11
Increaseth Her Sorrow
Princess Sayuri!
Princess Sayuri!
Sayuri!
The drums had beat so loud. It was a proper Jishouan beat, raucous and merry, a tune to herald her arrival in Kou, and the horns and flutes had boisterously kept up with the melody.
Their entrance into Rakushou had been a spirited cavalcade, one that was wildly received by the citizens.
Sayuri! Sayuri! Sayuri!
The chanting had started almost as soon as the music started, as soon as Kyouya, seated on his silver charger, had galloped ahead to lead her procession inside the opening gates of the Imperial City.
And it went on even as her palanquin advanced deeper into the heart of Kou's capital, the pitch of which only rose to a frenzied litany as her party marched on.
Sayuri's heart had never raced so much in her lifetime. To see men and women—Kou men and women she had never even seen nor met clamoring and invoking her name in feverous strings of princess, princess, princess, had petrified her.
Crown Princess Sayuri!
Beyond her veil, beyond the silks of her palanquin, the shadows of people clawed at her. If she looked straight, Rakushou loomed like a Jishouan city she half-remembered from a dream: the streets, the buildings, and even the way the people dressed were reminiscent of her country, and she'd thought in the space of one breath, my people, my people, they're chanting my name—and in the space of another nearly reached out for one of the hands outstretched toward her, before realizing with a spine-tingling chill that she was in fact in Kou, and she was on a procession towards the Imperial Palace, where she would meet the Emperor.
Outside, the shrieking had continued all the same.
Princess Sayuri, may you bring good fortune upon our empire, a woman intoned.
"I'm sorry."
The princess did not turn. Instead she watched two of her servants place Kouen's sword, cleaned and oiled, along with its newly waxed scabbard, on a decorative rack right in front of her.
"I—" She breathed, not wanting to sound emotional. She took another small breath, knowing that she had come west well with the knowledge of what kind of man Ren Koutoku was, and how many men—and women he had under his command.
She'd worn the veil because that was what the final days in the betrothal period called for. And she could not have presented herself to the entirety of the Kou court without it; perhaps she was informal with these traditions in the Triangle, but in Kou she knew she would have to follow rules.
Still, apparently the Emperor superseded tradition. It made her wonder; he did not seem to hold much regard for the tradition of marriage, but he himself had bothered with it as well, even if he filled entire palace wings with his concubines. He had shown her nothing but contempt and disregard the minute she had entered the palace, and he no doubt thought of her as nothing more than his eldest son's concubine that happened to come with a foreign title.
He was wholly mistaken.
Sayuri sighed, clasping her hands in her sleeves. She looked off to the side, knowing Koumei was still listening for her answer. "You of all people don't have to apologize for what His Imperial Majesty says."
Koutoku's words were his own.
Still, seeing Koumei here after the deluge of foreign sights and sounds was a kindness she was grateful for.
In fact—Sayuri turned, and she was only slightly saddened by the fact that he would not be able to see her face, and the small smile it had pulled itself into for him. Koumei was still standing on the other side of her new tea room in the Bamboo Palace.
He looked the same as ever. Tired eyes and messy red hair, the ever-present purple robes. He hadn't spoken much other than when he'd shown her the way to her living quarters, and his apology had come out of the blue in the silence that had stretched between them.
Her silver veil cast a gossamer pall on everything she saw, an infinite reminder of how she had bound herself to Kouen. But she could still see when Koumei blinked slowly, his own way of expressing his silent disbelief at her words.
Yet he didn't argue.
"If you'll excuse me then," He said quietly. Sayuri dipped her head, a tacit dismissal.
At the far end of her room, two handmaidens slid the main doors of her wing open. Koumei made to leave, and Sayuri accompanied him as he made his way out.
Davvid stood nearby, arms crossed but he kept an eye on her small courtyard outside. Her personal bodyguard squinted at something seemingly in the distance. "Someone's here."
That drew Sayuri's attention, though not by much. She'd only arrived hours earlier in Kou, and she already had a visitor—most likely a well-wisher, someone looking to curry favor with her, the future Crown Princess. Perhaps people thought she had Kouen's ear, which was indeed something any serious courtier probably would've wanted in Kou's political circuits.
Except she didn't. The last time she'd seen, much less spoken to, her intended was months ago.
She gave another sigh, resisting the urge to rub her temples. Her neck ached with the weight of her hair and her gold ornaments piled on top of her head, but she was resolved on hospitality. Especially since she was new to the country and had few allies, there would be no value in alienating anyone who wanted her favor.
