The color drained from my face. I stopped staring down and looked directly into Edan’s eyes. They were amber now, thick and bright as the sap of a tree. They bored into me. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“You’re not Keton Tamarin, and you’re certainly not old Kalsang Tamarin. His two oldest sons died in battle, but I heard he had a daughter who managed the shop quite well during the war…”
My stomach flipped.
Edan leaned closer, his eyes blue and cool yet piercing. I could have sworn they had been yellow only seconds ago. “Would I be correct in presuming you are Maia Tamarin?”
My lips parted, but Edan put a finger to them before I said a word.
“Think carefully before lying to an enchanter,” he warned me. “Sometimes it helps to look in a mirror.” He whisked one out and raised it to my face.
My hand jumped to my mouth. The reflection was me—but with my hair long again, and my brother, therealKeton, behind me.
“What magic is this?” I demanded.
“Simply a reflection of the truth,” he replied. “We enchanters see more than most. I knew you weren’t Keton Tamarin. You’re that girl you painted on your shawl.”
I pushed aside the mirror. “I was trying to paint Lady Sarnai.”
“Hmm,” he said, studying me. “The resemblance isn’t striking, but it’s there. Curious.”
“There is no resemblance,” I snapped. “I’m not a girl.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“You think I trust you?”
“You should.” Edan loosened his collar. It was high and looked uncomfortable, given the heat, but there was no perspiration on his forehead. I was wearing my lightest linen and already sweating. “Come, what keeps you from trusting me?”
I could think of a thousand reasons, so I had no idea what possessed me to blurt, “My…my brother said that sorcerers drink the blood of young girls.”
Edan simply burst out laughing. When he collected himself, he said, rather sternly, “The trial is down to four tailors. If you’re going to win, it’s time to show off a little.”
My brows furrowed, and I lowered my defenses. “You told me my shawl was too good.”
“For the first challenge,” Edan corrected. “I didn’t mean for you to become so underwhelming for the second one.”
“I wasn’t—” I groaned. There was no point in trying to explain to him how difficult it was to create a miracle in three days—without using magical scissors, anyway. “Why do you want me to win?” I asked instead.
He smiled mysteriously. “An enchanter never reveals his intentions. Let’s just say”—he pulled out my scissors from his sleeve—“thesewouldn’t belong to any ordinary seamstress.”
“How did you get those?” I stood on my toes, reaching to get the scissors back. “Those are mine!”
“So thereissome fire in you.” His smile widened. “Why should I give them back? Are they special to you?”
My pulse quickened. Those scissors worked miracles. I couldn’t allow the emperor’s Lord Enchanter to learn my other secret and get me kicked out of the trial.
“My father gave them to me,” I said, still reaching.
“Anything else special about them?”
“No,” I insisted.
He lowered the scissors an inch. “Sayplease.”
“Please,” I said grudgingly.
Edan held them out. I snatched the scissors back and thrust them into my pocket.
