“She was raised in an invisible manor house,” Woo In pointed out dryly. “She’ll be fine. Besides, from the looks of it, the kid would have been sick however we traveled.”
It was my first time in a mule-and-box—in anything with wheels. After leaving Bhekina House, we had crossed two realms in two weeks. By mule, camel, or river barge, the trip would have taken months. But we had traveled by lodestone: a powerful, hazardous magic that dissolved bodies and reformed them leagues away. Ports were scattered throughout Aritsar, guarded by imperial soldiers. Whenever we passed through them, Kathleen had forced my face beneath a hood.
“Stay down,” she had grunted. “You’re The Lady’s spitting image.”
I didn’t understand why resembling my mother was dangerous. In fact—in the thrill of adventure—I often forgot all about The Lady’s wish. Her lethal words grew hazy as I witnessed marvels from my books and scrolls. Town. Market. Mountain. Lake. Forest. In a world so big, what were the chances of meeting that boy in the portrait?
After the first lodestone crossing, I had vomited my breakfast onto Kathleen’s boots. The Imperial Guard warriors had warned against traveling by lodestone more than once a month, but Woo In had insisted on two crossings a week.
After the fourth crossing, my left arm vanished.
I had nearly fainted in terror, and the limb flickered a few times before deciding, at last, to return. Woo In had relented then, switching us to a mule-and-box. We endured hours of stiff, dusty travel, stopping only to sleep at mudbrick village inns. I inhaled ginger soup to settle my stomach before collapsing onto a straw bedroll, too exhausted to dream.
Today, the lodestone nausea had finally begun to subside. After retching into the bowl, I felt much better, and I leaned curiously from the mule-and-box window. Our destination of Oluwan was coastal, a land of ferny palms and orange groves, with long, warm days and cool, rain-kissed nights. My heart thrummed as the unfamiliar landscape rushed by: bumpy plains of green and gold, dotted with lakes and palm trees. I gulped the morning air. It tasted like citrus and salt water.
“Little demon,” hissed Kathleen when she noticed me. She tried to pull me back, grappling with my blue cotton wrapper. “For Am’s sake—someone could see, you brat. Stay down!”
“I won’t,” I said, gasping in laughter as the wind whipped my beaded braids. “I’ll never stay away from a window again.”
“You won’t live to see another,” Kathleen threatened, managing to wrestle me down at last. “Not if you keep making a spectacle. You’re a secret, brat. You’re not supposed to exist.”
I frowned. “Because my father’s an ehru?”
“It would not matter if your father was the devil,” Kathleen said. “To the emperor, your mother will always be the greater threat.”
I pressed her, but Kathleen refused to say anything more. So I sulked, scooting away from her and joining Woo In on his side of the cramped sitting space.
I still hadn’t forgiven Woo In for kissing The Lady’s hand, but at least he left me alone. Half the time he hardly spoke at all, except to mutter sarcastic remarks, or to curse when his birthmarks glowed.
“Those pictures hurt you, don’t they?” I frowned up at him. “Why didn’t the map go away when you came back from the Breach?”
Woo In stiffened. “The map will disappear when the nightmares do,” he said sourly.
I knew better than to ask more questions, but curiosity gnawed at me. How old had Woo In been when his parents gave him up to the abiku? What had the Underworld been like?
Once, at an inn, I had pretended to sleep as Woo In gazed through our second-story window. His shoulders had trembled, and after a moment, I realized he was sobbing. As if fleeing from monsters only he could see, he threw on his silk cape and leapt from the window. Then he soared above the dark rooftops, his lean body silhouetted against the moon.
“Can all Songlanders fly?” I asked him, jostling his shoulder in the mule-and-box.
His smooth brow furrowed, displeased that I knew his secret. “No. It’s my Hallow.”
“Hallow?”
“My birth gift. Only those with Hallows may serve The Lady. All of us have one.”
All of us. The phrase made me curious: How many friends did The Lady have? “Do you have a Hallow?” I asked Kathleen.
She nodded. “I can change the appearance of whoever I please. Including you, though I think the lodestones have jumbled your insides quite enough already.” She scowled out the window, growing thoughtful. “My gift comes in handy, since Mewish people gawk at isokens. At least in Oluwan City, no one cares if I’m striped or spotted.”
“Show me,” I begged, and suddenly, instead of Kathleen, a second Woo In sat across from me. I jumped, grabbing the first Woo In’s arm in fright. But now he was Kathleen.
“Greetings, Lady’s Daughter,” droned the illusion Woo In, flipping its straight jet hair. “It is I, your sullen nanny prince. Watch as I brood over my tragic childhood.”
Illusion Kathleen rolled its eyes. “Very funny.”
Kathleen shimmered back into her own skin and restored Woo In’s face.
“Prince?” I echoed, frowning. My tutors had made me memorize the living members of every dynasty on the continent, and I’d never heard of a Prince Woo In. Queen Hye Sun of Songland had only one heir: Crown Princess Min Ja.
“I didn’t make it onto many records,” Woo In said flatly. “It’s something they avoid when you’re born cursed.”
Our box neared the city gates. The roads grew broad, and the air rang with hoofbeats and voices. A highway ran alongside the broad Olorun River, and cargo-laden barges floated up and down on the current. Drums and laughter sounded as men rowed and sang. Now Kathleen hid me more than ever, but I managed a peek at the horizon, and my heart raced with wonder.
The skyline swelled with golden domes and ghostly white high-rises. Mist shrouded the towering city walls, and the Olorun River curved around the city like a steaming blue serpent. When the roads grew too crowded for our mule-and-box, we switched to a tasseled palanquin. I peered, breathless, through the gauzy curtains as runners carried us through the gates and into the city.
Streets and lofty skyways bustled with merchants and pack mules, jeering children and haughty scholars, storytelling priests and streetside hair braiders. Hawkers sold everything from kola nuts to kaftans, caged sprites to mewling hyena cubs. Obsidian tributes to Enoba the Perfect glittered in every square.
The oldest and most wealthy Oluwan families, Kathleen told me, were known as bluebloods: blue, because their skin was so black, it shone like precious cobalt. But as the Arit empire had grown, so too had Oluwan City. Now it sported every complexion under the sun, every tongue, every spice and fabric. Curry, lavender, and cayenne pepper mixed curiously in the air. Tartan wool from the north, silk from the south, and traditional wax-dyed cloth from the center realms hung side by side on clotheslines. Music and dialects from ten thousand miles apart melted together in one deafening din.
“Don’t let her see the Watching Wall,” Kathleen barked as we passed deeper into the city. Woo In obeyed her, seizing my protesting limbs and planting a hand over my eyes. I still managed to peek through his fingers … but I didn’t understand what I saw.