by eden Hudson
While the alchemist went to a long workbench covered with jars and stone boxes and flasks, Koida’s attention was drawn to the rough wall of wooden shelves dividing the laboratory into a half-moon. This wall of shelving had not existed on her last visit. She could see movement in the crack between two shelves but couldn’t discern what was being done on the other side or who was doing it.
Sulyeon returned with a gritty green ointment that smelled like sharp herbs and salts. She rubbed the concoction onto Koida’s knuckles, and within moments, the throbbing subsided.
“That is much better. I think I will tell Master Lao that your science is not far from magic,” Koida said, dipping her head to the reluctantly pleased alchemist. “Gratitude, gifted healer.”
Koida slipped her hands back inside her sleeves and was about to ask Sulyeon about the shelves dividing the room when a slender, white-haired form ducked out from behind the barrier into the laboratory.
“Cousin Yoichi?”
The young man stopped midstride, clearly surprised, then bowed to her. “Cousin Koida.”
She returned his bow. Though Yoichi was not truly her cousin, he was a blood relation. Shyong Liu Yoichi was her father’s only known son, a bastard from a harem girl. The version of his story Koida had heard was that, twenty-three years before, Shingti’s mother, the late first empress, had been told by the eunuchs she could never have a child. Distraught, the first empress asked Emperor Hao’s most beautiful harem girl to stop taking precautions and sent the emperor to her. Two months later, both the first empress and the harem girl were pregnant.
The eunuchs who’d pronounced the first empress infertile were put to death for their blunder. Not wanting her child to have competition for the throne but unwilling to kill a pregnant woman, the first empress sent the harem girl away. Shingti was born the heir, and the first empress died in childbirth. Her death seemed only a tragic accident until Koida was born to her father’s fourth wife, the fourth empress, who also died giving birth. One at a time over the following years, the remaining Empresses died of illnesses and accidents. Behind closed doors, citizens claimed the deaths were the result of a curse put on the emperor’s wives by the wronged harem girl.
Rumors continued to fly until five summers previous when Yoichi had appeared at court to petition the emperor for his right to the throne. Though his hair was snowy white, Yoichi’s high cheekbones, slanting jaw, and purple eyes left no doubt as to who had sired him. He was a looking glass image of Emperor Hao as a young man, but handsomer, nearly beautiful, as if an artist had refined the father’s characteristics in the son. His mother, Yoichi explained, had died in childbirth like Shingti’s and Koida’s, a complication the midwife had speculated came from their shared father. He then revealed his Heroic Record—the tattoos covering his arms and chest that recorded his greatest feats of battle. He had waited to come to the palace until he had advanced himself and mastered the Path of the Living Blade so that he would be worthy of his place in the Shyong San dynasty.
Though Emperor Hao had refused to take away Shingti’s birthright and give it to Yoichi, he had accepted his illegitimate son into the royal household, going so far as to give him the Shyong clan name and legalizing his rank as noble above any other being in the empire excepting the emperor and his daughters. This had suited Yoichi, and to spare his half-sisters the shame of addressing a bastard as an equal, he had suggested they simply call one another cousin.
“What are you doing up here?” Koida asked.
“Ah...” A slight discomfort twisted Yoichi’s beautiful features. “That might be a conversation for a more...worldly woman than yourself, little cousin.”
“I’m worldly.” As she said it, she realized that the declaration made her sound even more childish than if she’d kept her mouth shut. But Cousin Yoichi was in his early twenties and always seemed to be up to something interesting. Whenever he was around, she wanted to impress him so that he would let her in on the secret.
Yoichi faltered. “Don’t tell your father that you saw me here or that I told you why I came. He’ll hang me for corrupting your innocence.”
“I swear,” Koida promised. “Not a word.”
“Sometimes men—” He cast around for the words. “—visit with women...alone...”
