To her credit, Baozhai apologized for this incident later, during the feast. And what a feast it was! Do you remember, Shizuka, how every single plate was either gold or porcelain or both? Whole ducks, exotic fish, hearty soups, bowls of rice larger than some toddlers! There was so much food!
And the smell of it all. Gods, there were so many smells, it made me dizzy. Imagine twenty, thirty different courtiers screaming at you to pay attention to them. You, of course, have no interest in hearing them speak, and I had no interest in eating the food.
But it was nice to look at, and I felt bad for Baozhai.
She kept pushing more portions toward me. “Lady Alsharyya,” she said. I was going to have to correct her eventually, but … “Is the duck not to your liking? We don’t have kumaq, but I think there might be horsemeat on the table somewhere.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “Not hungry.”
“Not hungry?” said Kenshiro. “You’ve been riding all day!”
“This must be why you are so skinny,” Baozhai said. “Is she always like this?”
My brother shook his head. “When she was a child, she’d eat anything we put in front of her,” he said.
As a young girl looks for her parents when she is asked to answer a question, so I looked to you.
“Barsalyya-sur is recovering from a long illness,” you said. “Her appetite has sadly withered.”
Wrinkles appeared near Kenshiro’s eyes; I do not think he believed you.
“Lady Alsharyya!” Baozhai exclaimed, one hand rising to her mouth. “I did not know! Forgive me. If you like, I have healers—”
“They will not be necessary,” you said. “Lady Baozhai, you must tell me about your dress.…”
So we made our way through the dinner. For the most part, conversation was pleasant, and you liked the food enough to have second servings. You were served from separate bowls, separate utensils. If you wanted duck, there was one just for you; if you wanted soup, there was a whole pot bearing the Imperial Seal. You did not come close to finishing all of it. I later discovered that whatever you did not eat was burned.
Can you imagine, Shizuka? People could’ve eaten that. But the Xianese ascribe a certain level of holiness to their royal family. Hokkarans do, too; if their legends are to be believed, your veins hold heavenly blood. Yet I have never seen Hokkarans throw away food simply because you touched it.
I wondered why Baozhai was extending this courtesy to you. If the custom applied to the Xianese royal family, then it should apply only to Baozhai, Kenshiro, and myself. You were not a relative by blood or marriage. Baozhai, who would’ve been sovereign ruler of a nation if not for your grandfather, should have hated you.
But she did not. And here she was, lavishing you with courtesy and respect.
It gladdened my heart, Shizuka. The two of you struck it off from the first instant you met. Listening to you talk of various dressmakers and novels and perfumes—for the first time in my memory, you were enjoying yourself with someone besides me.
So, yes, it was strange that Baozhai went through all that trouble in your behalf—but it was a pleasant surprise.
But after the servants began gathering our trays and we said our good nights, Kenshiro asked us to come out onto the veranda.
“I’ve some plum wine,” he said, “fit for the Little Empress herself!”
And, yes, he smiled—yes, there was a twinkle in his eyes—but I could smell the suspicion on him like smoke.
“It’s been some time since I had plum wine,” you said.
We were going to have to tell him sooner or later.
We trudged outside. I trudged. You glided, as always. I do not think it is possible for you to move without elegance.
“What if he hates me?” I mouthed as we walked.
You could not touch me in public, but you softened your features toward me in the way lovers do. “He won’t,” you whispered.
The three of us stood outside on the veranda overlooking the gardens. “Gardens” seems too small a word. It was more … it was as if all of Hokkaro existed in microcosm here. Large trees grew in miniature; mountains were replicated with thick slabs of rock. Dense shrubbery mimicked the forests around Fujino. Someone even built a miniature Jade Palace.
The weather was balmy that night. Lightning bugs flickered in and out of existence. Night clouds veiled Grandmother Sky’s starry gown. Everything was dark and lovely and fragrant.
Why was Xian-Lai not the Imperial Seat? I liked it far better than Fujino.
Maybe it was all the rain.
“You’ve done well for yourself, Kenshiro-lao,” you said. You leaned on the railing. With a wave, you dismissed the guards he’d brought with us. “Lord of Xian-Lai. And your wife certainly knows how to welcome guests.”
“She’s excited to meet you, O-Shizuka-shon,” he said. “I was nervous, given the tension between Xian-Lai and Fujino, but I had the feeling you two would get along. The hope, really. Perhaps it helped that I talked you up a bit.”
“It did,” you said. “I’ve never had such a pleasant reception in all the Empire.”
Kenshiro offered a small smile. “I will tell her you said this,” he said. “She will hold the words forever dear to her.”
I watched the two of you talk. Soon. Soon. Until I had to speak, I’d watch the lightning bugs. We never had them on the steppes; they were one of the few things about Oshiro I missed.
“Shefali-lun, O-Shizuka-shon said you were sick. Is that true?”
A steadying breath. A nod.
He broke eye contact for a moment. “And our mother is not speaking to you.”
Another nod. I did not want to do this. Couldn’t I let you do it? No, Kenshiro was my brother, my last remaining family. Besides my father. Though I am not certain if he considers me family at all.
So I held open my hand, and you gave me your short sword.
I drew the blade across my fingers.
I’m not sure which was more unnerving to the two of you: that I did this with such ease, or that I did not flinch at all from the pain.
In the weak light, it was hard to see my blood’s true color; I stepped toward one of the hanging lanterns.
Kenshiro’s brown skin went pale. “She … Shefali-lun, your blood is…”
I could not bear to look at him. I stood there with my palm raised, blood dripping down my wrist.
“You should know,” you said, “that your sister slew a demon with me. If it weren’t for her, I would not be standing here today. But…”
You swallowed.
“She has paid the price for her unwavering devotion,” you said, and the words simmered in your throat.
My knees shook and my empty stomach threatened to turn inside out. No doubt Kenshiro looked on me with disgust now. Any second, he’d call the guards back and have me escorted out of the palace.
But when I opened my eyes, he was rushing toward me with arms outstretched. He scooped me up into an embrace tight enough to knock the wind from me. I froze, unsure of how to react. Surely he did not mean to do this? Surely he meant to strike me?
No. He held me as his chest shook with weeping, as his tears landed on my shoulders. “My baby sister,” he said. “Eight gods, you’re the bravest girl I know.”