The Dragon's Promise, page 20
“Your Majesty,” Takkan protested. “I don’t think—”
“Yes,” the emperor interrupted. “That is a fine idea, Minister Hawar. Lord Takkan, I bid you ensure that my daughter does not leave the palace.”
I threw down the mirror. I’d seen enough. “I can’t believe Father would listen to Hawar. He’s a two-faced liar.” I blew a long sigh, deflating as my air left me. The same could be said of me, only Takkan didn’t know it.
“I don’t think your father trusts Hawar,” said Takkan, ever loyal. “But he does want you safe. That’s why he appointed me as your—”
“Bodyguard? You must be delighted now that your role is official.” I sank and dug my nails into the dirt. “Thanks for voting not to have me killed at least.”
“I have selfish reasons for wanting to keep you alive.”
That made me smile in spite of myself.
“I believe in your magic, Shiori. And in you,” he said. “Magic has been gone for so many centuries our people don’t remember the good it can do.”
“Like making moldy radishes new again?”
“Like this,” Takkan said, gesturing at the wildflowers that had bloomed where my hand touched the earth. Gen was right about me needing to practice my magic—I hadn’t even noticed.
“Flowers aren’t going to win over Kiata,” I said, thinking of how the palace servants avoided me now, as if my magic were a disease. “People are more afraid of me than of Bandur. That fear won’t change even if we defeat him.” The flowers wilted and vanished as I yanked back the threads of my magic. “Too many people have been hurt on account of me.” I swallowed hard. “Maybe I am a menace to Kiata.”
“The way you say that, I know there’s more on your mind.” Takkan leaned close, and his sleeves brushed mine. “Are you pushing me away because you think you’ll put me in danger?”
How did he know me so well?
I stared at the ground until he tipped my chin up. “There it is—that displeased grimace. You’re a skilled liar, Shiori, but your mouth gives you away.”
I was about to protest, but Takkan wasn’t finished: “You forget I spent an entire winter watching it. Observing every smile, every frown, every twist and tug for a window into your thoughts. Now that I can see your eyes, there isn’t much you can hide from me.
“You always worry about others being safe,” he went on. “Let me do the worrying for once. Will you tell me what’s been troubling you?”
Guilt gathered under my skin. Tonight was the last chance I’d have to tell him about my vision before our betrothal ceremony. I parted my lips, readying an admission, but my ribs tightened and my mouth went dry. The words wouldn’t come.
I’d already lost Raikama, and the possibility of losing Takkan hurt more than anything. Better he hate me than die. Better we break off the ceremony altogether.
I pinched my eyes shut. “Maybe you should go back to Iro. Maybe we should annul our betrothal.”
There. I’d said it.
I waited for Takkan to get angry, for his pride to overwhelm his senses, the way it had when I’d run out on him a year ago.
But he was quiet, and though his shoulders had gone rigid, he didn’t stir from my side. “If you’re going to say something like that,” he said at last, “I think I deserve a better explanation.”
I’d never been a coward, but I felt like one now. My back was to Takkan. I couldn’t even summon the courage to face him properly.
Didn’t you used to say fear is a game? Kiki had scolded me this morning. You win by playing, not by running away. Which is what you’d be doing if you don’t tell him.
She was right.
I stared down at my scarred hands. “I saw you die,” I admitted at last, in my smallest voice. “The Tears of Emuri’en showed Bandur killing you on Lapzur.”
Takkan turned me slowly by the shoulders. “That’s why you want to break the betrothal. That’s why you want me to leave.”
“Yes.” A pause. “Will you?”
“No,” Takkan said, as though he couldn’t believe I’d ask such a thing.
“You have to leave,” I said. “Bandur knows you’re my weakness. He’ll kill you!”
“No,” Takkan said again in a steely tone. He took a breath. “Do you know what it was like for me, staying behind when you left for Ai’long? Every day wondering whether I’d ever see you again. After an entire winter of not hearing your voice and not being able to see your face, I wanted to hear you laugh. I wanted to…”
“To what?”