“Cousin, I am not a child. I know what intercourse is.” There were plenty of scrolls in the royal library explaining how it was done and giving tips on making the experience more enjoyable.
Yoichi’s pale eyebrows arched toward his shaggy white hair. Then a grin broke out on his face.
“Little cousin is already planning her harem,” he teased. They both knew that unless Shingti abdicated the throne, Koida would never be the empress and have no right to a harem. “Fine, if you know so much, then you know the consequences a careless night can have?”
Koida nodded. “Pregnancy.”
“But there are ways to prevent that.” He produced a stone phial from his sleeve. “I’m taking precautions to ensure there will be no more bastards born into our family line. Not by me, in any case.”
“Oh.” Koida’s face colored as she realized the significance this precaution would have for one such as Yoichi. She pressed a closed fist to her heartcenter and gave a remorseful bow. “Apologies, elder cousin. Your little cousin should not have pried.”
“It is nothing,” Yoichi returned easily. The phial disappeared back into his robes. “What force caused you to brave the stink of the Eastern tower today?”
“I bruised my knuckles training,” Koida explained, pushing back her sleeve to reveal the pungent green salve soaking into the back of her hand.
“Training?” Yoichi glanced down at her martial attire as if just then seeing it. “I would have expected you to spend this morning dressing for court.”
“Court?” Koida canted her head. “Today? But Father and Shingti are still on campaign.”
“No one told you? A messenger came in during the night. The Wungs surrendered. Emperor Hao and the first princess will return home this evening.”
Chapter Two
PRESENT
The last cascade of tiny bells was pinned to Koida’s elaborate hair dressing just as the war horns became audible. The sound meant her father and his entourage were passing through Boking Iri, the empire’s capital city, just down the Horned Serpent River from the Sun Palace.
Koida clutched her blood-orange shoulder wrap with one hand and the hem of her blue-green silk robes with the other as she sprinted from her residence. The bell cascades were meant to stay silent, proof of her impeccable poise and grace, but they jangled like a troupe of dancers at her father’s yearly birth celebration as she ran through the corridors.
In the north gallery of the palace, just inside the doorway to the main courtyard, Koida slid to a halt, stilled the ringing bells in her hair, smoothed her train and sleeves, and slowed her heaving breath. Composed but for a slight flush in her cheeks, she stepped out into the courtyard.
Most of the nobility already lined the golden stairs and were watching the massive gates that stood open to the north. Their finery painted the courtyard in the bright colors of a lush garden.
Near the top of the stairs, as befit his bestowed station, Yoichi stood with his hands tucked into plum-colored robes that matched his eyes. He, too, had changed clothing since their meeting in the tower that morning, though it looked as if his change had been much less rushed. He nodded to her, then adjusted the left shoulder of his robe meaningfully.
Koida hurried to pull the slipping wrap back onto her bare shoulders. Yoichi smiled his wry smile and returned his attention to the gates.
Outside the palace gates, a raucous cheer went up, and the war horns blasted another growling bass note that echoed through the valley. In the distance, Koida could see a great throng of riders, the blood-orange Shyong San banners fluttering overhead. Though she’d seen the same sight many times since birth, her heart leapt. Somewhere near the front of that churning mass of horses and soldier
s were her father and sister. They were finally home again.
As the entourage approached the palace, Koida raised her arms in the ceremonial return greeting pose—chin high, eyes forward, elbows away from her sides, palms open to receive her emperor and his armies back into their home.
The bannermen rode through the gates first, followed by the horn bearers. Mounted soldiers came next and pulled up on either side of the gate, creating an equine tunnel.
When Koida caught sight of her sister’s personal guard, all wearing Shingti’s Green Dragonfly armor, she had to fight to keep the grin from her lips.