Not yet, at least.
Someone called out Koumei's name. He turned to see what was down the steps, and Sayuri stood to the side, curious about this visitor. They'd said his name without his title, so it was either someone who knew him or outstripped him in station. But he was an Imperial Prince, so…
She padded softly towards Davvid. He was discreetly looking out the window—but he soon transferred his gaze to her, grinning toothily.
"Must be one of the princesses."
Sayuri agreed: "It would seem so."
Koumei turned back to face the two of them, and she tilted her head at him.
"Your sister?" She gently pressed.
He pursed his lips—but then he smiled, a touch ruefully. "Yes, the youngest. I have to call her away however. We have some business to take care of."
Idly, she wondered what business. The girl had sounded quite young, too young to be in politics anyway—so, family business, perhaps.
"You're tired, are you not? I shouldn't impose any longer."
And he bowed, which made her chuckle. "Thank you, Koumei. I'd invite you for tea and rice cakes, but my household hasn't properly settled in yet."
When he bowed and left, she stood by her door, moving to unpin her veil.
"Here, let me get that for you," Davvid said, from behind her. Sayuri thanked him quietly, rolling her shoulders as he drew the silver silk and her vision was properly restored.
Two of her girls went down the steps, and when they came back inside they returned with two large and steaming wooden cylinders, apparently a gift from whoever her visitor was. "It's food, my Lady."
"I see," Sayuri breathed, rubbing the back of her aching neck. Now that food had been mentioned—she realized she was rather hungry. "Fuu—would you help them set up in the inner courtyard?"
The blonde in question nodded readily.
"She's young, you know."
She glanced at Davvid again. He was folding her veil, but he was looking at her, and nudged his head toward the window. A tone of knowing—that tone that seemed to come with every magister—had filled his words.
Without thinking, she stepped into the doorway.
A girl was retreating into the bamboo. Her vibrant maroon Ren hair streamed behind her in two long locks, but they first gathered at the top of her head in two loops like rabbit ears; with each footfall her frilled yellow skirt fluttered.
Despite herself, a smile alighted on her lips. "If she's the youngest, then she must be Nobuhime's age. Kyouya told me."
Little princess, she thought. They would be sisters soon. Fleetingly, she wondered if the little princess had intended to sit her down for a meal and talk to her—and as if on cue, she and the girl locked eyes.
The girl seemed startled at her gaze, which nearly made Sayuri chuckle. Almost as if for her sake, the older woman turned away from her doors, letting her maids slide it shut behind her.
Fuu returned at that instant, telling her the food was ready in the inner courtyard. The three of them—she, Davvid, and Fuu—withdrew from the entrance to her wing, lockstep with each other.
It was a bold move on the girl's part, in retrospect. She appeared naïve and easily alarmed, with the wide-eyed look she'd sent Sayu when their eyes met. Unless she was a more skillful conversationalist than she seemed, which would've been a great feat for any courtier her age, Sayu sincerely doubted her appearance at her wing of the imperial complex today was her idea.
The little princess seemed young and innocent, and Sayuri sincerely hoped it was so. The idea that such a precious creature was Kouen's little sister, however, brought a wry curve to her lips.
"I wonder," the Jishouan princess said aloud to nobody in particular as they walked, "when father and the rest are arriving." She turned to Fuu, uttering with a smile, "It would be nice to have the family all together again. I haven't seen the little ones in ages."
Everything was ghostly in the world that her veil created. People seemed reluctant to seek her out, when she took her tea in the gardens and took strolls with her ambassador. They were shadows, flitting in and out of her sight, just hovering in the corners of her vision. Not once did these Kou people approach her, and every maid and guard not hers seemed uncomfortable having to speak to a woman whose face was entirely obscured from them.
Not even the little princess sought her out again. Kyouya had told her she was actually Kouen's half-sister, born to a courtesan—though with the whispers Fuu had acquainted her with, Kyouya's explanation seemed like a polite rewording of the girl's birth.
"It's a fine sword you have," Her friend was saying. Even Kyouya Korechika was a pale imitation of his usual self, and his dark hair seemed like nothing but stains against her veil.
She missed seeing his eyes—anyone's eyes. His were supposed to be a flinty shade of grey, like fresh steel that had just been folded into the shape of a sword. Since he wouldn't have been able to see the way she'd twisted her lips at his comment, she settled for tilting her head at him dubiously, clasping her hands in her sleeves.
