12
Spring Pursuits
She woke first.
She'd become an early riser ever since she arrived in Kou, but it still came as a surprise when she opened her eyes and still found him sleeping beside her. Kouen was a soldier and a busy man. She'd half-expected to wake up alone.
But there he was, lying still on the mattress. Less than a foot away from her. Only soft rays from the slats in the windows before the bed illuminated his face in the pillows, and Sayuri blinked the vision of a dozing Kouen into clarity.
His chest rose and fell with every breath he took. Eyes shut, hair disheveled, face relaxed in sleep, the sight of him undeniably mesmerized her. Her vision could not stray from how different he looked, how at peace. Kouen always seemed distant and aloof, but here he was, appearing vulnerable, for once.
Last night had been a blur. She had no intention of trying to recollect all that had happened. The experience had not been unpleasant—and perhaps this was all she could bring herself to say about it—but it was not something she would seek out again, of that she had no doubt.
Dust motes danced above his maroon hair. The softness of his expression caught her: for this small moment his usually stern face was not pulled into a stoic mask, and even his mouth was slightly ajar, breathing softly.
Eventually she had to force herself up, her eyes blinking blearily.
The room was dim, though the morning light still seeped in through the closed windows. She must've gotten up earlier than usual—Fuu had already adapted their routines to the habit, but since there was no evidence of her having been in the room yet, Sayuri decided to ready the room herself.
So she stretched languidly, straightening her spine. It elicited a yawn, which she smothered with a hand; her long hair hung around her in tangles, and she combed an idle hand through it as she got out of the bed.
Her footfalls were quiet. She stood over the large bed for a moment, eyes trying to avoid where Kouen lay, but she couldn't; her hands moved, and before she knew it, she'd replaced the blanket, draping the rest of it on his side of the bed.
Then she got to work, padding away barefoot in her husband's suites. There wasn't much to do, as she figured out by slowly walking around Kouen's chambers; all there was was to figure out by what mechanism Kouen's windows closed. Eventually she sorted that out, and she slid the window coverings aside to reveal a fine wooden lattice that collectively offered a view of the courtyard leading to Kouen's wing.
Birds were singing quietly. A wind whispered through the grate, and Sayu sighed. She leaned her head on the window, eyes staring at nothing in particular as she listened to the sound of stillness, of the palace still mostly asleep.
"Sayuri."
Hearing her name, she lifted her head, eyes wandering to the bed.
Kouen was awake. He was sitting bedside, and something in the look in his eyes beckoned her.
Her feet carried her to him unwillingly, and when she sat beside him, she felt a lump in her throat.
"Good morning," She greeted, analyzing his expression. It felt fruitless, because he was inscrutable as ever, even as he was rubbing his eyes open. Softly, she continued, "did I wake you?"
"No."
He reached into his bedside table, where he pulled a drawer and retrieved a clothed bundle inside. He laid it on her lap. "This is yours."
She looked at him curiously, but did as he commanded.
The scene felt slightly familiar. Once, nearly a year ago, a similar scene had played out in Caera—silently, she undid the cloth bow, and underneath hid a maroon lacquered box, whose rectangular lid was decorated with spiraling gold dragons.
She slid the lid off, and the inside was a silk brocade kerchief cushioning a delicate silver hairpin, the end of which was decorated with a small azalea tree, its leaves made of jade. Above this, a silver crane perched, its two eyes glinting with emeralds.
Seeing it made Sayuri's head ache. After a year of wearing her hair up, she'd honestly planned to go back to letting it down. She hadn't had a wig made; as it turned out, it was rather hard to look for a suitable silver-haired wig for her. Yet it would be no large task to wear this hairpin…sometimes.
But still. It was elegant and beautiful, and its design reminded her of her own hair ornaments. It made her look at Kouen questioningly.
"Did you select this?"
Kouen shook his head as he stood. "Koumei did. I told you to expect a second present for our wedding; the traditional time to give it is the morning after the consummation."
She almost admired the casual way he could speak about last night, as if his own marriage and its validity didn't faze him. Perhaps she shouldn't take it as a surprise: if he were searching for someone to keep his bed warm, it was a wife's lot to keep her lord husband company, but it was also a concubine's. Kouen was Crown Prince; he could have countless concubines, just like his father.
That was the way things worked in the imperial palace at Kou, she'd been told by Kyouya—there were wives and their lineages and substantial dowries for political maneuvering, and then there were concubines, women of lesser birth and wealth, for pleasure. The marriages were almost a formality, a convenience for two business parties.
Somehow, the thought relieved her.
