Mrs. Dainan sniffed and straightened her collar before opening the door. Seconds later, her back curved into a deep bow, her arms fluttering and her voice rising to an obsequious pitch I didn’t know she was capable of.
“Ah, welcome. Welcome, sir.”
An imperial sentinel had entered the inn.
My breath caught in my throat, and I quickly grabbed Mrs. Dainan’s broom, pretending to sweep while I moved closer to eavesdrop.
Historically, sentinels were knights trained to battle demons, aiding the gods in driving them back into the Holy Mountains of Fortitude. Now that such threats had supposedly been put to rest, sentinels protected the imperial family and kept the peace wherever they were stationed. Some trained all their lives for the honor; it was one of the few ways a poor man could change his fortune.
This sentinel was young, but even then he was likely earning at least ten gold makans a year. Enough to have a few silvers in his pockets.
What are you doing, Shiori?I scolded myself.Fantasizing about robbing a sentinel?
“Lina!” Mrs. Dainan was yelling. “Where are your manners? Fetch our new guest here some of your delicious soup. And a cup of tea.”
I hurried to obey. When I returned, the sentinel was seated in the corner by the window, far from the other guests.
He kept his helmet and armor on, but I would have recognized him as a sentinel even if he’d worn rags like mine. He had the look: the stiff posture, the proud shoulders chiseled from years of rigorous training, the solemn eyes absent of mischief or cunning. I’d met a thousand just like him.
“Are you coming from Iro or Tazheni Fortress?” Mrs. Dainan asked, warming her tone to one that I had never heard before. She made a show of folding the hot towel she set on his table. “Many soldiers have been gathering there. Good for business, but not so good for Kiata, I’d gather.”
“I’m passing by.”
The sentinel’s response was curt, a sign he wanted to be left alone. But Mrs. Dainan chattered on. “Making your way home, then?”
“The emperor has been searching for his children,” allowed the sentinel. He wasn’t much of a conversationalist. “I was asked to join the inquiry.”
The hairs on the back of my neck bristled.
“Ah yes.” Mrs. Dainan pretended to sympathize. “The poor princes and princess. Well, we haven’t seen them. No news here!”
This the sentinel already seemed to know. He removed a battered-looking book from his knapsack, opening it to deflect further questions from Mrs. Dainan. Then he tilted his chin at his cup of tea, already empty.
“Lina!” Mrs. Dainan snapped before turning to attend to other customers. “More tea.”
I poured quickly, wondering what had led an imperial sentinel to this far island in search of my brothers and me. Was there a way to tell him who I truly was? Could I trusthim?
He barely noticed me, his gaze trained on his book as he reached for the soup. While he drank, I peered over his shoulder. He wasn’t reading; he was flipping through old drawings in a sketchbook. Some had little notes by them, but I couldn’tsee—
“It isn’t polite to read over people’s shoulders,” he said, startling me.
He set down his soup and looked up. At the sight of the bowl on my head, curiosity flickered across his face. I was used to the reaction, and braced myself for a slew of questions I couldn’t answer.
They didn’t come.
“You must be the cook,” he said instead, gesturing at his bowl. “Mrs. Dainan wasn’t exaggerating about your soup. It’s exceptional. The flavor, the fish, even the radishes. Reminds me of home.”
I nodded, but I didn’t really care what he thought of my soup. I wanted to ask him how my father was, how long he’d been looking for me. Whether my stepmother was still at hisside.
Most of all, I wanted to scream, “I’m Princess Shiori!” I wanted to shake him by the shoulders until he recognized me. I wanted to order him to take me home.
But I did none of those things. I simply bowed my head and retreated to the kitchen.
After all, who would believe that the Princess of Kiata was a serving girl in the middle of Tianyi Village with a wooden bowl stuck to her head, so poor that she could not afford a comb for her tangled hair or straw slippers to walk out in the fields?
No one would. Least of all this sentinel.
You could ask him for money,a desperate voice inside me suggested.A silver coin is nothing to him. It’d be the world to you.
