“Ask for the Grandmother’s guidance,” I added, because I have always gone along with your plans.
Uemura studied us each for a few moments. “O-Shizuka-shon,” he said, “I shall allow this, but you must give me your word that you will not try to escape.”
You touched your fingers to your lips eight times. “I swear it by the Heavenly Family,” you said, “I will not try to escape, and neither will Barsalai-sun. We simply wish to speak to the priest.”
“Very well,” said Uemura. “As a favor to you, O-Shizuka-shon.”
He approached me with a hunter’s caution, the key to my manacles held up in one hand so that I knew what he was doing. I admit I flinched at his touch anyway. For some reason he thought it would be best to undo the left manacle first; some small part of me feared he was going to slip a knife between my ribs.
But he wouldn’t dare do such a thing. Not with you standing right next to him.
You offered a warm smile. “Thank you,” you said.
We stepped into the shrine as I massaged my aching wrists. It was Xianese style and not Hokkaran. The whole room was crusted with gold and jade; portraits of your uncle hung on the walls. Ahead of us, on the shrine itself, were eight golden statues of the Heavenly Family. A single priest was tending cones of incense that hung in each of the four corners of the room.
The scent, to me, was overpowering, and I covered my nose and mouth with my hand. But you wasted no time. We did not have much, I suppose.
“Priest,” you said, “do you know who I am?”
At this, the priest turned to greet you. He gave a reserved bow, his hands extended in front of him, Xianese style. “I do not,” he said, “but all are welcome in the Family’s home. Have you come for guidance?”
“No,” you said. “My name is O-Shizuka, called by your people the Lady of Ink. I am the heir to the Dragon Throne. I did not come here for guidance. I came here for a marriage.”
“What?” I had to have misheard you. There was no way you just said what I heard you say.
“Shefali,” you said, “would you have any objection to marrying me?”
“No,” I said, “of course not, but…”
The priest’s brows were so far up his head, they may’ve been hiding beneath his cap. “Two women?”
You nodded. “Is that a problem? Before my people adopted yours, such marriages were common in Xianese society.”
The priest tugged at his whiskers. While he mulled it over, I stared at you. Marriage. You decided somewhere along that short walk that we absolutely had to get married right this instant. We’d never discussed this before, since it seemed so impossible. May as well discuss fire raining down from the sky. Who in Hokkaro would marry two women?
But we were not in Hokkaro.
“No such marriages have been performed for a hundred years,” the priest said. “Your ancestors have tried very hard to eradicate the practice. As I recall, they said it was akin to people marrying their horses.”
You cleared your throat. “My ancestors,” you said, “were gods-forsaken fools, I see. But still I must request this. It is not against the Heavenly Mandates—and think what a message it would send to the other Hokkaran nobles. Think what a statement it would make for your people.”
My heart felt as if it were going to jump out of my throat and land on the floor. As the priest hemmed and hawed and tugged at his whiskers, the impossible seemed within my grasp. Within our grasp.
“And what of your heirs?” he said. “Tensions are already high, Lady, concerning succession. What will happen when you produce no heirs?”
The question offended you, but your answer came so quick I knew you’d considered the possibility he’d ask it. “You presume much. If Shefali and I can find no suitable father for a child, then I will name my youngest niece or nephew.”
I was too gobsmacked by the situation to bring it up at the time, Shizuka, but you should know sanvaartains have a method for creating fatherless children. We call them urjilinbaal. I do not blame you for being ignorant of it; sanvaartains keep their secrets close to their chests. They figured it out not long after the war—with so many dead it was imperative we find some way to grow our population. Urjilinbaal allowed infertile women and sanvaartains themselves to give birth if they so chose.
We had options. Have options, if this is a thing you’ve considered. But at the time we were still young, and you were still trying to convince the priest to marry us at all.
“Please,” you said. “I do not normally make requests; I command. But in this case, I must ask you, sincerely, from my heart—do this. Marry us. I do not care what I must do to compensate you. When I become Empress, you can move to Fujino, if you like, and lead the priesthood there. If you have family, I will have them looked after; they will never want. If you have daughters, I’d be happy to have one join my handmaidens. Whatever you like, Priest. But I must have this marriage.”
As you spoke, your voice cracked. You took my hand.
“I promise you, you will never marry any two people more in love than we are,” you said.
The priest stepped closer. He walked around the two of us, looking us over from head to toe. “Are you not the woman who beheaded Commander Nozawa?” he said to me. “They say you tore his head off with your bare hands.”
I pressed my lips together. “Yes,” I said. “I did.”
“She was protecting me,” you said. “You shouldn’t hold it against her—”
“I don’t,” said the priest. “That pig waited outside my daughter’s bedroom each night, staring at her. I will marry the two of you. Allow me a moment to get the wine ready.”
He wandered off into one of the other rooms. In that private moment, when we were betrothed, I took you in my arms. Your cheeks went pink beneath your bandages.
“Shizuka,” I said. “Shizuka, we’re getting married.”
When you kissed me, your lips spoke a hundred vows. I forgot that Uemura was standing outside. I forgot about your uncle, about Nozawa. Even my missing eye didn’t bother me then.
Somehow, within minutes, I was going to marry you.
“My love,” you said, tracing my brows with your fingertips, “I only wish we could have had a proper ceremony. But I want to keep you safe, and my uncle cannot harm a member of the Imperial Family. One day, I promise, we will have a real ceremony. You can ride in on your horse and try to break a sheep’s neck like your cousin did and—”
I laughed so hard, tears came to my eyes, which had the unfortunate side effect of making my wound sting. Somehow you’d remembered the most important Qorin tradition: asking the groom to break a cooked sheep’s neck in two, and hiding a piece of iron in the neck so it could not be done. How you remembered this, I do not know. We saw only one wedding together on the steppes. Had you been researching this?
I cupped your cheek. “Shizuka,” I said, “my Shizuka. So long as we are married, I don’t care how it happens.”
We kissed again, and you touched my nose.