14
Domestication
"Good morning."
Judging from the amount of light coming in through the opened windows, it was probably already four or five hours since dawn—perhaps two hours until noon. Rising from her sleepy stupor and rubbing her eyes, Sayuri glanced to her left. Kouen was beside her, reading a scroll in his hands.
She wanted to rub her temples next, wondering if letting the events of the night before transpire had been wise on her part. I must have been more tired than I thought last night.
There had been an argument about letting her roam the palace at night.
The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to roll her eyes. She'd simply been intending to go on a walk last night, to sort out her thoughts, and she'd somehow ended up in his bed.
Wryly, she considered the fact that their petty argument had the unintended effect of pushing away all those other thoughts anyway. And—and here she gazed at her rumpled sleeping robe, the pillow that still had the indentation of where her head had been in these past few hours—she'd gotten a long night's rest, if her dreamless sleep and alertness right then were any indication.
Kouen had unknowingly offered her a lifeline when he challenged her pride and her competence at a simple board game. For that, she probably owed him at least a good morning in return.
"Morning," Sayuri turned to her husband, unsure if she should smile or not. She settled on a faintly curious expression. Mindful of the late hour, she asked, "Did I keep you waiting?"
He set his scroll down. "No." He peered at her, and here they were, sitting by each other on his bed, locked in a staring contest he'd unwillingly dragged her into. She fought the urge to fidget.
Right, she remembered, I've only been in his bed once before this.
Once, and it'd already been about a month since then—their wedding night.
She also fought the pang of guilt she felt at that.
Her brows knit together when her mind latched onto something else that had been discussed last night: Koumei had spoken in her ear about a hunt today, and knowing hunts, she'd expected it to start out early in the morning. "If I remember it right, there was a hunt scheduled this morning. Aren't you going?"
"Which is why I didn't wake you any earlier." Her husband said patiently, as if talking to a child, returning his attention to his scroll as he rolled it up and set it on his nightstand.
The princess huffed silently at his answer; it was distinctly not an answer, and of course it could lose the slight condescension that accompanied it. She tried again, "Well, aren't you going?"
Kouen resettled on his bed, staring at her with intent. "Are you?"
She blew a strand of her silver hair out of her eyes. It seemed fruitless to ask a third time, so she took another breath—posed with such an elegant question by her husband, a man of such many words, she had no other choice but to consider it.
The Empress' hunt. Sayuri was unsure if she actually wanted to go, but that was of no importance; what was important was if said husband wanted to go, as she would be obliged to go along with him. Though they were still at the early stage of their marriage, she was already well aware of the duties she would be shouldering as his partner, of which included keeping him company at all his court functions.
It made her wonder why he was even asking for her opinion; it was obvious that she wouldn't have any, because it was only his that mattered.
She said as much. "It's important that I attend every occasion you attend. Hence why I'm asking if you intend to go."
Really, she mused, we're going in circles.
Or was he unaware of the fact that women generally didn't have a choice in matters such as these? Sayuri looked at him, her eyes narrowed.
He didn't bat an eye at her scrutiny. Kouen just explained: "The Emperor will undoubtedly notice my absence, as well as the rest of my family. However, the Empress will take not offense, and it is no real matter of consequence if we miss this one hunt."
Something about his carless tone struck her. It was like he could care less about going, which was curious, and before she could think twice, the words had already slipped out of her mouth: "Don't you enjoy hunting?"
Her mind turned this tidbit over in her head quickly. Like every other prince who practiced swordsmanship and other hobbies considered to be masculine in nature, Kouen seemed the type to relish a good hunt. And perhaps he would be missing something, because his entire family would be there, as well as the more important courtiers and government officials. That was how hunts went, in her experience—it was practically tradition that the royalty would hold these hunts for sport, as an expression of their wealth and power, and as an occasion for important people to congregate and talk with one another.
So it was an absolute surprise when he merely scoffed at her question. Then he said: "I don't. While it is a good way to practice archery and tracking, the hunts in Rakushou are nothing more than grown men trying to outdo each other, and letting their servants do most of the actual hunting."
He sounded so disdainful of the entire thing that it made Sayu chuckle.
When she noticed his stare, she shook her head, trying to make it clear that she wasn't laughing at him.