She could not imagine having to be in his chambers every night, waiting on him like she was his servant. Her father had welcomed this marriage for a reason; she couldn't fulfill her purpose here if she were constantly worrying about pleasing Kouen.
Another day I thought would never come, she thought with a wry twist to her lips, when I would be grateful for the existence of mistresses.
"Thank you, then. And I'll be sure to thank Koumei as well." She held back a grin as she said those words: in any case, she wasn't surprised that Koumei had picked it. It was a very thoughtful gift, paying attention to how it would flatter her appearance. She couldn't see Kouen willingly spending the time to give her something like a hair ornament.
It reminded her again of Kyouya's words: the Crown Prince is a practical man.
True enough.
She observed her husband, eyes following him as he took his sword, still in its scabbard, in one hand and looked at her. "I'll be in my study."
It was an open-ended statement—it was not a silent command, but he was giving her leave to return to her own new chambers, if she wished. He was giving her that much, which she at least appreciated.
Then he disappeared. Having nothing else to do, she trailed after him, and she watched as he seated himself before his great desk, unfurling a large map of the world.
"Do you ever go anywhere without your sword?" Sayuri found herself asking as she leaned against the doorway. "Without all your metal vessels?"
"I take my sword everywhere," He glanced at her briefly, before returning his stare to the map in his hands. "If I have to, I leave my cape only where I know it will be safe."
She knit her brows. His black cape, with the gold lion pauldron, was currently sitting on his bedside table. "You must trust me, then."
"This room is secured by my household members, and while you stealing my metal vessels right now without me knowing is next to impossible, there would still be no benefit in that for you."
The matter-of-fact tone he used amused her. She'd been about to reply, when he added, after a moment's consideration: "Unless you're less intelligent than I thought you were."
Kouen had a funny, roundabout way for complimenting people. She rolled her eyes.
Her gaze caught the massive game board on one end of the room. She approached the thing curiously, commenting lightheartedly all the while, "You'd be surprised by what I could do with a metal vessel. Or—what the Magisterium could do. They're objects worth studying."
Such objects of great power, Kuja had said one time.
"But rest assured," She tossed a glance over her shoulder at Kouen. Sayuri was surprised to find him gazing at her like a hawk, but she tried her best not to show it. "You can trust me. On this matter, at least. I know metal vessels are meant to be personal to their bearers. That, and stealing things right from under your nose wouldn't be a very good way to foster a harmonious marriage."
The princess then threw her attention back to the game board, examining the grid carved and painted on the oval table, envisioning how a game could possibly be played. Yet she could still feel Kouen's gaze burning holes into her back.
Sayu irritably blew a strand of her hair out of her face, trying hard to focus on the game board in front of her.
Stop staring.
She jumped when she felt her husband's presence right beside her. But when she turned to face him, she steeled her face in silent, stoic defiance, as if mocking his own taciturn manner: what have I said this time?
"Tell me," Kouen began, and the glimmer of curiosity in his eyes set her on edge a bit, "about the Magisterium."
"I've already told you about it."
"Then tell me about the Triangle," He said, nonplussed by her rejection.
Her husband was certainly a most curious man; Sayuri wanted to turn away from him and march straight out of his chambers. Except she didn't know where her chambers were—by this time her household should've finished moving to Kouen's wing, but that didn't mean Sayu knew where her knew rooms were.
She looked at him. Tilted her head, gestured at the board to their side. "Play this game with me, and I'll tell you."
Kouen lifted a brow. It seemed to taunt her. "You will be occupied with playing the game."
"You underestimate me," She muttered. She sat down on the low armchair before one side of the oval board, folding her legs underneath her. "Shall we, then?"
Kouen sighed. But he followed, pulling a drawer open from another side of the table as he did so. He began to take out two bowls filled with small round stones; there were pieces in white and black, and Kouen handed her the bowl filled with the white stones.
She held one up to examine it, pinched between two of her fingers. The stone was weighty and smooth in her fingers, and she only glimpsed Kouen's impassive face staring at her in the background.
…And of course the game—go, as her husband called it—was complicated, but Kouen took his time to explain it to her, patient as he went. It surprised her (many things Kouen did surprised her) but she listened to him earnestly when she realized this, and when they began their first game of go in seriousness, she scrupulously laid out another tale for him in return.
"The Triangle," She said, scanning the board, running her fingers over the smooth stone in her hand over and over again as she thought, "is no ordinary place, as you may know.
"The magisters have looked long and hard into the phenomena, and every time they come back with the same answers; there is something about the rukh, they say, that flows over the oceans surrounding our lands and seeps into our earth. The rukh from the rest of the world gathers in the Triangle, rukh from all manner of life…
"And the results aren't very consistent. In Ariavat, the rukh brews never-ending sandstorms. In Caera they make some volcanoes superactive. In Jishou they make the flowers bloom unnatural colors, and many other things.