"The one in my tea room?"
"Yes," With his fingers, he expertly maneuvered the long, blocky chopsticks that were the norm in Kou. He picked up a dumpling and ate it in one bite, asking in his low, stoic voice, "Where did you get it?"
Sayuri scowled. Normally she wouldn't have, but the concealment of her facial expressions was at least good for that. "A birthday gift. From Kouen."
He stilled. Then he raised a faintly curious brow, continuing in his deadpan manner, "Then it shouldn't be on display. The Crown Prince is a practical man, a soldier. He would expect you to use it."
"For what?" She rolled her eyes. "I have a magister as a bodyguard now, the idea seems redundant. And it's no small thing, to learn how to use a sword. I wouldn't have the time."
The princess looked at him. His expression remained unchanged, that impertinent brow of his still raised. With no emotion, he said: "Regardless, that is what he'd want."
Who cares what he wants, she wanted to say, but held her tongue, knowing she was being petty. She barely even knew Kouen; she felt he had no right to order her around.
And all this because he gifted her a sword for her birthday.
"I would've expected more jewels," She groused, "a comb, a set of hairsticks, something equally useless. But he sent me a sword."
Kyouya took an unfazed sip of his tea as she said this. "Something actually useful."
Sayuri glanced away at that.
It was true. At least her betrothed had had the sense to send her something not even half as frivolous as other suitors, but it still unsettled her. After years of being chased by men and women alike, being flattered and cajoled by nearly every person she met in court, she'd grown used to seeing past people and picking apart their ulterior motives. Somebody always wanted something, and they would do everything to get it.
Beyond this small matter, she realized she did not know her betrothed at all.
What did Kouen want from her?
If all he wanted was to solidify the alliance between Kou and Jishou, he would've went ahead with their bid for Mameha's hand, not risking the failure in asking for Sayuri's.
But he asked for me, not once, but twice—her trade connections were one thing. She had, after all, refused their post of trade ambassador.
And I exchanged that title to be his wife in the end.
"Give him credit," Kyouya said.
She glanced at him, the only other person besides Davvid that she could trust with her life in the entirety of the vast Kou Empire.
He was looking at her, and even with the physical barrier, he seemed to know straight where her eyes were. "Ren Kouen is a man worth understanding. Everything he does is for a reason."
Kouen made it in time for their wedding, of course.
In between warmongering and conquest and divvying up the spoils of war, her betrothed returned to the imperial capital, and Sayuri would've been cynical about it if she could stop how suddenly her heart raced when Fuu returned with the news of his carriage being spotted in the city.
Even the palace was in an uproar. When Kouen returned her family would be coming soon after, and there was a rush to ready everything in time. She couldn't actually speak to him, much less even see him—Kou wedding tradition forbade that, even if Jishouan tradition permitted it.
And so she waited, and the only day she actually got to see her intended again was her wedding day.
More than a hundred nobles and officials had gathered in the great hall that stretched impossibly long. The path before her was swathed in a blood red carpet that muffled each step she took, closer and closer until at last she would reach the altar.
They were shadows, all of them, splotches of grey painted against her veil if she didn't look too closely, an inconceivable blur if she just paid attention to the sound of her own beating heart.
I've done this before, she told herself. The chalice full of wine in her hands seemed to disagree, and every few steps or so she feared that she'd drop it because her fingers were damp with sweat.
You were Crown Princess once, her mind whispered, you will be Crown Princess again, if you go through with this.
The wine rippled. Sayuri bit her lip, and looked ahead.
Before she knew it, she was at the base of the altar, where the carpet climbed up the steps to a grand table. Out of the left corner of her eye, there was her family, father, mother, brothers, and sisters, looking at her with smiles and their snow-white robes.
She felt a small smile take over her face upon seeing them. Her wedding celebration would be the last time she'd see them in a long while, but at the sight of them her heart felt like it would burst, overcome by their silent support.
Now, to the right, Kouen stood.
She turned to him a bit slowly, mindful of the chalice. She had to look up to him, tall as he was, and he took one step closer—her breathing hitched as he lifted his hands to remove her veil.
Sayu could only nervously look into his face as he cast away the silver mantle that had taken over her vision in the last month.
And he'd remained unchanged; his hair, more scarlet than maroon, and those inscrutable, arrogant eyes staring down her face. She wondered what he saw.
