“I say to you,” you said, turning toward the others. “I say to all of you that Barsalyya Shefali Alshar has done more to serve the people of Hokkaro than the Son of Heaven himself. Never have I met anyone so skilled yet so humble; never have I met anyone more worthy of my trust. Barsalyya Shefali personally rid Shiseiki of demons and bandits both.”
As you spoke, you gesticulated, your sleeves swirling about you like wings. You paced the reception hall, catching everyone’s eyes at least once, burning in voice and passion.
“Uncle, if you are so holy, if you are so righteous, why did you not notice Nozawa was a demon?” you said. Now you came to stand in front of him. Now you stared him down with your slashing eyes. “From the moment I saw him, at the age of ten, I told you there was something the matter with him. What did you do? You sent him on valuable missions. You elevated him, held him as a glowing jewel in your breast. He wore the gold thread. You encouraged him to duel for my hand today. How dare you? That jewel you wore so proudly was a serpent’s scale, his venom running through your blood. You, who cannot produce an heir, would’ve condemned your brother’s daughter to an infernal marriage. And you seek to have Barsalyya Shefali executed for succeeding where you failed?”
I felt as if the heavens themselves struck me on the spot. As if I were watching the birth of a star.
“I will not stand for it,” you said. “I, O-Shizuka, daughter of O-Itsuki and O-Shizuru, descendant of Minami Shiori, trueborn blood of Yamai and the eight hundred Emperors, forbid you from killing her. If you insist, then you must kill me as well. That is the only solution. I will not let you kill her.”
Silence. A heavy sort of silence, not the kind one finds in an empty room. This is the sort of silence you find only when large groups come together and all wait for something to happen. Silence, thickened with anticipation.
At last, the Emperor spoke.
“Were you not our brother’s daughter,” he said, “know that you would’ve been executed for your willful words. How dare you, child? How dare you insult us so brazenly? How dare you say to the Son of Heaven that he cannot do something? We say the prisoner is to be executed, and we further declare that the prisoner will be drowned, for your insolence.”
And you met his eyes the whole time he spoke, unbowed and unswayed.
“I dare because it is in my blood,” you said, “and because I know something you do not. You cannot kill Barsalyya Shefali, for you cannot have any member of the Imperial Family executed, unless they have conspired against the throne—and she has not. That is the first of our laws, and we hold it before us now.”
Thrumming. Buzzing in the air, whispering waves, hooves against ground. I half stood just to get a better look at the Emperor’s glowering face. I thought steam was going to shoot from his ears, he was so red.
“Shizuka,” he said, “you are an arrogant brat, but you have never been an idiot. We have not adopted the prisoner. How could she be a member of our family?”
And at this, you grinned. “Because, Uncle,” you said, “Barsalyya Shefali is our wife.”
Gasps rang out through the reception hall. Cries of “What?” and “How?” I figured it was a good time to stand, considering we’d already flouted protocol and etiquette.
In full view of the court, you took my hand. “We married her not an hour ago, in the Bronze Palace’s shrine, in accordance to the right of their province,” you said. “You may ask the priest. We are married.”
I spared a glance for my father, who was so white, you might mistake him for paper, his eyes bulging out of his head. Kenshiro and Baozhai wore broad grins.
The rest of the crowd had not yet made up their minds.
But your uncle? He was furious. A ripe strawberry could not hope to be redder. He shambled to his feet and pointed at you. “What is the meaning of this?” he roared. “Women do not marry other women, and the Imperial Family does not marry horsewives.”
“We could make the meaning plainer only by public indecency, Uncle,” you said. “And she is not a horsewife; she is, if anything, a peacock’s wife.”
Someone in the court dared to laugh. A brave individual, it has to be said. I fought off a smile myself. Peacock Princess, indeed.
On the one hand, the relief of not having to hide anymore washed over me like the first rain of the season. On the other, we were playing a dangerous game. Technically, we had not yet consummated the marriage. If your uncle realized, he could declare the marriage void, and kill me anyway.
But would he, in front of so many people?
Would he, when no one was shouting in outrage?
Would he do such a thing to you, knowing you’d one day wrest power from him, one day you’d have absolute command?
Two hundred eyes bearing down on me. I couldn’t see half of them, but I felt the weight of their judgments. A one-eyed Qorin girl, one who tore off a man’s head three days ago. That’s what they saw. By that measure, I was not worthy of you.
“O-Shizuka-shon,” said Uemura. “Is it possible you’ve been corrupted? The prisoner is a blackblood, we don’t know what powers they might have.”
How dare he? After he’d subjected me to his doctors, after he’d let me go, knowing what I was? Tones of panic in his voice; regret and shame in his scent. Perhaps he was trying to make up for letting us speak to the priest.
I grew tired of being silent.
“My name is Barsalyya,” I said. “I killed a tiger for that name. I have killed three demons since. How many have you killed?”
He clenched his jaw, and suddenly his young face was fraught with wrinkles. “Uemura-zun, that is preposterous, and you know it,” you added. “You ask if we are corrupted? Very well.”
With that, you tore off your bandages and held them high as you could. The sight of your wounded face dropped me into cold water. The cut was so deep, Shizuka, and you held your hair up so your mangled ear was visible.
You dropped the bandages and touched your fingertips to your face. They came away coated in dark red. Then you leaned over. Using your blood as ink, you wrote on the floor in your blessed hand.
“Is that plain enough for you to read?” Shizuka said. It wasn’t plain enough for me; I was grateful you continued. “For anyone who cannot see it: I am human as I have ever been, sound of mind and body. I’ve known I was going to marry Barsalyya Shefali since we were children.”
“Yuichi!” cried the Emperor.
My father snapped to attention, bowing before hurrying to the Emperor’s side. I thought I saw him trembling.
“Yuichi, tell your mongrel daughter what she has done is illegal.”
My father has always had a fondness for Hokkaran law. He has scrolls and scrolls of old court procedures in his personal library. And, though I can blame him for being absent, for never caring for me the way he cared for my brother, I can never say he was unfair. Other lords often wrote to him for advice.
Legal knowledge—as well as a great deal of brownnosing—was what endeared my father to the Emperor. And now he was being called on to use it against me.