"People from the Triangle are more in tune with the rukh, or so the magisters say," Sayu finished, assessing her position in the game. She honestly couldn't tell if she was losing or winning—but judging by the easiness in Kouen's manner, she was probably not doing very well. "It's what maybe makes the ability to control our rukh manifest more often in our people."
"Why you produce more magicians," Kouen hedged, "in simpler terms."
She nodded. She looked askance at him. "Satisfied?"
He did not answer. He seemed to be mulling over her response, but eventually, he dipped his head in acceptance.
"Thank you."
The honest response shocked her. She gazed into her husband's face, but he was occupied with taking all some of her pieces off the game board.
Sayuri blinked, and looked away for a second.
She smiled, despite herself.
"You're welcome."
At that moment, they both heard the doors to his chambers slide open.
"Princess?"
It was Fuu, probably bringing the morning tea. The thought made Sayu's stomach rumble, and the fact that Kouen looked at her questioningly when it did made the princess blush.
"In here, Fuu."
Her handmaid appeared at the doorway of the study, and though she tensed at the sight of Kouen, she dutifully nodded at both of them. She looked uncertainly at the tray in her hands.
There was no breakfast in sight—Sayuri had planned to eat with her family, later in the morning, because she knew they would be rising late—but there was at least her customary Jishouan teapot and matching cups.
"The desk," Kouen supplied tonelessly, when Fuu puzzled over where was appropriate to set down the tray.
"Care for some tea?" Sayu quipped as she stood and approached Fuu near the desk. She glanced back at Kouen, who nodded. The princess turned to smile a little at Fuu. "Thank you, Fuu."
"Did I come late? You've woken earlier than usual, Princess." She asked fretfully, pulling at her robes. Sayuri shook her head as she poured the two cups of tea. "W-Well then…we've finished moving all your things to your new chambers."
"Tell everyone to have the day off," Sayuri said idly, enjoying the warmth of the cup now in her hands. "That includes you, Fuu. We should all have time to enjoy Rakushou, now that we've all fully settled in. I think I'll manage with just Davvid and the few Kou maids today."
The words made a wide grin spread itself on Fuu's face. She bowed. "Thank you, Princess."
Sayuri returned the grin. "I'll see you tomorrow then."
They were alone again when Sayu brought Kouen his tea, and her husband nodded his thanks.
Then he said: "Have you always risen this early?"
The thought frayed her concentration a bit as she focused on how to gain the upper hand in their game. "Ah, there was a time when…in Caera, I started this habit."
Realizing what she'd just said, Sayuri pursed her lips. She backtracked—"It happens, whenever I travel to somewhere foreign."
Not a whole lie, she sighed silently, at the very least.
Kouen looked at her peculiarly, but when she said nothing more, he wordlessly returned to their game. No doubt he was filing away that information for later, like he'd filed away the information she told him about her first marriage last night: to what purpose he was doing these things, she didn't know, and she could only guess at Kouen's motives.
When their game ended—with Kouen winning, of course—he stood up, and went back to his desk. Sayuri decided this was the right time to prepare for breakfast with her family, so she stood as well.
Kouen's voice caught her just as she was leaving his study: "Seishuu can bring you to your new chambers. Don't take too long. I will need him here in a while."
Sayuri silently thanked the fact that she was already out of his view when he said it. She blushed, having completely forgotten about that.
Her family left for Jishou with little pomp and pageantry. Her coronation followed soon after, though it was much the same, with only the most important court officials attending it. All this happened very quickly, with Sayu only seeing Kouen intermittently, often in his wing of the palace, because her chambers were right across his. Only a garden separated them, and sometimes Sayuri caught sight of her husband in the mornings and afternoons.
He always seemed busy. His monstrous household members trailed after him dutifully, and he had few words to spare her when their paths crossed. Sometimes he would only nod, and Sayuri returned the gesture wordlessly, understanding that he was off again to see his war council, or to mull over reports with Koumei.
But now was also when her duties began in earnest: most of her days were spent with Kyouya. With her place in Kou solidified by her coronation as Crown Princess, she could begin maneuvering as a member of the court. She could informally take up the duties of trade ambassador, which was a role originally filled out by one of her acquaintances in Jishou, but now the job was better left to Sayuri.
Today they were looking at porcelain and the state of the soil in numerous Kou provinces, refining trade routes that intertwined and ended at the eastern Kou coast so the delicate china could be shipped to the Triangle. Nobles were always looking to spend their money on something pretty and expensive—and porcelain was a fascination with the upper class in Jishou, where clay pottery was widely used.