They climbed the steps together, and when they reached the top, Koutoku awaited, long dark beard curled around his twisted grin. She offered her chalice to Kouen, who in turn offered her a long, red ribbon—and the Emperor was speaking again in his voice made of thunder, the sound reverberating in her ears like a dirge, and her fingers trembled as she struggled to loop her end of the ribbon over their shared cup of wine.
Kouen had spoken his vow first, before drinking from the cup: I will honor you, as I honor this Empire.
When she drank, the wine was sweet, honeyed.
And you, Sayuri, she had thought as the deep pool of violet swirled in her hands before she tipped her head back and drunk, will you really honor the Empire, as you honor him?
Surprisingly, she had stayed interested throughout the festivities, though she hadn't truly known what to expect. She sat between Kouen and the Emperor, apparently a place of tremendous honor, though she sent many longing looks to where the Jishouan party was seated.
Yet still. There was music. Dancing. Food. Alcohol. All the elements of a good wedding banquet—Sayuri herself had been riveted by the performances, which had included a certain amount of acrobatics. She'd felt her eyes go wide as saucers as she watched men and women dressed like phoenixes and dragons, flipping and standing on their hands, all to the blistering beat set by drums, gongs, and cymbals.
At that point, Kouen had turned to her with a brow raised.
"It's a unique performance," She said, a bit hotly. She suspected the reaction had something to do with the amount of alcohol she'd drunk. It was slightly unfair; Kouen had been slipping himself bits and pieces of food throughout the entire night, and she'd never seen him eat more than a couple of bites.
By contrast, she'd been tired and hungry when the banquet began, and she'd fumbled slightly with Kou's strange, oversized chopsticks when trying to get the food into her mouth. It had been an arduous task to appear elegant all the while, and although she thought she managed it, Kouen still looked like his normal, aloof self after four hours of wedding activities.
They'd spoken little the entire night. Sayuri didn't particularly feel inclined to change that either—so after saying her piece, she downed a little of Kou's version of rice wine, which was thick, milky white, and sticky sweet in her throat.
There were many more toasts, from some ingratiating noble or some old general; Sayuri thought she saw Davvid, wearing some proper robes this time, almost nod off at one point.
Suffice to say, she missed the parties in the Triangle. Boisterous Jishouan parties with everyone all over everyone. Wild Ariavatan parties where she could dance until her feet fell off. Long Caeran parties where she always ate more than she should. This was not bad in comparison—but she felt a pang of melancholy when she realized this would be her life from then on, reluctantly clinking cups with the Emperor and staying by Kouen's side.
When she felt her cheeks grow too hot—from a surplus of wine or tears, she didn't know—she quietly excused herself from the table.
This is your wedding night, she thought with some frustration, you're supposed to enjoy it.
The outside of the banquet hall was cool, and the wide courtyard hallway was windy. She approached the wooden balustrade, gazing at the gardens. She leaned herself against a nearby pillar, breathing heavily.
One breath at a time.
The quiet voice in the back of her head suspiciously sounded a lot like Kuja, the bastard. She pressed a hand to her mouth, grasping the balustrade tightly. She missed him and all the fond remnants of her past life.
This is your life now, she reminded herself. This is where you are.
She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes, as if trying to hold back the memories. One breath at a time, she had to remember, if that wasn't enough, one heartbeat.
There is always a choice, Kuja had said. And the blossoms will bloom again.
Sayuri leaned her side on the pillar again, gazing at the still garden shimmering blue under the Kou moon. A full night still lay ahead of her.
Had they noticed she was gone from the banquet yet?
It seemed unimportant, when she remembered Kyouya telling her that after the feast newlyweds were expected to retire to the bridal chamber. Therefore as long as she got there before Kouen did—none would be the wiser of her whereabouts, thinking she'd just gotten tired from the party early and decided to go straight to bed.
But that would be a conscious admission of her weakness.
So, after regaining a few breaths of fresh air, she smoothed her robes and readjusted her hair ornaments. On her way back in the banquet hall, Davvid followed with a grin for her; it took one shaky moment, but Sayuri grinned back.
The night went on. Gifts were presented, nobles were introduced. Sayu kept an eye out for the politicians, the men who seemed like she would encounter in the future. Then, there was an actual time when retiring to the bridal chamber wouldn't be seen as too early; people were already leaving, giving their most gracious apologies.
So with a quiet breath and nothing more, she turned to Kouen.
"Kouen," She said softly. She lifted a sleeve to her face to mask the interaction, and she saw him lean minutely toward her.
Sayuri kept her explanation simple—"I'll retire now, if you don't mind."
He nodded.