Ever so tenderly, he brushed aside the hair at my temple and tucked the strands of silver behind my ears. His eyes were on mine the entire time, causing my cheeks to burn and my nerves to tingle. If he kissed me right now, I’d make us—no, the entire courtyard—fly, and then the ministers really would arrest me. But he let go and settled his hand on the earth, so close to mine that I could feel the electricity between our fingers.
“You aren’t a bird in a cage, Shiori. Neither am I. I’m coming with you.”
“I didn’t say you—”
“I appreciate that you’re afraid for me, because now I know to take every caution.” He narrowed the space between us, just an inch. “So…when do we leave?”
I gave him an arch look. “I still didn’t say you could come. You’d be too heavy for my brothers to carry, anyway.”
“You could turn me into a crane.”
“Absolutely not!” I gawked at him. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I do. You’ll have to tie me up if you want me to stay in Gindara. I’ll not stand by and watch you put yourself in danger, Shiori, not ever again. Whether I am your husband, your betrothed, or simply your friend.”
“You’re impossible,” I said, harrumphing. “Fine. If you want to come, I won’t stop you. But I’m not turning you into a crane.”
“Very well,” Takkan conceded. He’d won, and he was trying hard not to smile.
“You aren’t to be recklessly brave,” I went on. “If you get yourself killed, I’ll never forgive you. Do you understand?”
“Does the same rule apply to you?”
I huffed. “I’m naturally reckless.”
“And I’m naturally brave.”
“Takkan!”
“I promise,” he said, serious now. “But it’s rather selfish, don’t you think, to make me swear when you will not? I need you too, Shiori.”
I need you. A sea of heat came over me, scorching away any retort I might have mustered. Gods, he was going to be the doom of me. “All right, I promise.”
“Good,” said Takkan. He pulled from his cloak a small package that fit neatly in his palm. “There’s another reason I wanted to see you today.”
A gift? It was wrapped in peony-print cloth and tied with a gold cord I recognized from one of Gindara’s most famous shops. “You bought this for me?” I asked.
“No. I mean…no.” He cleared his throat as I stared at him curiously. Was he nervous? “The wrapping’s from Qinnia. I didn’t have any of my own.”
I was growing more mystified by the second. Qinnia had helped? “What is it?”
“Open it.”
Typically, I would have ripped through the cloth, but I lifted each fold as gingerly as if it were a butterfly’s wing. Inside was a simple comb, exquisitely carved and polished. I raised it to my nose, inhaling the scent of pine. “The wood’s from Iro.”
“How’d you know?”
I smiled coyly. “It smells like you.”
Usually, Takkan was good at hiding his feelings, but I caught the faint flush creeping up his neck, peeking out of his high collar. “Turn it over.”
Painted on the other side of the comb was a rabbit holding a red-stringed kite etched with flying cranes. The very kite Takkan and I had almost made together when we were children.
“In legend,” Takkan spoke, “Imurinya’s suitors brought her jewels and gold, riches from all across Lor’yan. But the hunter gave her a simple comb to put up her hair so he could see her eyes and light them with joy.”
My face warmed. I hadn’t thought of how that part of Imurinya’s story was like my own. For an entire winter, Takkan couldn’t see my face, and he’d tried valiantly to lift my spirits, even when he didn’t know who I was. Now, months later, to give me a comb, as the hunter had, was a promise. Of devotion. Of love.
I could hardly breathe as Takkan took the comb and tenderly set it in my hair.
“I know it’s been years,” he said, the tempo of his words accelerating a nervous notch, “and you never had any say when we were children, but I wanted to ask you now, before we—”
“Stop rambling, Takkan,” I blurted. “Are you asking if I’ll marry you?”
I’d rendered him speechless, at least for a second. He recovered admirably, and I wanted to kick myself for being an impulsive fool. But fool or not, I was still curious.
