CHAPTER 14

“Twelve realms,” I swore, hanging back to hide behind Ai Ling. “It just looks so . . . intimate.”

A low, sky-blue tent sat near a reflecting pool, perfume wafting lightly from the drapery. White gravel paths and fragrant orange trees dotted the side of Palace Hill. After the Rising, Ai Ling and I had hurried to the Imperial Orchard Garden, where I would hold my first meeting with Min Ja of Songland.

The outdoor gathering had been Ai Ling’s idea. She insisted that gardens were more neutral than salons, encouraging friendliness and vulnerability.

Well. I felt vulnerable all right.

Cozy carpets and mudcloth pillows decorated the tent’s insides, and brunch waited on carved teak trays, along with pitchers of water and spiked orange punch. The tent could easily have held five people, though we couldn’t stand without the canvas grazing our hair. A brazier of kuso-kuso leaves lay unlit, and its presence confused me.

“Wasn’t the kuso-kuso for after I anoint a council?” I asked Ai Ling. “To communicate across distance?”

She shrugged. “I thought it could ease sharing your memories, as well.”

Foreboding seeped into my stomach. Of course. Kuso-kuso caused a powerful trance state. One could dream several weeks’ worth of memories in a single hour of sleep. If I passed on my memories as dreams, the vassal rulers could absorb my life in rapid time . . . and decide whether or not I had earned their love.

“You really do think of everything,” I said, and Ai Ling held back the tent flap as I stooped inside.

We sat against the cushions, but before I could touch the food, Ai Ling dove to stop me.

“Wait,” she barked. I watched with confusion, then dawning horror as she rushed to seize tiny portions of every dish, then stuff them daintily into her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, held up a hand to wait . . . then spread a close-lipped smile. “All clear, darling.”

“Ai Ling,” I gasped. “You didn’t have to do that. What if—what if you had—”

“I wouldn’t have died,” she said calmly, sticking her finger in the wooden carafe of punch and licking it before I could stop her. Then, just managing to hide her relief, she poured me a glass. “At least . . . I don’t think so. We’ve been building immunity to poisons since the Children’s Palace. And we can’t trust the palace servants—what if a noble bribed them? Anyway, better I get sick than you. You’ve got work to do.”

“So do you,” I sputtered. “Please, Ai Ling. Don’t do that again.”

To my surprise, she huffed with offense. “So you’re allowed to risk your life for millions of people you barely know, but I can’t get a stomachache for my own sister?”

I opened my mouth, then shut it. She was right. Still . . . “What would I have told Dayo if you died?”