It was something that they would have to take over to the ministerial board of trade: the buying and selling of luxury goods by Jishouan traders required their approval. Kyouya had mockingly said that she could simply ask her husband, and he could sway the ministers for her—but that was the easy way out, and she wanted to prove herself capable of befriending some of the Kou aristocracy.
Besides: it was ironic, but she was acutely aware of how important Kouen's time was. She would rather not have to approach him about this, when she could do it herself.
"Ministers," She said as the servants swung open the doors before her. It revealed a gaggle of old men, poring over documents of some sort. They all stood at her entrance, and Sayuri graciously returned the gesture with a curtsy. "Good afternoon."
"I've come with the Crown Princess to discuss the transport of your pottery from Shanxi," Kyouya continued from beside her, "she will be a regular fixture in our meetings now, if you all are willing."
"I've brokered treaties with Jishou's minister of trade before, so I hope I prove knowledgeable enough to not interrupt negotiations," Sayu dipped her head, "but I know better than most that I am still young and have much to learn."
Her introduction was met with silence. She raised her eyes to find all of the old men, their mouths drawn tight, eyes steely. They looked at Kyouya. One of them spoke up, though his eyes were kindly, and he was a short, squat old man with a graying beard: "I know you've spoken of this before, Korechika, but this…"
He looked at Sayu. His eyes seemed to be conveying some kind of apology. "We mean no offense, Princess, but this is just not done in Kou."
Ah, Sayuri thought. Resistance.
And here she was, thinking it was going to be easy, setting up some kind of agreement about taxes and levies and quotas: "Is it because I'm female?"
The bluntness in her question seemed to surprise all the old men. Sayuri shook her head—she'd run into this kind of gendered resistance before. Only, she'd gotten through it back in the rather traditional political circles of Jishou. "I've experience. Please allow me this afternoon to make my case, ministers, and if I am nothing but a nuisance, expect no more of me in future meetings. I only want what's best for both the Empire and Jishou."
The stoic, utilitarian method of persuasion seemed popular in Kou, so she'd gone for that. It was hard to argue with logic in any case, and while none of the geezers relaxed, they reluctantly nodded their assent.
So she and Kyouya took their places in the room, sitting together and unfurling the scrolls they'd brought. Porcelain was something hard for Kou to produce, and it wasn't something particularly easy to ship either; Shanxi and a few surrounding provinces produced a special type of pink porcelain that proved near impossible to find elsewhere in Kou, and the ministers seemed reluctant to trade with other countries, because they wanted to keep the method of its manufacture a secret.
She and Kyouya won in the end, however. The provinces where the porcelain was made weren't very rich, and a flow of foreign gold was something that could help improve their hardy communities, especially with the fact that Kou seemed to perpetually be at war and continually sapped their villages of its workforce.
"We still need to keep its trade at a minimum, with a quota," The same rotund old man from before—a minister Choyian—said. "We do not want people to switch livelihoods because the porcelain will be more profitable. These provinces still need their farmers."
"We will confer with the trading companies, then," Sayu nodded. And then they moved on to other things. By the end of it, the old men were still unnervingly quiet, but they at least respectfully bid her goodbye, as they gathered up their books and papers and left the chambers as a group.
All but for one:
"Crown Princess," Choyian said. He had a warm expression on his grey-bearded face, which Sayuri was wary of. He'd nearly denied her attendance to this meeting with that same warmth in his eyes. "It is an honor to finally meet you in person."
She surreptitiously glanced at Kyouya, who nodded. So Choyian could be trusted—to an extent—though that didn't really alleviate any of Sayu's wariness. "Minister Choyian. I hope I didn't prove to be much of a distraction earlier, in your meeting."
"On the contrary," He said genially, which utterly confused Sayuri, "you were quite capable, Princess! Forgive my surprise, we just don't run into a woman so well-versed with our ways in court very often."
Of course not, she thought. They're all busy jockeying for power as their husband's wives, or as concubines in the imperial harem.
There were only a select few paths open to a woman, Sayuri had eventually learned in her life. And it was only through the intervention of fate that she'd even been able to be something other than someone's pretty little wife.
"Thank you, minister," She smiled, baring her teeth. "You flatter me, but I've learned a great deal from this meeting alone. I look forward to the next meeting, so I may perhaps learn even more from you all."
Choyian returned the expression with a patronizing nod.
She was in the middle of reading something in the gardens when Kougyoku found her.
The Crown Princess, Ka Koubun had said, likes to read in the gardens. This is your chance!