"No! I just—" She looked away for a moment, suddenly unsure about why she was even explaining herself to him. "I had expected you to like that kind of thing. But it seems I'm not entirely wrong, at least."
She contemplated: this would be her first hunt in Kou, if she went; she would get to observe firsthand how the Kou court and nobility interacted with the royalty, outside the imperial palace. But it also meant going on a hunt, riding on horseback, and—most likely—having to find something to do with herself while also pretending to be 'hunting for game.'
"What you said seems true however," she remarked, "for any hunt with the nobility."
There was no shortage of bored noblemen trying to exhibit their masculinity around the world, after all. And, yes, while she did think that hunts were intended for important people to gather and chat, more often than not these important people just wanted to brag about their falcons or their horses, or whatever new animal they'd managed to strike down in their last hunt…
As if reading her less than charitable thoughts, Kouen made a noise of wry agreement. Something that suspiciously sounded like a hmm.
It did not escape her notice either that this was perhaps the most normal-sounding conversation they'd had since the entire time they'd known each other. It made the back of her neck prickle, like she would from then on be hyperaware of everything that was slipping out of her mouth.
She pursed her lips. They'd gotten sidetracked from the reason they were having this normal-sounding conversation in the first place. "So," Sayu tried, "are you going?"
"You seem reluctant."
Sayu let out a breath, twisting a stray silver strand of her hair away from her face. She then said, blunt as she could manage, "I wasn't asking about me. I asked if you wanted to go."
And—truth be told, she was still surprised that he was even commenting on her opinion. That he was seemingly checking if she wanted to go, because he knew that she would be obliged to come if he went to the hunt.
"We're already late." Kouen reminded tonelessly.
Only because you waited this long for me to wake up, she felt with some guilt. Sayuri just sighed. "I don't feel reluctant to go, if you must know," She pronounced and, despite her hesitance, she shared: "only worried that I'd have nothing to do."
She sounded petty and childish for worrying over such a thing. He'd asked however, and she'd only acquiesced.
But Kouen simply nodded and got up from the bed.
Noticing her staring, he only continued to walk towards some drawers a few steps away. "Stay close to Koumei. He will be using the opportunity to go bird watching."
It was just as well. Sayuri hadn't held a bow in what felt like forever. She'd ridden, yes; she was an adept at that least, but archery? No. Even more laughable was her skill in falconry, which was more or less non-existent. Underneath her breath, she said a silent prayer of thanks for Koumei and his fascination with birds.
She stood and patted her silk sleeping robes down, running one hand through her hair; well aware of the fact that it was her fault they were running late to the hunt, she made her way for the doors of his chambers, saying over her shoulder: "I'll be ready in twenty minutes."
Not soon after the hunt, the Empress had invited her to tea. Both Davvid and Fuu were watching and listening curiously as the messenger Gyokuen had sent relayed her invitation, and both of them sat with her in her boudoir later as they contemplated the situation.
Sayuri flicked a lock of her hair back over her shoulder. "It's not as if I wasn't expecting this," She said out loud, "I suppose I'll have to wear something very proper. Put my hair up, maybe wear one—if not all—of Kouen's jewelry."
Davvid was peeling some large Jishouan oranges, and the sprightly citrus scent made Sayu's finger's twitch, but she waited, because the magister gave the peeled oranges to Fuu and Fuu refused to let her eat anything more than one orange segment at a time.
You always eat too much anyway, and you get it all over your robes sometimes, the blonde would admonish.
Nevertheless, they were good oranges, large, sweet and juicy from the fruit basket of Jishou. The princess popped another segment into her mouth as Fuu said, "He's her step-son only. Perhaps it wouldn't matter as much to her…"
Sayuri debated the thought. Gyokuen was her mother-in-law, technically, though she wasn't even related to Kouen by blood—it made her relationship to the Empress rather odd. She hadn't particularly been approached by the Empress in her stay at Rakushou so far, but each time they met she'd been nothing but kind and welcoming, if only a little too busy for Sayuri.
The princess did not hold it against Gyokuen. If anything, Sayu had come to understand that Gyokuen was more involved with the Empire's daily affairs than she'd first thought, which was surprising. She hadn't thought Koutoku the type to cede so much control over to his consort—rumor had it that when the Emperor felt uninterested in meeting with his ministers, Gyokuen filled his place.