“I was going to ask more formally,” he said slowly, “if you’d…if you’d be betrothed to me.” He flashed a wry grin. “I suppose, in the end, the meaning is the same.”
It took all my control to keep my voice level and even. “In legend, the hunter gave Imurinya a comb to try and win her heart.” My hands were shaking as I spoke. “But mine’s already been won. So the answer is yes, Takkan.” I looked at him, trying to hold in the joy that was exploding inside me. Then I flew into his arms, all of me beaming with happiness. “Yes.”
He rose and hoisted me up with both arms, holding me close so our noses touched, and his breath tickled my lips.
“Are you finally going to kiss me?” I murmured cheekily.
Takkan touched my chin, and I half closed my eyes, ready for him to lean in and take my breath away.
Only he chuckled softly. “You’ll find out tomorrow,” he replied, with equal cheekiness. On my nose he burned a kiss into my skin, then set me down. “Incentive to actually show up this time.”
Incentive it was. I didn’t take Takkan for the sly and brazen sort, but he must have learned a lesson from me.
I liked it.
“I’ll be there.”
At last, it was the morning of my betrothal ceremony. I was already awake when my maids arrived to dress me, and I was in my brightest mood. Without complaint, I sat on a cushioned stool, patiently allowing them to swaddle me in a dozen layers of silk and brush my hair until it shone.
“Please wrap this in my hair,” I said, passing them the red thread I had taken from Raikama’s sewing chest. If she couldn’t be here today, I would still honor her.
Dressing me took all morning. I had many shortcomings, and though vanity had never been one of them, I had been self-conscious lately about the lock of white curling over my temples. My maids tried desperately to dye it black, even powdering it with charcoal and trying to paint it with lacquer, but nothing would take.
I tilted my head toward the mirror and stared at my hair. In an odd way, it suited me. “Let’s leave it,” I said finally.
“But, Your Highness—”
I have nothing to hide, I wanted to say. Everyone already knew I was a sorceress. But I wisely held my tongue and instead handed them Takkan’s comb. “Let it be.”
The maids bowed in silent acquiescence. In the end, they pinned the lock back and hid it behind my headdress. I smiled, wondering whether Takkan would notice his comb behind all the feathers.
My face was painted a ritual white, my lips and cheeks stained rouge, and my lashes coated with kohl. Strings of rubies, opals, and emeralds dangled from my hair, and disks of jade tinkled at my ears and wrists. Then came the final garments: the ceremonial coat and gown.
One year ago, I had worn these very robes—the same embroidered jacket, the same laborious skirt with a train that swept the ground behind my heels, the same gold-trimmed collar and cuffs. Yet the robes didn’t feel as heavy as they had before. Perhaps because I was stronger now. Or perhaps because I was actually eager for the ceremony.
“You look beautiful, Shiori’anma,” my maids gushed once I was dressed. “A true princess.”
A smile tugged at my lips, and as I gave a nod of thanks, Kiki flittered out of her hiding spot behind a vase.
They’re lying, she said, perching on my shoulder to survey my appearance. Your face is whiter than an eggshell, and you look more like a heap of laundry than a bride.
“So glad I can count on you to boost my confidence,” I replied.
I wouldn’t lie to you. Kiki sniffed. I’m just amazed you were able to walk in all that silk, let alone run off to the Sacred Lake last year. She leaned against my neck as if I were a tree. You’re not planning to do that again, are you?
“Of course not. I told Takkan the truth last night.”
Really? The disbelief on her paper face was almost human.
“It’s true,” I gloated. “You can ask him yourself.”
Hasho arrived to escort me to the temple. When he saw I was dressed and ready to leave, he tilted his head. “Miracles of Ashmiyu’en, are you going to be early?”
“You’re lucky this headdress obscures my eyes, brother. They are rolling at you.”
Hasho laughed. “Kiki in your sleeve this time?”
“In my collar today.” I bent my neck so the paper bird could return to her spot. As my headdress tinkled, Hasho gave Kiki a wink.