In truth, she'd taken her sweet time before seeking her out again. There'd been something—something about her that gave Kougyoku pause, that made her nervous.
Even her family seemed intimidating: she had not intended to take too much time speaking to the royal family of Jishou during the wedding banquet, but she'd somehow ended up entangled between the Crown Prince, his only brother, and both the Second and Third Princesses.
Nobushiro, Nobuyuki, Nobuhime and…
Their foreign names were long, hard to pronounce, and harder still to remember. But they reminded her of her own siblings, all of which were older and more important than her—like them, the Jie siblings looked like mirror images of each other from afar, except the closer she drew to the brood, the more she could tell them apart with their little differences.
It did not help that they were attractive with their silver hair and green eyes. The princesses had seemed kind enough, but they'd spoken in hushed tones to their older brothers, conferring about something Kougyoku couldn't figure. Both the princes were equally handsome, but the Crown Prince, who was tall, and with his short, cropped hair that he liked to tease with his long fingers—his malachite green eyes that were both distant and welcoming at once—he'd held her attention the entire night.
The memory of the exotic royalty of Jishou was burned into her mind, and it was this memory that was playing over and over again when she found herself walking up to the Crown Princess' corner of the imperial gardens.
Kouen's wife was sitting, a cup of tea in her hand, a scroll in another. Her long silver hair was let down that day, though she wore several silver hair clips encrusted with sapphires.
The Crown Princess' bodyguard—the one they called Davvid, was standing at the edge of the pavilion, and he regarded Kougyoku with a large, scary grin.
"Your Highness," He half-bowed to Kougyoku. He turned back to Sayuri, "Princess, there's someone here to see you."
The informality of his announcement made Kougyoku knit her brows, though her attention was soon occupied by the Crown Princess setting down her scroll and her cup, turning to face the girl.
"P-P-P-Princess S-S-Sayuri," Kougyoku stuttered as she curtsied, and she silently berated herself for her nervousness. She hoped the Crown Princess hadn't noticed; she kept her head down.
"Princess Kougyoku," Strangely enough, Sayuri's tone was warm: "Please, join me, would you like a cup of tea?"
She raised her head. The Crown Princess was smiling, a hand extended at the space on the carpet before her. Kougyoku found herself nodding too much, barely stifling her shock at how easy it was to gain an audience with the older woman.
"I—I would be delighted, P-Princess!" She practically squeaked. The bodyguard was looking at her with some amusement, though he stood aside to let her into the pavilion.
She sat, trying to calm the beating of her heart. Sayuri moved to pour her a cup of tea, and Kougyoku watched the older woman's hands materialize from within her billowing sleeves, and they effortlessly reached for the teapot.
Soon enough, a steaming cup was in Kougyoku's hands, and she took a moment to admire the simplicity of the clay cup and its green glaze.
The Crown Princess said: "I must apologize, Princess Kougyoku, because the tea I drink is from my homeland, the Triangle. It is a brew from one of our countries—Ariavat, and made with honey, milk, and spices. Perhaps you might not find it to your taste. I can have Fuu bring another pot, if you want."
"O-Oh, it's no trouble," Kougyoku tried to wave off the older woman's concern, "I'm sure I'll like it."
She gamely took a drink to prove her point.
"A-Ah! Too hot—!"
"Here, let me—ah!"
Kougyoku sat back in horror. There was a brown stain on the older woman's robes, and even worse, a glistening patch of skin on the Crown Princess' collar bones was steadily turning an angry red.
"Princess—p-please, f-f-f-f-forgive m-me! I didn't mean to!" Kougyoku sat back on her haunches, putting her head on the carpet before her.
As expected, as expected this would happen, she thought with a frustrated quiver to her clenched fists, only to me, on the very day I decide to seek the Crown Princess.
"Princess Kougyoku."
"Y-Yes…?"
"Please, raise your head."
She lifted it, slowly, not wanting to see Sayuri's angry face.
But—the Crown Princess was only looking at her with a brow lifted. There was a smile in place as well, and she seemed to be smiling at her, at Kougyoku.
"Well," The woman said amusedly, "that was certainly a first. Are you alright?"
There was still a burning to her tongue—and before she could reply, a blonde handmaid approached Kougyoku with a cup. She accepted it without a clue, and in it was some water bobbing with ice. She looked at Sayuri again.
"It's ice water, for your tongue," She said. "I hope it doesn't taste too strange either. My bodyguard, Davvid, is a magician. He made the ice. I've drunk it myself many times, so I promise it won't poison you…"
"T-Thank you," Kougyoku bit out haltingly, completely thrown off guard by the kindness in the woman's voice. Sayuri looked puzzled at her reply, but she just gestured for her to drink the cup.