Shingti galloped in behind them to the deafening cheers of noble, soldier, and servant alike. The first princess was powerful and strong, the youngest Master of the Path of the Living Blade in nearly a century, and beloved by all her subjects for the honor she brought to the empire. Her long brown hair whipped over her shoulder, and her purple eyes flashed as she wheeled her half-demon destrier and reared him up onto his back legs. Like the mounted soldiers, Shingti and her Dragonfly Guard lined both sides of the courtyard, completing the tunnel to the palace stairs.
The Emperor’s Guard trotted into the courtyard next, their blood-orange plumage shifting in the breeze. The men dismounted and dropped to their knees. With equal pageantry, their warhorses—trimmed in blood-orange tack and bearing the emperor’s crest—each bent a front leg and lowered their long heads toward the ground.
Last of all, in the position of greatest honor, Emperor Hao rode in on his aging chestnut destrier, another half-demon hybrid. His blood-orange armor glinted fire in the sunset as he walked his horse up to the steps.
Koida brought her palms together and bowed to her father, keeping her head motionless to avoid ringing the cascades of bells.
“Exalted Emperor,” she intoned, her voice ringing off the walls, “the Sun Palace welcomes you into its embrace. May your mighty Ro fill its halls with glory once more.”
“Daughter, you have kept the palace alive in my absence.”
With a thrust of his gauntleted fist, Emperor Hao manifested a glistening ruby scepter crowned with wicked spikes and extended it to Koida. She rose from the formal pose at his invitation, her part in the ceremony complete.
Emperor Hao turned his horse to face the gathered crowd. “After a brave fight on the field of battle, the Wung tribe honorably surrendered! We feast this night in celebration of the enlightenment and peace the Shyong San Empire has brought to a new tribe!”
Nearly everyone in the courtyard cheered. Several of the soldiers threw their helmets into the air, Shingti included.
As the return ceremony ended, palace servants scurried inside to finish preparations for the feast, commoners hurried back to Boking Iri and the surrounding farms to recount the story to their families, and weary soldiers either started their trips home or dismounted and led their horses to the stables. Nobles pressed forward to the emperor and first princess, all attempting to offer the first and most elaborate congratulations.
Koida slipped back into the palace. She wanted to talk to her sister and father, but she would never get near them in the swarm. She would greet them privately when their attentions were undivided.
Chapter Three
PRESENT
Before the feast could begin, the customary signing of the Book of the Empire had to be completed. The chieftain and a small group of representatives from the Wungs came before the raised White Jade Dais, where the emperor’s royal table presided, and carved their seal into a steelwood panel. This minor act officially ended the enmity between all Wung villages and the empire, recognized all tribal territory as falling within the empire’s borders, and pledged a tithe of crops and tribute of soldiers from each of their villages. As the commander of the Imperial Army and the empire’s greatest known Master of the Living Blades, Shingti accepted the finished panel and added it to the Book, clamping the thick rings that bound it back into place.
“Brave warriors of the Wung tribe,” the first princess said in a proud, clear voice that filled the feasting hall, “be welcomed by your new brothers and sisters.”
Koida sat at her father’s left hand, watching this formality unfold. Like most of the envoys from the peoples her father and sister had subjugated and united, the Wungs seemed a combination of sullen and terrified. Not long ago, Yoichi had confided in Koida that on his travels, he’d heard barbarian tribes claim that Emperor Hao was a cannibal who ate his enemies’ heartcenters in arcane ceremonies designed to multiply the strength of his Ro. When she asked Yoichi whether that would work, Yoichi had laughed and said not to try it, for “the human heart carries diseases worse than all other organs combined.”
Once the official business was complete, the music, feasting, and drinking started, and the Wung delegation began to relax. They clumped together around a far table near the corner of the hall, talking amongst themselves and glaring at any noble or official who strayed too close. They didn’t turn down any of the Sun Palace’s famous blood orange wine, however.
Shingti handed off the Book to an official and began to make her way back to the dais, but group after group of courtiers stopped her. Now that the first princess was back in the castle, everyone wanted her ear, but Shingti brushed them aside easily in favor of drinking with her guard.