A contradiction. Koutoku didn't seem to hold high regard for the fairer sex, which was the same treatment she received when she first arrived in Kou. It was a testament to this perception that Sayuri had never really seen Kouen's birth mother, or Kouha's, or Kougyoku's, or the other seven imperial princesses' mothers, nor really heard of them, outside whatever court gossip she was given.
That surely made Gyokuen special. Maybe because she was the previous Emperor's wife—Hakutoku's beloved and only wife, she'd heard—and her assent to marry Koutoku further legitimized his claim as Emperor. Who knew; these were questions she could not just simply ask any of the people in possession of the answers.
…
…Well, she supposed she could ask Koumei. Or Kougyoku. But it would be so awkward and indelicate, and she knew the imperial household kept their family secrets very, very well, and for their own reasons, otherwise she would know thrice as much as she did right then.
Sayu ate another orange segment, filing away the thought as she swallowed.
To her surprise, she was not alone in meeting the Empress for tea. It seemed she brought her two blood children as well, the same two that had only returned from the northern border. Captain Hakuei and her silent brother, Hakuryuu. They all exchanged formal bows at the sight of each other, except for Gyokuen, who just watched them with slight amusement. The Empress accepted Sayuri's deep curtsy with a warm expression, saying brightly, "Come sit, Sayuri."
The way her name rolled off her tongue was almost motherly in its ease, the Empress' request rife with eagerness and care as she fluttered her hand at a seat. It was a form of address that felt too familiar for someone that barely knew her, but Sayuri let the sentiment slide; she knew she was speaking to the Empress and her mother-in-law, and as Empress she could do nearly anything she pleased.
The four of them gathered around a low table set in one of the palace's gazebos, a quaint little tea party shaded from the spring sun. The gardens were warm today, but in this particular part the peonies were in full bloom, their sweet, rosey scent drifting lightly in the air.
Sayuri said nothing as maids and attendants scurried to serve them their tea and desserts. The Empress thanked them with a wide smile, and she gestured for them to help themselves, her expression obligingly conveying eat, eat, my children.
Rather noticeably, only she and Hakuei partook.
Hakuryuu was quiet, even as Gyokuen spoke again: "I wanted to ask how you've been adjusting to life here in Kou."
"Thank you for your concern, Your Imperial Majesty," She started tentatively, making sure her tone was modulated with equal amounts of gratitude, respectfulness, and awe, "I've been well. Rakushou is beautiful, and the gardens in the palace more so."
It was also more or less a standard answer: she'd been asked this question countless of times, by a countless number of people; a nicety, just as much as the question itself was a nicety, and she always tailored her answer to whatever it was she guessed would please her partner in conversation.
She knew she couldn't help but be cautious around her new party. Gyokuen, Hakuei, and even Hakuryuu were all people she hadn't dealt with in the past. Times like these always called for caution and deliberation, so as not to offend people, and thus getting the most out of her interactions with them.
Ha, Sayuri thought wryly, politicking at its finest.
The Empress broke her out of her ruminations. "Has Kouen helped your settling in a great deal?"
Seamlessly, Sayuri picked up the inflections in her voice. There was an impish tone to it, and Gyokuen's bright aquamarine eyes and long fan-like lashes fluttered and danced with friendly teasing.
She glanced at the cup of tea Hakuei was kindly pouring her, to buy her time to construct an answer. It was suddenly very easy to think that she was speaking to another woman her age, gossiping about the men in their lives, when only minutes earlier Gyokuen had been mothering her with a seat and motioning for her to eat and drink. Sayuri had to remember: she was speaking to the Empress—a woman who was in her forties, and mother to the two other members of the Imperial Family dining with them right then—and Sayu stifled the urge to knight her brows together.
It was—jarring; incongruous in a way she couldn't fathom, to say the least. Gyokuen was puzzling, between the mothering and the girlish ribbing. She didn't know where the balance between the two lay, if she was more motherly or more girlish in nature, otherwise she would know how to act around the Empress.
She masked all of this. The princess simply bowed her head, remembering she'd been asked a question about Kouen, and smiled. "The Crown Prince has been most kind."
