Then the moment breaks. Everything comes roaring back. The lizard’s horrible sounds as he bucks beneath me. The panda-woman’s yelling. Running footsteps thunder down the corridor—more guards.
I let go of the noose so suddenly it throws the panda soldier’s weight off. She tumbles back with a grunt. I fall against her, and the next moment other guards are upon me, too many to fight, powerful hands twisting my arms behind me.
My mouth is prized open. Someone pushes the familiar bitterness of sedative herbs past my lips.
I swallow them, and when the darkness comes a few seconds later to drag me under, what I feel is gratitude.
For the first time since I was stolen back to the palace, I wake in a new room.
The warmth gives it away. Eyes still shut, I feel sunlight and the softness of bedding, both foreign after weeks of darkness and cold stone against my spine. The air is sweet: peonies and tea, with an undercurrent of muskiness the pleasant fragrances fail to mask. Something about the odor tugs at my memory. As I blink my eyes open, still groggy from the herbs, I brush the blanket draped across my body—only to realize I’m naked beneath it.
I jerk upright. Gripping the sheet to my chest, I look around wildly, teeth bared, primed to fight. But the room is empty.
Slowing my breaths, I push the hair back from my face with my free hand. I’m expecting tangles; long weeks in a cell and countless interrogation sessions haven’t exactly done wonders for my beauty regime. But my fingers glide smoothly through.
I’ve been washed. My stomach knots at the thought of hands on my body while I lay unconscious. Then I huff a barbed laugh. Why should I expect anything less? This is the Hidden Palace. Here, my body is something for demons to do with as they please. This is what the court does best: taking things and scrubbing them blank. Paper isn’t just a caste to them. It is a state, an expectation of what we should be. Weak. Blank. Something to tear. Something to use and discard without a second thought.
My heart pulses darkly. Because I learned long ago that Paper has its own power—the ability to ignite, re-form, evolve. And the young human girl they’ve brought back to the palace is not the same girl she was the first time around.
Focus, I tell myself. Remember Caen’s training. Assess your surroundings. Everything has the potential to be your undoing—or your route to victory.
I take stock of the room. Though carved from the same cream-white marble of my cell, these walls and floors are softened with furnishings. Silks flutter over half drawn shutters. A rattan mat stretches from one end of the room to the other. I’m on a bed in one corner of the room. Across from me is a low table surrounded by cushions. The table has been set with two cups, one near empty, feathers of steam still rising from within.
Someone was here recently.
Under the tea, that sharp-musky odor jerks my recollection again. But I still can’t place it, and instead of wasting time chasing old memories I turn my attention to the windows.
I’m on my feet in seconds, wrapping the blanket around my body as I move to the nearest window and shove the folding shutters aside. I scramble onto the ledge, almost crying out at the blast of cold spring air, gloriously soul-wakening with its birdsong and sunlight and the tantalizing promise of freedom—
Talons click behind me.
“Get down from there, Lei-zhi,” orders a throaty voice.
I freeze, still contorted in an awkward jumble of limbs, the blanket twisted so much it’s almost hiked up to my waist. But I don’t turn. Now my eyes have adjusted to the light, I can’t bring myself to look away from the view.
We’re high up, at least three stories. Blocks of squat buildings stretch into the distance, punctured in places by green courtyards and wide squares. A river glitters under the noonday sun. My eyes are drawn to the far left, where a verdant landscape of gardens and forests rolls out. Birds wheel over the distant treetops in swirling formations, so familiar because of how many times I stared out of a different window in this same place, longing with all of my being that I could join them.
And there, far in the distance—the reason I never could.
Towering walls of midnight stone.
I’d known where I was all this time, of course, but it hits me afresh to actually see it. I’d once believed I’d never see these streets and courtyards again. I’d been so sure of it.
We’d been so sure of it.
“Lei-zhi!” The harsh voice barks at my back. “Get down from there at once! This is no way for a Paper Girl to behave.”
Paper Girl.
The words carry an extra weight to their usual sting.
Wrestling my face into as neutral an expression as I can manage, I slide from the ledge. “Madam Himura,” I say graciously, turning to face her. “How wonderful to see you again.”
She glares, her yellow eagle eyes narrow. The feathers at her neck are ruffled—a telltale sign of anger—and she’s gripping her bone-handled cane so tightly I’m amazed it hasn’t cracked.
I hold myself tall, bracing for the inevitable attack, the violent force of Madam Himura we all grew so accustomed to. Though only a supervisor of courtesans, the old eagle-woman has always carried herself with the authority of an army general, able to keep us in order equally viciously with words or blows.
In the end, she only points a winged arm toward the table. “Sit,” she says, almost tiredly. “And don’t bother wasting any more of my time trying to escape. There are guards outside, and many more throughout the building.”
“I could leave by the window,” I suggest stubbornly.
“Can you fly?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never tried.”
Madam Himura waves an arm. “Go ahead, then, girl. It makes no difference to me.” When I don’t move, she snaps, “I didn’t think so,” before stomping to the table.
I don’t join her. Still glaring, I start, “Where are—”
“We are in Royal Court, in the King’s palace. This is the Moon Annexe.”
The Moon Annexe. Dimly, I recall an early lesson as a Paper Girl in our other warden Mistress Eira’s suite, where she described the various areas of the palace. The King’s fortress in Royal Court is the largest building in the Hidden Palace, carved from the same dark rock as the perimeter wall. Conversely, the Moon Annexe is a ring in the eastern part of the building cut from white marble, as recommended by the architects for optimal prosperity. If I’m remembering correctly, it houses offices for high-ranking court members, along with rooms for entertaining and guest suites.
I shoot a look at the door, then the window, trying to conjure up escape routes. Yet now I’ve seen exactly where we are, I know any attempts would be futile.
At least, not without some proper planning.
Reluctantly, I join Madam Himura at the table. She reaches to fill my cup, and I arch a brow. “No maids?” I’ve never seen Madam Himura so much as lift a winged arm for anything—apart from to hit us with.