a nice idea. I’ll make sure you’re given paper and ink.”

I grin, forcing myself to remain dignified and not throw my arms around her in a giant bear hug. I picture my father and Tien reading my letters together. Even from the other side of the kingdom they’ll be able to touch something I’ve touched, feel my presence in each indent on the paper. They’ll know I’m safe. And, always, that I am thinking of them.

“Make sure to bring your letters to me when they’re done,” Mistress Eira instructs. “I’ll give them to my most trusted messenger to deliver.”

“Of course. Thank you, Mistress. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

She returns my smile. But just before she turns away something flutters across her eyes: the barest shadow of sadness. Perhaps it’s all this talk about the past, about life before the palace. I recall what Mistress Eira said about waking up from dreams of her childhood, her once dye-stained hands delicate and bare, and comprehend that although she might have avoided answering my question about whether she misses her home, I am sure of what the answer would be anyway.

I know what it means to dream about the past.

To dream about things you have loved, and lost.