Another platitude. Sayu nodded at Hakuei, another small smile in place to belatedly thank her for the cup of tea, and she took one sip.
It was sweet. Very sweet. Blackberry tea, akin to a blend Kougyoku had served her once.
"I noticed that you both arrived late to the hunt," Gyokuen responded before eating a bite of her cake. She giggled—a high pitched thing, like the tinkling of a small bell—and as some crumbs flaked off her pastry, she delicately clapped her hands against each other to get rid of them. "Long night, I presume?"
You have no idea, Sayuri would've said, were it someone else. She opted to just give a quiet laugh of her own, trying her best to appear agreeable. "When Your Majesty puts it that way…yes."
A silence ensued. It wasn't exactly uncomfortable—but the Empress looked at her with a knowing smile, and let the conversation lapse, as she seemed busy with her cakes and engaging Hakuei in some talk about the northern border.
She became aware of Hakuryuu, who'd been seated to her left, looking at her. The boy was staring rather openly, to which she responded with a little tilt of her head, a mildly curious expression taking shape on her face. She still hadn't spoken much to him, and while he hadn't seemed hostile, thus far he didn't seem very friendly either.
"Please, Princess Sayuri," The thirteen year old suddenly spoke in a blank, polite tone, "try the tofu."
The Fourth Imperial Prince of Kou pointed at a small porcelain bowl filled with a glossy white cube, swimming in a lake of brown syrup.
Feeling curious, Sayu nodded and took a duck spoon. She took a piece of the silken tofu; it split easily under her spoon, and she dipped the piece to soak it in a little of its syrup. In her mouth, the dessert was the perfect balance of sugarcane sweet and bland, with hints of soybean. The tofu was perfectly soft in her mouth.
After she swallowed, she smiled a little more earnestly at the young boy, speaking in low tones, "That was very good. Thank you for your expert recommendation."
He colored at her genuine thanks and the gleeful little twist in her tone as she said the words expert recommendation. But all he did was nod and return to staring into his steaming teacup.
When her eyes slid over Captain Hakuei, she found the younger woman looking fondly at her brother, though Gyokuen still spoke in the background.
An hour later, Sayuri bid her thanks and goodbyes. While she took the garden path back to Kouen's wing and the Empress and the rest of her party took the path back to the Emperor's wing, she was stopped by Fuu's hand on her shoulder.
"Princess," She whispered, "look."
Sayuri turned back to find the two siblings from earlier, the robes of their mother's retinue fluttering behind them. But the two stayed, while the Empress' party drew further and further away.
The princess stopped, clasping her hands in the sleeves of her robes, regarding the two curiously. She curtsied, saying, "Princess Hakuei, Prince Hakuryuu."
She'd only noticed now, but standing under the radiant spring sun and wearing their pale robes, the two were rather alike. Hakuei and Hakuryuu seemed like different versions of the same person, and it was in the tilt of their noses, the shade of their hair, the point of their chins, and the shape of their eyes that she realized that person was the Empress. Gyokuen and Hakuei could easily even pass as sisters—which seemed all the more baffling, considering the Empress was in her forties.
What did the former Emperor look like, she wondered.
Under the spring sun, she also noticed the dark ring of skin surrounding one of Hakuryuu's eyes, and the almost stark white ring of color surrounding his pupil. Like something had burst right in front of the left side of his face, and marked it forever.
What on earth happened there?
In the meanwhile, the siblings formally returned her greeting, though when Hakuei stepped forward with a wide smile, there was nothing formal to it at all.
"I…" The Captain looked back at her brother. Hakuryuu nodded once. The younger princess turned to her, blue eyes alight with warmth, "…we wanted to extend our own personal welcome to Kou. We know it's late, but we wanted to welcome you, Crown Princess, regardless."
Sayuri looked at the two royals with surprise. Stifling her disbelief, she said, "I…thank you." She pursed her lips, unexpectedly rendered speechless at the few words Hakuei had spoken. She looked away for a moment, automatically saying, "Thank you, truly. Both of you."
The kindness in Hakuei's eyes was almost too much. What exactly had she done to deserve such an open welcome? She spied no duplicity, no mockery in the Kou princess's manner, only gentleness. This was something she would've expected from a naïve young girl like Kougyoku, not a hardened military Captain like Hakuei, and certainly not from a close collaborator of Kouen and Koumei.