"R-Right!"
She regarded the cup in her hand with some wonder. It unexpectedly reminded her of Judar, and summers in the palace. Whenever it was hot she could always find Judar producing his peculiar ice shards, and they'd done all kinds of things with the habit. Iced peaches, iced tea, iced water…
So she took a sip of the water. It had that taste she always associated with magic—that shimmering frost that disappeared as soon as she tasted a glimpse of it. Kougyoku found that she preferred Davvid's ice to Judar's ice; if that even made any sense. Davvid's was lighter. Drinking the water felt like drinking ordinary water, because it was less saturated with magoi.
The cool water brought relief to her burnt tongue. In a few moments, she took another sip of her teacup, and though she slightly recoiled at the sensation in her mouth, she also found herself agreeing to the flavorful milk and honey concoction the Crown Princess had brought her.
The aroma alone overwhelmed her senses. When she sipped, the drink was both smoky sweet and savory, but she could still taste the bitter tea underneath, and the milk added an extra dimension of creaminess to it all.
"This is great," She blurted.
The woman across her just nodded.
"I'm told Kou doesn't have much of a spice trade outside their own local ingredients," Sayuri uttered, taking a sip of her own tea. "There are more flavors out there, especially from Ariavat. We use a strong black tea for this blend, but we mix it with something we call cinnamon, among other things."
Kougyoku listened raptly.
"Would you like another cup, Princess?"
The girl nodded eagerly. Then she paused, remembering something she was supposed to say at the start of their audience, but had accidentally slipped her mind since: "Please, p-p-please call me Kougyoku, i-i-if you wish, Y-Your…"
"Call me Sayuri, then."
The Crown Princess tilted her head at the petrified girl, a playful smile on her lips. "I would rather you not stand on ceremony with me. I am but a newcomer to Kou, and I've yet to earn anyone's respect, much less yours, Princess."
The familiarity in her tone reddened Kougyoku's cheeks. And the idea that she wasn't worthy of her respect—it was preposterous. Kouen had chosen her and married her, and that alone should've been enough to earn anyone in Rakushou's esteem. Her older brother, the dread Crown Prince of Kou and General Commander of the Western Subjugation Army, did not just choose to associate himself with any woman, after all.
"But—you're Crown Princess…" The girl breathed, "…I cannot—it isn't—it isn't done."
"Funny," A wrinkle formed above Sayuri's brow. Kougyoku gulped at the sight, wondering if she'd gone too far with her comments. "You're the second person to say that to me. And your older brother Koumei was just as unwilling to relinquish these formalities, in the beginning."
At the mention of Koumei, Kougyoku bit her lip. The Crown Princess noted this, but she continued all the same: "Eventually, I wore him down. But evidently things work differently here in Kou. If you are truly uncomfortable with it, then—"
She wants to be familiar with me, Kougyoku's mind screamed, what am I doing!?
"It's…it's fine," The girl hurried to promise. When Sayuri looked at her curiously, she glumly glanced at the steaming teacup in her hands, her apprehension suddenly bearing down on her with all the weight of her worries. It occurred to her that she'd succeeded in nothing but confusing and embarrassing herself in front of the Crown Princess this entire time.
"I'm sorry. I just….it—it came as a—a…surprise."
"I'm sorry to have startled you, then."
Kougyoku's heart seized at that.
You're too friendly, she wanted to say, her mouth trembling earnestly, her fingers curling around her steaming teacup, you're too kind to be my sister, to be the Crown Princess.
Kindness was a scarcity in Rakushou. And all of her older sisters had thus far been very cruel to her, and all the nobles eschewed her company because of the circumstances of her birth. The truth of it was sometimes the only people in the entire palace she felt she could talk to were Kouha and Judar, and even then they weren't around very often. She wished she could talk to all her older brothers, because Koumei and Kouen had never judged her for existing, but they were never there for her, and they seemed too distant, always too busy and important for her to be talking to them.
Some small part of her had dreaded seeking out the Crown Princess again because she was her sister now—and like all her sisters, she was beautiful, and she was above her in rank. Kougyoku had feared that she would rebuff her attempt at approaching her, repulsed at having to associate with her kind, like everyone in the palace was.
But the memory of Sayuri's smile for Kougyoku, hidden in the Bamboo Palace, had stirred something within her. That smile that had only been for Kougyoku, for her, the lowly daughter of a street whore lucky enough to catch the Emperor's eye, had stirred hope in her, and she had secretly wished that the Crown Princess was as kind as she seemed to be.
And here her wish was.
"And you have nothing to apologize for, too," Sayuri said. She pushed a plate toward Kougyoku, winking. "If it bothers you so, call me Sayuri only in private. I'll do the same, for your sake.
