The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology)



The music of drums, fifes, and flutes swelled, and a scarlet ball vaulted into the sky. Along the edge of the polo field, the flag bearers waved their flags frantically. Men shouted from the benches. Horses whinnied, their hooves pounding across the vast field. The competition between the Chinese Imperial Team and the Tibetan Team raged on.

I sat next to the Emperor on a raised platform, a black veil draped over my face. I wore a lavishly embroidered red gown suitable for an empress, and even though I could not see myself, I knew I looked like one.

I felt like one too, in fact. After all, today would be most marvelous and memorable. All I had to do was watch the game, entertain the Emperor, and then after the game, I would go to the banquet hall with the Emperor as he accepted the vassals’ vow of allegiance. They would bow to me too, and I would greet them, gracefully and magnificently. And then, as the Noble Lady had said, I would become the rising moon of the palace. Everyone would know I was in favor, and then the Emperor would love me, keeping me by his side, and soon I would wear the crown of Most Adored, and Jewel would don the hat of Most Abhorred. And Mother… I would be able to take care of her. I would ask the Emperor to give our house back and also to bestow many riches on her…

I tried not to look at Jewel, who was sitting on a bench near the platform. She was veiled as well, but I could feel the sting of her glare. Around her, arranged in the law of feng shui and the order of seniority, were the Noble Lady, who smiled at me kindly, the Pure Lady, holding her cat, Lady Obedience, and Lady Virtue, who gazed into the mirror held by her maid. I was relieved she was more interested in her looks than in me, but on the other side of the platform, some high-ranking ministers were eyeing me appraisingly, and behind them, the Emperor’s vassals—the chieftains of various tribes on the northern border—shouted something in my direction. I wondered if they were talking about me too.

“Wine.” The Emperor knocked on the table.

“Yes, the One Above All.” Holding my wide sleeves back with my left hand, I poured the wine from the jug. He was a different person today, content and warm, like a wise and benevolent ruler. It seemed each time I met him, he looked different.

“Your thoughts about the game?”

I hesitated. I had not paid much attention to the game. The veil obscured my view, and every time the horses sped across the field, a cloud of yellow dust blanketed me. But I should not tell him that.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I said.

He nodded, looking happy with my answer. “I shall give you a reward if you guess who will win.”

That was an unexpected surprise. I lifted the veil to get a clear view of the field. “Let me see—”

A deafening roar shook the field. Taizi, in his usual loincloth, sped up to pass three horses and struck the ball. He missed the net. Another rider in a black tunic with a red belt, Prince Yo, intercepted the ball. He struck. The ball dipped into the net; the whole field roared.

The Emperor shot to his feet. “Well done!”

I applauded too, reluctantly, and glanced at the Noble Lady. She looked worried, gazing at her son at the other side of the field, who swung his mallet idly. But the Pure Lady smiled wickedly and stroked her cat.

“So, have you picked a winner?” The Emperor stroked his whiskers.

“I daresay, the One Above All, the Tibetans will be routed.”

“Are you willing to bet on that, Talent?” the Duke said, leaning forward from his bench.

I did not like him interrupting us; I did not like him at all. He was the one who had interrogated me and nearly had me beaten for intruding into the Altar House. I would like to have glared at his long face and told him to go away. But he was the Duke, and I had to show respect. “Why, I thought our Grand Duke should devote himself to a virtue.” Rather than the vice of gambling.

“Right now, my virtue is to assure proper attention is devoted to the game.” He snorted. “A maiden like you probably doesn’t even care for the scores.”

“This is the third chukka,” the Emperor’s uncle said near us. I was not certain if he was trying to help me or not. “We won the first two. One more, and we will win.”

“I’m asking the maiden,” the Duke said curtly. The Uncle’s face turned red; he looked insulted. It was disrespectful for the Duke to speak to him in such a manner.

“What bet do you have in mind, Wuji?” the Emperor asked, using the Duke’s given name.

“If your Talent wins, the One Above All will grant her any reward, and I will give up my house and present it to her. If she loses”—the Duke smirked—“she’ll lose her title of Talent.”

Who cared about his den filled with aristocratic filth? I would rather keep my newly earned title and stay out of it. I lowered my head to rearrange the goblets on the table.

“It looks like your Talent is rather frightened.” The Duke’s tone was condescending and laced with contempt.

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