Servants bowed up the dais to fill the plate and cup of the emperor, then Koida’s. One discreetly removed Shingti’s place setting and bowed back down the stairs to find where the first princess had landed.
Until the emperor’s meal was finished, it was forbidden to approach the dais without being summoned, which meant Koida had him to herself for the time being.
“Your daughter is glad you’re home, Father,” she said, switching from the formal tones she’d used during the return ceremony to the loving familial speech. She leaned over and pecked his cheek.
This close and without the blood-orange armor covering most of his face and body, her father’s age showed in the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, the thick wine-barrel belly, and his graying beard and warrior’s knot. These signs of passing time caused Koida no distress, however. For as long as she could remember, her father’s hair had been graying, but the gray had never quite been able to overpower the black. The vigor in his purple eyes and the power in his weapon techniques were all one needed to see to know this man would outlast the Horned Serpent River itself.
“Your father is glad to rest his old bones and see his youngest child again.” Emperor Hao squeezed Koida’s hand, then patted it roughly. “She seems to have grown even more beautiful while I was away.”
Koida suppressed a wince. The linctus the alchemist had spread on her knuckles that morning had worn off, and she hadn’t had time to reapply the gritty green gel in her rush to dress for the return ceremony.
A boisterous laugh went up from the crowd below. Shingti at the center of her Dragonfly Guard. The first princess elbowed one hugely muscled guard in the side and said something, then pretended to preen and admire her reflection in a cup of wine. This sent the rest of them into fits while the offended party shook his fist at her. He, too, was smiling, however. It was clear these men saw Shingti as one of their own rather than as a fragile ward as Koida’s guard saw her.
“I’ve been keeping up with my training,” Koida told her father, wanting him to approve and simultaneously feeling small and stupid for trying to curry his favor. “I nearly landed a backfist on Master Lao this morning.”
The emperor took a long sip of wine. “That’s good, daughter, but have you given any further consideration to what Eunuch Ba-Qu said? I would rather my child leave off the studies of the Path than have her harmed trying to strain toward an advancement she can never achieve.”
Koida tugged her sleeve down farther over her bruised knuckles. “But even if I can never advance, learning the techniques—”
“Aha!” Emperor Hao clapped his hands together with delight. “The poets are starting!”
Fighting hard not to show th
e twinge of bitterness at his dismissal of her, Koida fell silent as the lanterns around the room were dimmed and a single bright light shined on a set of opaque shades at the far end of the room. Her father often did this when she disagreed with him, changing the subject and then pretending he couldn’t hear her appeals. Arguing further would accomplish nothing but to make him sullen and spiteful. Resigned, Koida took a deep drink of her wine and watched a performer take his place behind the shade.
The next hour went to the court’s poets and the shadow actors as they recounted the most harrowing tales from Emperor Hao’s Heroic Record. After this came the Record of Shingti, Dragonfly of the Battlefield, followed by the account of the Wandering Hero, Cousin Yoichi.
Wedged between the sagas of the valiant offspring the Exalted Emperor had produced was a short song called the Beauty of Koida, Lilac of the Valley, a polite attempt at pretending that she had contributed anything useful to the mighty warrior dynasty.
Koida wished they would have forgotten her altogether.
Chapter Four
PRESENT
The feast carried on well into the night, as the return celebrations often did. When the hard wine was brought out, Emperor Hao announced that he would retire, which allowed Koida to slip away as well. Though her father had given little indication through the night that he noticed Koida’s presence, it was still offensive to leave before the emperor did.
The moment she arose from her seat, Koida’s personal guard sidled away from the conversations and dances they were engaged in and followed her out of the hall.
“Had enough celebration?” Batsai asked.
She smiled up at him. “I miss the quiet of an empty palace.”
“You would make a good soldier’s wife,” he teased. “Pine for him until he comes home, then wish he would get back to war already.”