"I'll tell the Emperor."
Despite herself, her mouth moved to smile at this. "Thank you."
Her walk, however, was accompanied by several other…people?
Sayuri fought back a scream when the first of them popped out from behind a pillar, and Davvid had moved to separate her from the "threat."
"A mighty fearsome face you got there, pal," Her bodyguard grizzled out, his grin stretched wide on his face, head cocked back. "If I didn't know you were part of the Crown Prince's household, I would've melted it right off your skull."
It was a man. Or at least—partly a man. He wore the white robes of a personal attendant, but had writhing snakes for hair. Live, actual snakes, and his scowl did nothing to alleviate how murderous he looked.
"Princess," Davvid said. He looked back at her, smiling. "He's one of your husband's. A household member, and assimilated, by the looks of it."
"We were tasked with escorting the Princess," The man ground out, almost talking through his gritted teeth as he crossed his arms.
The magister was unmoved. He lifted a brow at the snake-man. "Tasked? I didn't hear anything. I think you're here to make fun of the Princess. It's her wedding night, after all."
"Davvid," Sayuri muttered, "now's not the time for a pissing contest."
He shrugged, barking a laugh. "I woulda' smoked him anyway, you know that."
The snake-man looked like he wanted to say something at that, but another shadow shifted from the hallway, joining him. They made quite the pair: a snake-man and a pig-man. The pig-man in particular seemed content to leer at her with his blackened grin, but when he bent forward and tried to get in her face, Davvid's hand—whose fingers crackled with glowing blue lightning—stopped him.
He straightened with a snort. An actual snort that wrinkled his human moustache and pig's nose.
"Still think you can smoke us?" The snake-man goaded at the magister, an equally cocksure, if not more feral, grin on his face. Sayuri rolled her eyes, but Davvid was at least too smart to be provoked like that, and instead shrugged carelessly.
"You must both be in Kouen's household," She said, eyes bouncing from one to the other. Her bodyguard had said something interesting—assimilated. Sayuri knew the bare bones of metal vessels and households, but she had no idea what it meant. Perhaps it meant a word for transformation; both these men were obviously, well, different. She'd have to ask Davvid later. "Is there anything you need?"
"None, Princess," The snake-man said. But he reluctantly turned sideways with his arm outstretched, opening up the hallway for her. "We were just supposed to escort you."
She glanced at Davvid skeptically, but otherwise nodded.
The walk was mostly peaceful, though she overheard the not-so-quiet talk between her bodyguards.
Pig-man: "Where're you from, huh?"
"Oh, the desert."
Snake-man, with doubt in his tone: "East of here?"
"Sure."
She could tell Davvid's evasiveness riled them, but he stayed joyfully oblivious. When they finally reached the bridal chambers, she turned to face the two new men.
"Thank you both," Sayuri said tentatively. She figured getting properly acquainted with these men would help, especially since she was presumably going to see more of them.
She looked at the snake-man, who appeared slightly startled when she set her gaze at him directly. "You're…?"
He blinked. Then he bowed, with his hands clasped together, in the Kou way. It made her uncomfortable—she hadn't exactly done anything to earn their respect, especially when they seemed to regard Kouen highly. "Li Seishuu."
She looked at the pig-man with the same question in her eyes. He was less surprised by the question, but he still bowed respectfully, "Gaku Kin, my Lady."
"Thank you both, then, Li Seishuu, Gaku Kin," She smiled at them, before disappearing into the doors of the bridal chamber with Davvid. Fuu was already inside with her clothes ready.
She was changed behind a screen, and soon after Fuu left.
Now she was in nothing but a sleeping robe and a very thin silk outer robe. Like her wedding clothes earlier, these were actually hers; they were new and made especially for this occasion, but at least the style and fabrics were familiar to her, which were a small comfort.
She'd also insisted on letting her hair down, which Fuu had made a face at, but obliged. Davvid came back from one of the connecting rooms, scratching his head. "I, uh…warded all the entry points, put a few spells here and there. I can step out, if you want."
She took his offer, knowing he was tired and didn't want to make it awkward for her.
He slid the doors shut behind him again, and then she was alone.
The chambers were huge, at least, though she wasn't terribly surprised. It hadn't taken her very long earlier to realize these were Kouen's personal chambers—and how telling it was, the way her new husband's room was decorated.
"Husband," She uttered to herself, as if trying to get used to the notion. "Husband."
The weight of a new gold band on her ring finger was further proof of that.