"Now, are you hungry?"
On the plate were rice cakes, shaped like pale-pink chrysanthemums and white lotuses. When she hesitantly raised one and took a bite out of it, she made a little noise when she tasted juicy strawberry in her mouth.
"T-Thank you…"
Kougyoku blushed so hard she could feel her cheeks burn.
"…Sayuri."
The name was still very unfamiliar on her timid tongue. She hoped she hadn't pronounced it wrong.
"You're welcome to have tea and desserts with me anytime, Kougyoku," The way her name effortlessly rolled off Sayuri's tongue brought the smallest smile to her lips, and she nodded, heartened by the Crown Princess' encouraging response.
When Sayuri finished a rice cake herself and chuckled out of nowhere, the younger princess looked at her curiously. "By the way, was there something you had to tell me, before all this began?"
"Oh! Uh, n-no, I wanted to…" Kougyoku fumbled. She'd gone in search of the Crown Princess to 'see how well she'd settled in at the palace,' but it was admittedly an excuse to see her and curry her favor by flattering her and asking about her days (and whatnot, as Ka Koubun would've said.) The girl tried: "…I wanted to…see you?"
Sayuri smiled. "That's kind of you. I haven't been visited by many people in the palace, so thank you. Thank you too for your gifts on the day of my arrival here, I very much enjoyed the duck."
Embarrassed, she bowed her head. She had the sneaking suspicion Sayuri was well aware of the fact that she'd simply been trying to gain her favor as well, but she obviously chose not to speak about it.
But Kougyoku wanted to be honest with her new sister, so she willed herself to look her in the eyes, and tried wholeheartedly to convey her affection when she said in return: "Y-You're welcome too, Sayuri."
Sayu had engaged in the services of a seamstress not soon after her meeting with the youngest Kou princess. It was only a matter of time, anyway, because she did not have many robes made in the Kou style—the spilled tea on her old robes was a matter of coincidence, and it'd only served to remind her to get some new clothes made.
She didn't actually know any seamstresses yet, however, so she'd had to inquire Kyouya about it. He'd arranged everything for her, but when the time for the measuring actually came, she was surprised to find out that the seamstress was meeting her at Kouen's chambers.
Kouen. As in her husband.
She glared at Kyouya. "I hope this isn't your idea of a joke."
Her friend scoffed. "It isn't. Ruyi Qi is one of the seamstresses the imperial household keeps in their employ. She also happens to be the one your husband seems to favor."
The way he said husband with such venom almost lightened her mood. But—and here she wrinkled her forehead, as if she were contemplating a painful situation—"We haven't spoken in a while."
Kyouya looked at her with slight surprise. "Has he asked you in his chambers ever since your wedding night?"
"No," Sayu replied. When Kyouya continued staring, she asked, a little self-consciously, "What?"
"Nothing. I merely thought otherwise."
They continued until they were finally at Kouen's wing. Though technically—perhaps it could be called her wing as well, since she lived there too. Kyouya bid her goodbye, and left her to brave the measuring session alone.
She nodded at Seishuu as Davvid pulled the doors open for her. Bolts of fabric covered nearly every inch of Kouen's chambers when Sayuri stepped inside.
The seamstress was there, with her numerous assistants; of course, so was Kouen, without his cape for once.
"Ah, you must be her!" Ruyi cried with such excitement. She brandished a measuring tape at Sayuri like it was a weapon, and the princess had to fight the urge to take a step back in caution.
Too bad had Davvid insisted on staying outside.
She was surprised to find Ruyi was not a middle-aged woman, but someone only a few years older than her; she could be thirty at the very most. With the way Kouen had removed his cape and seemed used to her loud and exuberant manner, Sayu guessed that they were familiar with each other.
Ruyi looked like she was about to tackle Sayuri, but not before she stopped herself and curtsied deeply—her assistants silently followed her example. "Your Highness,"
"This is Lady Ruyi Qi. Qi, this is the Crown Princess Sayuri, from our eastern ally, Jishou." Kouen said from the other side of the room. He was buckling his belt, apparently finished with the measuring. He pulled on his cape with one swift flourish, "I've work to do."
He promptly walked out of the bedroom, disappearing into the study once again. Which left Sayuri truly alone with the seamstress, but she breathed the smallest sigh of relief when it happened.
Ruyi was examining her from head to toe with a critical eye. "Dear me, what is this fabric? And the style! Quite cylindrical, but rather elegant. Trust Kouen to find such a fashionable wife!"
She approached Sayu, pinching the voluminous sleeves of her robes and her wide sash. "Tell me, Your Highness, are these fabrics produced in Ji-zhou?"