“Wait,” I said, reaching for the round pillow on my divan. Behind it, I’d stashed my satchel. “Do me a favor and watch over the pearl during the ceremony.”
Hasho quailed. “You can’t hide it under your bed?”
I’d tried. Tried stashing it in my closet, tucking it under my bed, even burying it under the chrysanthemum bushes outside my window. But I never felt safe unless it was close by, especially now that I knew Bandur wanted it.
“It isn’t a pea, Hasho. It’s a dragon pearl.”
“I’d be more comfortable watching over Kiki. Maybe you should give the pearl to Gen.”
“Can’t.” I pressed the satchel strap into my brother’s hands, trusting him to find a way to hide the bag under his own copious robes. “I sent him away.”
“Away?”
“For his own good.”
I wouldn’t say more. It was for Gen’s own good. After the council meeting I’d observed in the mirror, I had sought the young sorcerer out as soon as I could.
“I want you to investigate where the amulet is hidden,” I told him. “Benkai will be at the Holy Mountains. Help him while everyone else is at my betrothal ceremony.”
“Does this mean I’m not invited?”
“You’re a sorcerer, Gen. Hawar and his ministers wouldn’t dare hurt me, but the same isn’t true for you. Stay out of the palace until someone can keep an eye on you.”
Gen sniffed. “Who will keep an eye on you?”
“Don’t worry about me. Just find the amulet.” I gave him the mirror of truth as a bribe. “Use this.”
His blue eyes lit. “Do I get the pearl too?”
“No.”
A grumble huffed out of the boy’s lips, but to my relief, he obeyed.
When I arrived at the temple, I was sure that sending Gen away had been the right decision. Every minister and lord of the first rank had come. They were fanning themselves in unison to combat the heat. They reminded me of the dragons, thirsty for a spectacle. The worst was Chief Minister Hawar. Here he was, buzzing merrily with his other hornets, as if he hadn’t called for my death only yesterday.
When the procession delivered me to the red cushion opposite Takkan, I sagged into my spot as though I’d traveled for hours, not minutes.
He slipped me a smile before we assumed our customary positions. How silly we both looked. Takkan with silver and gold tassels dangling in front of his eyes, me with my burdensome headdress and veil. And our robes! We looked like caravans.
It was adorable—and strangely fitting that we were suffering through the ceremonial rigmarole together. I wished I could reach for his hand and tell him so.
“On this ninth day of the firefly month,” High Priest Voan began, “we assemble to bind together the fates of Shiori’anma, beloved princess of Kiata and only daughter of His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Hanriyu, and Lord Bushi’an Takkan, son of and heir to the prefecture of Iro.”
The palace priests and priestesses surrounded Takkan and me, carrying a long red ribbon and chanting prayers in Old Kiatan. I wanted to hear what they were saying, but it was impossible over the drumming.
Around and around, the priests and priestesses spun, whirling the ribbon over our heads. Nine times they would walk around us, the number of eternity. During our marriage ceremony, that same ribbon would be knotted to seal our promise to one another.
The spinning was starting to make me dizzy, so I focused my attention on the window behind Takkan. A cloud drifted over the sun, and darkness slithered into the temple, accompanied by a rhythmic rushing that made the roof shudder.
No one else seemed to hear it. Or feel it. But the sweat beading at my neck soon evaporated, replaced by the same icy chill I’d felt in the Holy Mountains.
Kiki? I reached out with my mind. My bird had decided at the last minute to sit with Hasho instead of me. Tell me you feel that. The cold.
Cold? she buzzed. My beak is getting soggy from all this humidity.
I wasn’t listening anymore. Darkness unfurled through the temple, black as ink and heavy as a shroud. Too soon it enveloped Father, the high priest, even Takkan.
I was next. My hands were clasped primly over my skirt, and as I looked down at my lap, a tide of shadow crept upon me, drowning the embroidered cranes and staining the beaded flowers black.
Congratulations, Shiori’anma.