She wandered around the rooms, having nothing else to do. She didn't know how, but they seemed like a reflection of Kouen: everything was neat, meticulously organized. The smaller room to the left seemed like a study: one wall was entirely outfitted with nothing but bookcases, one side of the room was filled by a great desk, several maps and scrolls stacked neatly on top. His writing implements were carefully tucked away in cabinets, and on the far side of the room was a large game board with a grid painted on. Two low chairs on the opposite side of this board indicated that it was a game for two.
She carefully traced the marks he'd left on another table—a war table. Her eyes followed the coasts of the Eastern continent, memorizing which provinces Kou had conquered. One, two, three, she went on as she counted, noting the troop movements signified by specific pieces. There was a battalion stationed here, a division fanned out over another region there.
Then there were those marks that tread over the sea, connecting Jishou's docks to several points in the empire. These were supply lines to be run by Jishouan ships—it was just another stipulation of Kou's, for the alliance to come through.
Sayuri had talked little to her actual family that night, but Nobushiro had been subdued (as all her family were, she observed). Was it because of the impending war campaign? Kouen had returned to Rakushou for the wedding, but also because preparations for it would hold him down in the capital for a month or two at the very least.
Sayuri's stomach had turned at the very idea that Jishou would be actively aiding Kou's military expansion via lending their naval power in supply runs; even if her father had refused to put any of their men on the ground, conferring some military help with their fleet was still something many Jishouan politicians hadn't thought they'd be doing.
But here we are, she thought with a grimace. It was just one of the things to be sacrificed for Jishou and the Triangle's greater pursuits, she supposed.
She turned away from Kouen's study, heading back into the bedroom. It was more maroon and olive green than crimson; despite the grand furnishings, little else decorated the room. Obviously, it was used even less than the study. She imagined her husband had spent most of his life outdoors, in a rigid, utilitarian tent—the stark opposite of her, who'd spent many a comfortable night in palaces or villas or on a ship.
The few indulgences he had, it seemed, were all related to war. There was a set of armor on display in the corner of the room, beside another desk; an old sword was laid on a rack on top of a chest of drawers, and a few helmets and headdresses hung on the walls.
That was how Kouen found her: examining one of the headdresses. She looked toward the door when he came in, already shedding the outermost layer of his ceremonial wedding robes.
He seemed surprised to see her standing there, the first real emotion she'd seen on him all day, no matter how small it was. He pulled his arm from his coat, folding it neatly but leaving it on top of his dresser.
Sayuri licked her lips. What should she say now?
We don't even need to consummate tonight because everyone knows I was a widow.
Are you experienced?
What do you want from me, tonight?
Instead she kept quiet, wanting him to make the first move, if it came to their consummation. She was certain this would not be his first time—as it wasn't hers. He would have no problem initiating it. Sayuri had no real plans of being difficult; she was his wife now, and her body, at least on this first night, would be his.
But there's no reason for us to jump straight to it, if we both know how it works.
So she asked him a question, idly wondering if he'd play along. She rubbed her fingers, fiddling with the heavy ruby ring he'd given her.
"Can I ask you a question?"
He'd sat himself on the bed as he was removing his boots. She looked at him, brows furrowed. This would be one of the few real conversations they'd had. Last summer hadn't afforded them many opportunities, and she hadn't really sought him out as a conversational partner, especially when she'd been fixated on Kuja.
And there was no true alternative to this anyway—it was either talk or have sex with him. She did not relish either, but the former seemed more palatable at the moment.
Kouen didn't even look at her. "Ask."
"There aren't any lions in this region of the world," Sayuri started. She thumbed at her ring finger, where both her betrothal ring and her wedding ring now sat. They were the only pieces of jewelry she had on her now; she'd simply been too tired to carry the weight of the rest of the gold. "But your personal motif is a lion. Why?"
He looked at her then, boots off, but most of his clothes still intact. And he stood, taking a step toward her. She resisted the urge to back away, instead meeting his gaze head-on.
He raised one brow at her. He drawled: "Why do you want to know?"
"It just occurred to me. Am I wrong?"
He turned away from her. "You aren't."
He began to shed the rest of his robes. Sayuri huffed, moving to help him.
He glanced at her when she did so.
The princess tilted her head at him, a slight smirk taking shape on her face. "You forget I've done this before."
The whole marriage thing.
Kouen batted his eyes, and continued disrobing. "Tell me about it," He said; he did not ask, nor request, of course, but it was a command, layered with his monotone voice.