Still. Initial caution aside, Sayuri couldn't help her amusement. "Yes, Lady Ruyi, they're made in Jishou. The central provinces near the capital, actually."
"Well I must pay a visit to your friend the ambassador! Korechika certainly ought to know how to convince a few companies to begin trading these. That, or he'd know how to book me passage to the east this instant! How marvelous."
The wondrous tone Ruyi employed made Sayuri smile. It warmed her heart to know that her excitement for the alliance between Kou and Jishou was earnest. Few people openly expressed such sentiments so plainly.
"I can certainly help you there, Lady Ruyi," The princess gently said, "I work alongside Ambassador Korechika to facilitate the trade of Jishouan goods to Kou and vice versa."
Ruyi clapped her hands. "Oh yes! My husband did say something about that. I ought to listen to him more, you know, but he's rather dull. Forgive my ignorance, Your Highness, but a seamstress is always distracted around such gorgeous silks."
Sayuri ought to have known that Ruyi was married. And to someone boring it seemed; she chuckled at the thought.
Ruyi got to work, and Sayu answered whatever eager questions she had, fashion-related or not.
"Do you find blue to your liking? It would be such a flattering color."
"How long is this sash of yours? It seems very long! How I would love for this to be in fashion here! Do your maids tie it for you? Are there other ways to tie this knot? Are these—oh dear, the padding!"
"How do you feel about flowers? Dragons? Or would you rather plain silks? I know this very good painter in Hanmo."
When all was said and done, Ruyi stepped back and grinned as wide as her face would allow her. "I have excellent ideas in my head! Promise me, Crown Princess, that you will visit my studio in the city, Korechika knows the address…"
Sayuri pretended to think about it for a moment. Then she returned the seamstress' smile—"Of course."
"Ah!" The lady clapped her hands together, "And here I was thinking I'd have to convince Kouen to bring you! Thank you, Your Highness!"
She was left to don her robes again, because Ruyi had made her strip to get her measurements; Fuu helped her as she went, and as she was tying the massive knot on her sash, Sayu pondered.
There had been a matter of interest that popped up whenever she went to her meetings with Korechika and the trade board. When she went to bed at night, it stayed on her mind; it was nothing truly important—as of the moment, anyway—but now that she was here…
The princess nodded at Fuu as she stepped out of the room again. Sayu padded silently to the study, where she knew her husband would be—
There he was, of course. Brush in hand, a report in the other. Sayuri felt this would become a regular sight whenever she would choose to seek him out. He did not stop his work as she approached him, and she stopped in front of his desk, fully intending to wait for him to acknowledge her.
Eventually he got the idea and put his brush down. Kouen looked at her questioningly, but still gestured for her to sit. She shook her head, a smile playing on her face.
"I…have a request."
Notes:
Not very romantic, I know. But Sayu and Kouen don't really know each other so...it shall be remedied in the next chapter. :-) This one's sort of a filler, with some side characters we'll see again in Kou.
(1) Since the plot allows it, I poked some fun at Kouen's fashion's sense, with the hairpin and the seamstress; he seems rather fastidious about his appearance, given that he wears such complicated robes on a daily basis.
(2) I know that wives of important noblemen would normally be more concerned about mistresses and concubines, but this is Sayu and Kouen we're talking about here. More on this in later chapters.
(3) Kougyoku's POV implies that she talked to the Jie siblings at the wedding banquet; that night's events is something I want to explore in another side-character's POV, but since it's not truly important to Sayu's story and adding that POV in would've been confusing for chapter 11...I'm posting it later, as a oneshot.
(4) So about Sinbad: it's chapter 12 and he's still not here, I know, I'm sorry. Actually I've taken to writing the chapters differently, because in general the plot's moving at a much slower pace than I like. But he'll be in the fic, with his own role to fill and his own complicated arc, I promise.
Next chapter: the royal couple does couple-y things (fluff? Kouen's POV? find out ), the rest of the Kou crew, and, well, shenanigans. It'll be up soon, too!
I want to give my humblest thanks to the people who've taken the time to write trifling old me a review; I love reading and responding to them, and they're great motivation to get the next chapter out sooner. To everyone that's put this fic on their faves/alerts list, thank you as well, and I hope you decide to stop by and write me about how this fic is so far!
I want everyone's honest opinion about the plot, the OCs, the interpretations of canon characters, the writing, everything about this fic, because I'm constantly trying to refine and make this fic better for you, the readers, as well as my own sake. Constructive criticism is welcomed, and I really mean this wholeheartedly. I'll be glad to take up your suggestions and opinions!