It was silly that even now, her suspicion refused to let up, her cynicism still running at full tilt. What do you want from me, she could've said, but her mind was perfectly blank.
"You're part of the family now," Hakuei was saying, the smile on her milky white skin nearly blinding. She put her hand over her heart, like she was speaking right out of it, "Welcome, older sister."
The younger princess clasped her hands together and dipped her head, even as she honestly grinned. Behind her, Hakuryuu did the same, though his face stayed much more stoic.
Seeing them bowing to her was startling.
You're part of the family now.
Welcome, older sister.
Nobody had ever really said that to her before.
Sayuri found the urge to bow low, feeling numb and humbled and apprehensive.
But prostrating herself before the two of them would doubtless be unexpected and confusing, when they were only shallowly bowing to her.
So she bowed her own head only, uttering quietly, "Thank you."
That night she dreamt she was back in the stone palace, a massive complex on a hill with walls surrounding and countless steps leading up to it. Before her the stone city sprawled, rendered in limestone and marble; her fortified acropolis was a long carriage ride away from the agora and the town.
Here she'd been, trapped, imprisoned under the guise of protection; surrounded by no one but snakes and idolaters, a tangled mass of voices hissing into her ears, nearly indistinct from the sound of her own voice.
But that day was different. That day the palace was deathly quiet; as she stood on the balcony, her gaze swept upon her domain. Her vision gave way to the stone city, to endless fields whose lanes she knew were filled with saffron, olives, and figs, and to the sea—where more of her cities loomed just beyond.
The Crown Prince is doing well was the insidious ringing in her head, the words spoken every time she asked someone—anyone—about her husband.
Soon everything she gazed upon would be taken from her. The sea, the fields, the cities. She turned and made her way through the halls with their cavernous ceilings, through the deserted colonnade, the heels on her sandals clicking sharply against the marble floor.
Come home,
come home.
Alexander was late, he always was when returning to her, but her heart beat and searched for him anyway; alone, Sayuri sat in the massive courtyard, her head in her hands, tears suddenly pouring out from the bottom of her soul.
No one except the busts and the statues littering the courtyard bore her grief; nothing but their stony eyes staring at her with stoic sympathy, and their bodies lying still and unmoving no matter what seasons, what days, what people came and went.
A hand landed on her shoulder.
An old witch's voice came with it. She felt both relief and despair at her ancient presence, internally bidding her to leave and stay at the same time.
The voice was rough, having given invaluable counsel to so many leaders and monarchs older, and much more wiser than her. "You've done a great good."
A pregnant pause. Then it resumed, in its subdued but fervently grateful tone, speaking the words she'd never in her life wanted to hear: "Thank you."
No magister should ever feel beholden to anyone, much less to a person like her, after what she'd done.
"The Queen wasn't helping. She—she wasn't helping at all. I had no choice, it had to be done," Sayuri whispered back, "it had to be done."
The witch tutted, then sighed, the weight of her hand lifting off of Sayuri's shoulder. "Yes. As I said…wars will always go badly, Princess."
In a cold sweat, Sayuri woke up once again in her chambers at Rakushou, the image of her dead husband's face burned to the back of her eyelids. It took one shaky moment as Fuu rushed to her bedside, the tea tray abandoned on the top of a dresser, and she kneeled while gripping Sayuri's trembling hand.
"I'm fine," The princess uttered quietly, gazing at her friend. Fuu's concerned face stared back at her, and Sayu reassuringly squeezed the blonde's hand. "Just a bad dream."
They were finished with reviewing the details of their visit to Ruyi Qi's studio in Rakushou, outside the walls of the Imperial Palace's complex, when her and Kyouya slumped into an unusual silence.
Unusual, because her friend seemed musing, debating about telling her something. She tilted her head at him playfully, lifting a single brow. "Something on your mind? Huang for your thoughts?"
The mention of Kou's currency made him roll his eyes. Thank god we didn't have to convert to their currency, was always what that eye-roll said when it came to the huang.
When he refused to speak, Sayu nodded, face pulling into an exaggeratedly understanding expression. "Alright then."
She continued to eat her dumplings in silence, sipping her tea every now and then. And after ten seconds passed…
"Fine," He muttered. Sayuri grinned in triumph. She put her chopsticks down, sparing only one proud thought to how far she'd come with using it.