The princess smiled, baring her teeth. "Only if you answer my question."
At last he was only in his underrobe, which was a plain white and made of cotton. Sayuri silently hoped it was Ariavatan cotton, because it would glide smoother against both of their skins later.
"Done."
They stood before each other. Sayuri considered him, as he did her—this close, with only a robe to cover him, she could see the sinewed shape of his muscles underneath, the angles his collarbones cut.
When she raised her eyes to meet his, he had an overly patient look that said, likely in an unimpressed tone, are you done?
Sayuri raised her own brow at him, silently shooting back, are you done?
They were both well aware that they were only in their thin sleeping robes.
Kouen moved round the massive four-poster bed, and she sighed; she followed him, and while he sat and laid his head back on the headboard, she grabbed one pillow and hugged it to her chest as she lay on her stomach, observing him.
He took out his own hair ornaments, placing them on his sidetable and shaking out his hair. It amused her somewhat, to watch him do such a mundane thing.
Such a well-respected and illustrious man like the dread Crown Prince of Kou should have servants to do his every bidding, she internally mocked. Yet here the man was before her, married to her, stalling with her on their wedding night.
Kouen was probably only indulging her. "I had an uncle, the Emperor before my father. Hakutoku."
Sayu nodded. It made a lock of her silver hair get in her eye, so she lifted a hand to brush the offending strands back. Kouen watched her absently as she did this, but soon returned to his story.
"When he began conquering the western front, one of the first provinces to take notice was farther in the west; a province of cold mountains, valleys, and forests."
The thought made her curious. "How did they know?"
"Word of mouth," Kouen replied without hesitation. "We had few traders that narrowly passed all the way there, but when news arrived, their emir had immediately sent an emissary to Rakushou.
"His people were struggling, the past three years before were too cold for many of their products to be sold. They could survive, yes, but their existence was bleak and full of work. He asked Hakutoku for his help, saying if his soldiers could travel so hard and so long on their campaigns, then surely they could come so far west, and provide aid to his people. In return, they would become a province of the Kou Empire, and Hakutoku could use the land for outposts.
"It worked well in the end, helping us scout the provinces nearby. Once, the emir sent another emissary to express his gratitude, and I was there in the palace when he arrived.
"He presented many things to Hakutoku, among them one of the last remaining lions in Darrieh.
"I chose the lion as my motif because it symbolized a combination of diplomacy and an open acceptance of military might. The emir of Darrieh saw an opportunity to make the lives of his people better, and Hakutoku saw a tactical advantage. One works with the other to make things happen. One must never be without the other, if you hope to win."
He spoke like he always did, like this was another story for him, not the source of something so personal as his own motif. But apparently he was finished, and he looked at her blandly.
Sayuri dipped her head, avoiding his gaze. "Um, thank you for sharing that with me."
The nuances he'd picked from the story surprised her, especially when it came to his reasons for choosing the lion.
"You are welcome."
Now he was staring at her with slight expectation. She chuckled weakly, running a hand through her long hair. He'd asked her about her previous marriage—on the day that they got married.
The night would be memorable, if anything yet.
"I was fourteen when I first met him," She started. She lay down on her pillow, winding her arms around it as she dug up the memory from a decade ago and tried to lay it out as smooth as she was able, so she could tell Kouen. "He was as old as Shiro, so he was eighteen. It was summer when we met—Kuja was there too, because we always spent our summers together.
"Father was interested when Caera announced their intentions for a visit. He permitted their party to stay in Tohouku with us. Nobody had seen the Caeran royalty in years, but when the summer ended, I was suddenly betrothed, and expected to marry in three months."
She glanced at him, smirking. "Considering our unorthodox short betrothal and that this was my first marriage, you can imagine how clueless I was about what awaited me in Caera."
Kouen had been brief with his story, but it had sounded honest. She let slip one thing: "But I felt thrilled about it all the same, happy to be out of the court's eye. For the longest time, I wanted to travel freely and see the world, like my brothers always got to. I thought this was my one chance, because Caera had more ties than any country in the Triangle to the Western continent, which fascinated me."
Her eyes flit away to the side. "Obviously…it ended, one way or another. But I learned a lot of things. How to govern like a king would, for one. How to make connections, for another. When the marriage was over and I was in Jishou complaining about having nothing to do, the ministers were searching for their own trade ambassador to Caera. It was something I'd never studied before, having a million other things to worry about when I was Crown Princess.
"But I was the only person with political capital in Caera left. So of course they chose me."
Kouen was still listening. She smiled at this. "That's it."
"How did he die?"
"Forgive me, but I'll have to decline from answering." Sayuri shook her head, smirking. "Another time, maybe. Maybe when I have another question I'd want to ask."
Her husband sighed. Then he stood, putting out the candles one by one.
She did not follow him. Instead she just watched him do this other mundane action, but felt all the amusement drain out of her. So he intended to see this wedding night through after all—but what did she expect?
He was the Crown Prince. A discerning, calculating man. If they did not do this, the risk he'd taken to propose to her would've all been for naught. A consummation of the marriage was needed to make it legally binding, even if they couldn't prove it with her body. All they had were Kouen's words.
At the start of the night she had known she would give her body to him with no resistance, but their brief interlude of talking had drifted her mind away. It had been quiet, a break from the ruckus of everything else that transpired that day.
She bit back the disappointment she felt.
At last the final candle went out, and only the lanterns from outside their rooms illuminated the bed through the slats in the windows.
She sat up, dangling her legs over the side of the bed. It was still dim in the room, but she could make out the broad silhouette of Kouen coming up before her.
A warm hand brushed some hair out of her face, pushing it over her shoulder. The gentleness of the action made her smile a little; the hand stalled at its place on her jaw, just below her ear, and she leaned into the touch of her new husband.
Sayuri felt very tired. She thought Kouen was too, with all they had to put up with that day.
But he pulled her into his arms, and she let him.
The banquet was dying down, and all his sisters were tucked away and safe in their beds.
Or so he hoped—but Kouen was no brute. Nobushiro knew he wouldn't harm Sayuri.
He met Yuki out in the hallway. Shiro joked, "So, you can spare the time to go to Kou, but Kuja can't?"
Forever on cue, his brother grumbled: "He's a magister, Shiro. He has his own things to worry about. Last time I heard, he went even further west than we did."
The Crown Prince of Jishou raised both his brows. "Really?"
"Yeah," His brother replied. "They've tasked him with something. I think they're making him find someone this time."
"Whoever it is, Kuja'll find him."
They talked some more, before returning to where they'd been before their mother and father called them away to tuck the girls in.
Koumei was still where they'd left him, reading some manuscripts in the moonlight by the balustrade. Yuki quickly joined him, taking up the cup of tea he'd left.
"Seems it's getting rather late, Koumei," Shiro commented as he leaned on a pillar a few feet away from the two. "Are you sure you aren't turning in soon?"
"No," their friend said with a shake of his head. "I can't sleep anyway."
Nobushiro understood the feeling. After all, it was his baby sister's wedding night. Who knew what she was getting up to—though he imagined it was not a lot. She'd never been too fond of Kouen.
"Koumei," He said again.
"Yes?"
He hoped the redhead was listening carefully. "You know, my sister, she's a fine workhorse."
The rustling of parchment stopped. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Koumei looking at him sharply.
Good.
The older prince just looked at the sky, admiring the clarity of the stars in Kou. He wouldn't be forgetting this place any time soon. "She will do what you ask of her, and she will do it dependably."
Shiro sighed. "Just be careful she's the only horse your brother keeps in his stable. She's already been married once. I'm afraid her good opinion once lost is lost forever."
Notes:
So, now that I'm well-rested, here are some notes on this chapter.
(1) The story about lions in Kou is somewhat based on how lions came to be in Chinese culture; lions used to roam Central Asia (where Darrieh is, in my mind), and foreign diplomats brought some lions to China once as gifts to the emperor. Also, there is a real difference between Chinese, Japanese, and even Korean chopsticks; I just wanted to highlight the similarities, as well as the differences between Kou and Jishouan culture.
(2) My family is part Chinese, and there are these really funny (and old, we're talking thousands of years old) bridal chamber traditions. I would've made Sayuri and Kouen be forced to play uncomfortably sexual games with each other by their friends and family, but alas this is Kou and nobody can take a piss without being deadass serious.
(3) There's a lot more people being vague, but since we're moving closer to the heart of the plot, all shall be revealed soon. Sooner, that is. I'll be very glad to listen to your speculations, theories, if you've any; regarding what went down in Sayu's old marriage, for example.
Married life is complicated, but now we have our newlyweds. Sigh. Thanks to everyone that's read so far, to all those who followed/faved, please leave your comments! This quick update is for all the people who've regularly reviewed and have had to put up with my rambling responses, it's always nice hearing back from y'all.
See y'all in the next chapter!