When he seemed to be finished with gathering himself, he turned his flinty grey eyes on her, his mouth pulled into a fine, thin line.
"I'll be returning to Jishou in a fortnight," Kyouya finally said.
It took her a moment to process the words.
She pursed her lips, then chuckled wryly. "Well, at least you had the decency to tell me now, as opposed to telling me on the day you were actually leaving."
The memory of a tall magister with his head crowned by lush black curls came to mind.
Sayuri paused. Eyes flickering from him to the garden view offered by her boudoir's window, she continued softly, "For how long?"
When she received only silence, she looked at him again. Kyouya was stoic, but under her searching gaze he seemed unable to keep up his façade, and he shook his head. His voice was sighing when he muttered, "I am unsure. Months, maybe."
She scrunched her face as if in pain. "Who will help me speak to the ministers then? We both know it was your presence that first allowed me to speak to them."
Kyouya breathed in sharply. "That—that was another matter I wanted to speak to you about," He uttered, his deep voice suddenly rattling in his throat. It was almost like he was stuttering, which was strange, because Kyouya Korechika, the dignified pride of the esteemed Korechika Clan, never stuttered.
He looked at her piercingly, grey eyes flashing at her. "You cannot meet with the ministers like we've been doing in the last weeks anymore."
"What?" Sayuri sputtered, taken by complete surprise. "But we've done so much! Surely you cannot think that I would be a burden, or a detriment to those meetings—"
The ambassador made a noise of impatience. "You're missing the point. In the days leading up to your coronation nobody thought much of the foreigner wife of the Crown Prince representing her former country in talks about commerce. But you've been crowned for a while now, and we've already finished laying the groundwork for our merchants to ply their trade. Your place isn't in representing Jishou and the Triangle anymore."
"And just where do you think my place is, Kyouya?" She hissed. She looked away from him, not believing this ridiculous conversation was even taking place, "In Kouen's bed? By Kouen's side, watching everyone grovel at his feet?"
"Yes."
One word. One word and still it was a cold knife to her gut.
She peered at him—and Kyouya Korechika's face was solemn, completely serious.
Hidden in the steel of his eyes was the barest hint of regret.
"You are his wife," Kyouya said, simply.
He seemed to take a deep breath and wrench his eyes shut, as if he were pained by trying to bring himself to say these words to her. He continued lowly, in a tenuous voice, "Not an official emissary sent by King Mameyoshi, or a member of the Royal Family of Jishou."
His wife.
Her friend's gaze drifted, and she watched his throat clench as if in slow motion. "You are the Crown Princess. A member of the Imperial Family…
"…the future Empress of Kou."
Unbidden, Hakuei's words from only a few days ago rung in her ears: you're a member of the family now. Welcome, older sister.
Sayuri felt her herself go pale.
It had always been an unspoken thing in the back of her mind; like taboo, only ever to be contemplated at her own risk. She'd known, of course she'd known, that she would be expected to carry out certain duties. She'd been so mindful of them, because she had already been another Crown Prince's wife in the past—
—yet perhaps that had been the problem; she knew, and all along she'd been willfully denying it or just plainly avoiding that truth, by burying herself in the meetings with Kyouya, telling herself it was for the good of everyone involved, and silently dreading whenever Kouen would so much as mention I expect to see you tonight.
Pain welled up in her chest.
I know who I am and what is expected of me, I'm well aware that I am his wife and property, and—
I know.
I know.
I.
Know.
She took one long breath. She was in Kou because Kouen had asked for her hand. She had agreed because she thought she had a duty to protect Jishou and secure peace for the Triangle. She had gone to all those meetings because she thought she could help—and she had, she was sure of it.
And now, what was left for her to do?
Easy.
Fulfill the rest of your bargain, the voice in her mind supplied quietly, and that includes being a good wife.
You're a member of the Imperial Family now, it's time you acted like it.
It was painful, because she'd done all of this in the interest of Jishou and the Triangle; yet when she married Kouen, it had always been clear that she'd also been expected to give up all those same parts of her that belonged to Jishou and the Triangle.
Whatever was left of her after that was to be styled and shaped into all the right parts of a Kou wife.
Sayuri sighed. When she spoke again, her voice was light, trying too hard to keep the sadness out of her voice. "Of course. You're right; forgive me for lashing out at you."
All things she did now, she would be expected to do for Kou.
And so her vow to Kouen had gone: I will honor you, as I honor this Empire.
Kyouya said nothing in reply. Only looked at her with that same hidden regret.
Sayuri had been thinking of going to see Kouen for a while now, but he unexpectedly appeared in her chambers as she'd been going through her missives, and thus saved her the trouble.
She looked up when the doors to her chambers were slid open, and standing there was her husband, carrying something in his arm. He stepped through, entering her boudoir; his eyes found her instantly, sitting at the far end of the room.
"Hello," She stood, throat surprisingly feeling tight, ever since her talk with Kyouya a couple of days earlier. Sayuri hid the fidgeting of her hands as she clasped them in her sleeves, struggling to find the right tone to address him. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Dimly, somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized this was the first time he'd ever been inside her chambers.
Kouen looked at her with a brow lifted, as if he'd instantly noticed her unusual nervousness. She bit her lip; if only he knew how much she'd been thinking about him in recent times.
Bad line of thought, she winced. It wasn't as if she'd fallen in love with him or anything—just, it was just she'd decided to be more…gracious to him.
When she looked back at all that transpired, Kouen had let her sleep in his bed, that day. He hadn't bothered her as she slept, even if he'd climbed in next to her, and hadn't woken her once. He'd waited, and after that—they'd proceeded to have some kind of civil conversation, where he'd practically asked her if she wanted to go to the Empress's hunt, even after she told him her opinion didn't matter.
He'd been attentive. Stay close to Koumei, he'd said in reply when she'd told him of her fear of having nothing to do at the hunt, unknowingly assuaging her childish worry.
Yet most of all—
Last night in bed, just as she'd finished preparing to go to sleep, she'd remembered the first time she'd shared a bed with Kouen, their wedding night.
He'd been gentle. She'd willingly given herself to him, but he'd been gentle, and when it was over, he'd kept to himself, as if—as if to give her space, and intended or not, she realized she appreciated it.
Such small kindnesses, even if they bore the emotionless face of her new husband, and they came with the price of shackling herself to Kou. It was bittersweet, but he'd never been cruel to her thus far, and had never laid a hand on her. He listened to her questions and requests, and treated her…well, in a way.
She had agreed to marrying him. It was a transaction; secure peace, marry him and be a good wife. The princess owed him for these small kindnesses, and she knew deep within her heart that her absence and her avoiding of him was not the way to repay it, nor was it the way to foster a good—if not decent—working relationship with him.
Something needed to be done.
Sayuri cleared her throat, when she realized Kouen had absolutely caught her spacing out and worrying about these things in her head, and had knowingly chosen to stay silent. "Was there something you needed?"
He was still looking at her, as if searching for any sign for something wrong. He then held out his arm. "I came to return this."
It was her coat, from when she'd spent the night in his chambers. As she recalled, she'd left it on top of his war table, in his study. Strange; he must've noticed it before now, seeing as the war table was a fairly conspicuous place to forget something, but he only returned it now.
"You could've sent someone to bring it back," Sayuri said curiously, and took the heavy coat of stiff black silk from him. She bowed her head, however. "But thank you, all the same. I hadn't noticed it was gone."
She'd left his room in such a rush that day. Just as she was handing off her coat to Fuu, Kouen spoke again: "You met with the Empress."
The princess stared at him. She nodded once. "I did."
The Empress, Gyokuen; a puzzle, but she hadn't run into her again in the palace, and remained out of reach.
"It wasn't for long; I only had tea with her. Princess Hakuei and Prince Hakuryuu were there as well."
Kouen seemed to contemplate this.
With an abrupt nod of his own, he made to leave.
"Wait!"
Her husband stopped, and his back carrying his broad shoulders, without the customary black cape for once, was all she saw as she felt her mouth go dry. She took another breath to compose herself—she'd caught his attention, and it was better to speak now, when he was already here.
She took one small step closer to him, knowing this was an important conversation to have, and he turned to face her once again.
This close, Sayuri had to look up to him a little since he was still taller than her.
She licked her lips.
Then she blurted: "I thought you should know that I'll be visiting the city, tomorrow."
Ah. That was not what she'd intended at all, but—it worked just as well. She would certainly not be asking him for his permission to tour Rakushou, of all things, but this would be a good prelude to what she truly had to say. Or so she hoped.
Kouen's face remained serious, though the subtle shift in his brow told her he was considering what she'd just said. He then gazed at her in his unimpressed manner, as if to say, was that all?
"I hope you intend to bring a proper guard with you," His crimson eyes bore into her own, and for a moment she was unsure if he was scolding her for wandering around the palace at night, or it was his attempt at some very, very deadpan humor.
Sayuri bit the inside of her cheek, reining in a retort. "I'll be going with Kyouya. We're bringing a full party with guards, I assure you."
She paused to find the right words for what she would next say. As if he'd picked up on this as well, he then said: "And?"
The princess thought for a moment. They never really spent much time together, and she'd always wondered if it was the product of a machination on his part, on her part, or both their parts, consciously or unconsciously.
The wives of nobles, princes, kings, and surely emperors were expected to serve as part of their husband's entourage, and accompany them in all their functions; they were great hostesses, to organize events that would bring honor and prestige to their husband's name, and most of all they were the ones their husband spent their time alone with, and became his most trusted ally.
Even Gyokuen could be considered a great wife, because she did all those things. She'd organized the hunt, and filled in for Koutoku on the days he couldn't meet his ministers. In the few times she'd seen both the Emperor and the Empress, they'd always seemed to be talking amongst each other, keeping themselves company.
Sayuri's own mother was the perfect wife. She was her father's right hand, and what's more was she loved Mameyoshi deeply.
Before, when she'd been the Crown Princess of Caera…Sayuri vividly remembered writing often to Alexander in the later years of their marriage, talking fondly with him, and doing most of everything together.
Clearly something was different, here.
Even if Kouen's days were filled to the brim with war meetings and his own preparations for Kou's war campaigns, a marriage should've found a compromise for all these necessities. She'd busied herself with the trade board before, but now she had no excuse for avoiding him.
And he'd been kind.
He'd been kind, in the smallest of manners, despite his arrogance.
"Perhaps it's already come to your attention," Sayuri began, her heart beating loudly in her ears, and feeling Kouen's red eyes still on her was in no way helping her scramble to find the proper rephrasing of I know I've been neglecting my wifely duties, and I'm trying to correct this mistake, "but I've ceased meeting with Minister Choyian and the rest of his board. We've finished all the agreements that would allow trade to occur between Kou and Jishou smoothly now."
Her breath caught in her throat. That had been a rather long explanation, and she suspected it had also been unnecessary; with the way Kouen seemed not at all surprised by her declaration, he was already well aware of what she'd just told him.
She knit her brows.
Keep it short.
Her husband was a smart, perceptive man. She did not need to say much.
She attempted to smile at him. Yet just thinking of the words she was about to say still felt like getting her throat cut open.
He is your husband.
He is all you have, here, in Kou.
And you are his wife.
"I'm yours, Kouen," Sayuri uttered, "whenever you need me."
Kouen was quiet.
But then he dipped his head, acknowledgement and simple acceptance all in one. "I know."
Notes:
It's easy to deny when life is being unfair, tbh. Denial is so commonplace - so human, lol.
(1) Fun reminder, I should say that the narration isn't necessarily...reliable? For example: this chapter was entirely done in Sayuri's POV, and what we read is her own warped view of the things see shes, experiences, etc. It's not exactly the truth, but it's what she sees.
(2) I'm sorry this one's so plot heavy; I'm really trying to distill the writing, because when I reconsidered how many chapters were left in this story, it made me a little faint. Heck, we aren't even near Sinbad's reappearance yet.
(3) A response to morpehusandmuse's anon review: I'm sorry about Sinbad - since I just mentioned his reappearance isn't near yet - but here's appreciation for your respective partner, because we all know it's the little things that count in life. :-)
As always, it's been a pleasure writing for you folks! Welcome to all new readers out there, who've just followed/faved this fic; feel free to drop any comments, constructive criticism, especially. To all who've penned me a review - a big thanks, and I had fun reading them; I'll be responding shortly!
Thanks for reading this far!