Jin slipped inside and listened silently for a few minutes, appreciating the artistry of her two disciples. They played a love song, the two flutes calling to each other before their sweet voices mingled. Jin’s throat tightened, and she wondered why she had not asked to break the betrothal.
Hadn’t she wished and wished for a way out of it? Her father had been sincere in his offer, she knew... and yet, she had also sensed his reluctance, his hope that she would not accept. He wanted this alliance, a permanent tie to the Night and Moon deities, a blood connection to his oldest supporters. And it’s not just Papa who wants it, she reminded herself. Neela had orchestrated the whole betrothal. She had often told Jin that nothing would make her happier than to see her and Xiao wed. She had even spoken of their hypothetical children.
And Xiao had always spoken of their eventual marriage with certainty. Surely he wasn’t in love with her, but it would hurt him badly if she jilted him the night of their betrothal ceremony.
It was only Jin who had reservations. She didn’t love Xiao – well, no, she did love him, but she was not in love with him. After the ceremony, it would be a mere year until they were wed, and Jin sent to live at New Moon Manor. The rest of her life would be prescribed by her in-laws, before she even figured out what she wanted from it. She did not know what her passions were; she had never fallen in love or had her heart broken; she didn’t even know who she was.
As the song ended, Jin shook off the self-pity. She moved forward to greet her disciples, a smile on her face.
“That was beautiful, Luye, Yeppeun. Your interpretation has gained nuance – another dozen years and you’ll be ready to perform in the Sun Court.”
Yeppeun, who had been the first mortal worshipper of Jin before she had contracted a fatal illness at the age of twenty, beamed at the praise. “Thank you, divinity.”
Luye, a minor immortal whose parents had intended for her to be a concubine to the Sun Emperor and had become Jin’s disciple to avoid that fate, grimaced. “Oh, be still my heart, my greatest dream fulfilled.” Jin laughed at her dry tone, as Yeppeun began to scold her junior.
“I think,” said Jin, “it is time to get dressed for the ceremony.”
Both ladies leapt to their feet and ushered Jin through her garden to the largest structure. Each side featured intricately carved cedar sliding panels. Currently they were arranged to maximize the flow of the fresh spring air through the building.
Stepping inside was like taking a tour of Jin’s childhood, at least the three thousand years she had travelled with her grandmother. The interior of each sliding panel was covered in gold-leaf and featured paintings in the style of the Crescent Moon master with whom Jin had trained for thirty years. A low table in the center of the room was for both writing and eating; it was made with rare blonde wood from Zhongtu and surrounded by colorful cushions made of scraps and contrasting embroidery that Jin had sewn with a housewife in Jeevanti. The large bed she had commissioned when her father had summoned her to live in the Sun Palace was also of blonde wood, and its canopy was hung with variegated silks the colors of peaches. These she had embroidered whenever her grandmother had confined her to the caravan; the traditions ranged from the lush flowers favored in Bando to the spare, even diamonds from Land of Winter.
Although the room featured mostly warm colors, elaborate blue robes were displayed on a mannequin by Jin’s full-length mirror. She had had difficulty deciding what to wear tonight, but in the end had settled on Xiao’s favorite color. At least NeeNee will approve, she thought. Having spent three thousand years living in Neela’s blue-drenched caravan, Jin almost never chose the color for her clothes or her art. This was both – with Luye and Yeppeun’s aid, she had sewn and embroidered it over the past ten years.
Jin didn’t dislike the robes precisely; they just weren’t her taste. But she had felt that was the point. She was showing her willingness to make a successful marriage by putting Xiao’s preferences first. As Luye and Yeppeun helped her strip, Jin wondered what Xiao would wear.
When she was naked, her disciples gave her a sponge bath that smelled faintly of jasmine. Jin closed her eyes and meditated while they did so. Yeppeun, who had once been a king’s favored courtesan, had insisted that she and later Luye serve Jin as handmaidens. Jin had agreed because it had pleased Yeppeun, but she still secretly preferred to wash herself. After being briskly dried with strips of cotton, Jin applied a few drops of oil to her neck and wrists that Yeppeun had mixed for her – a delicate combination of jasmine and orange blossom.
From a chest of sandalwood drawers, Luye fetched some white silk underpants; they were gathered at Jin’s waist then hung loose the length of her leg until being tied around her ankle. Yeppeun selected a rich coral breast cover, dominated by the character for happiness embroidered in gold thread.
“Oh, no, Yeppeun, it will clash!” protested Jin.
Yeppeun arched a brow. “A lady’s undergarments are for her,” Yeppeun scolded. “Unless you planned to show them to someone this evening?”
Jin flushed. “Very well then.”
As Yeppeun held the garment in place, Luye secured it around her neck with a delicate gold chain with round clasps impressed with chrysanthemums. Once they were content with how it hung, the neckline just above Jin’s cleavage, Luye tied the strings in back so that it lay close to Jin’s skin; the triangular front just reached her belly button.
Next came Jin’s undershirt, a deep blue silk so thin as to be sheer. Jin held her arms out as they slipped it on, and the long sleeves just brushed the floor, displaying embroidered constellations and starbursts in white and silver. The body of the garment did not fully close in front and only reached her knees. Luye and Yeppeun quickly knotted its ties to hold it close to her torso. They secured a long white silk skirt shot with silver about her waist then added a silver corset that covered her torso. Overall of this went a sleeveless robe of sky-blue silk with a stiff silver collar that emphasized Jin’s elegant neck. It was cinched at her waist with a wide, deep blue belt beaded with silver and lapis lazuli. Strands of hollow beads dangled from it so that in addition to the rustle of silk, her walk was accompanied by a delicate chiming.
“Come, divinity,” said Luye, “We are finished with your robes. Sit while we arrange your hair.”
While they combed and tugged, Jin slipped on rings of white jade and lapis lazuli. She then stroked each fingernail gently, adjusting their length and polishing them to a beautiful nacre.
“We’re done,” declared Yeppeun, but Luye said “Wait! Divinity, your brother, the God of Destruction, sent this earlier.” Luye offered Jin a red and black lacquer box. Jin opened to find a lapis crescent moon on a silver chain.
She smiled. “Which of you showed him my outfit?”
“I did,” Luye confessed.
“Thank you,” said Jin and donned the necklace. She stroked the smooth stone of the moon pendant for a moment. She was lucky to have a brother like Karana.
Jin rose and walked to the full-length mirror. Luye and Yeppeun had swept up her hair and then made two large loops entwined with a pearl and lapis lazuli chain which encircled her ears. On the top of her head, a large bun was enclosed in a silver cuff with more pearls and it was stabbed by a long silver hair stick with a lapis bead cluster on the end. Two smaller loops of hair nestled to either side.
Her face was fully exposed by the style, and free of any paint, as would be expected by the court who considered her allegedly perfect features evidence of her divinity.
“It’s a work of art, divinity,” Luye told her, while Yeppeun beamed silently.
Jin fought a smile before grinning. Just as she started to strike a pose, Yeppeun jumped backward with an “Eeeeah!”
Jin spun and found Xiao sitting on her bed. He wore nothing but worse-for-wear underpants, and an unknown woman wrapped in a rather disgusting blanket was tucked under his arm.
“Luye, Yeppeun, please leave us,” directed Jin.
/>
The two disciples scurried away.
The bundled woman was a rather hostile mixture of jealousy and pity, so Jin addressed Xiao first.
“I don’t think you’ve taken advantage of my open invitation since you ate those mushrooms,” Jin observed. Jin would hardly allow just anyone to teleport into her private residence, but she trusted Xiao with both her life and her privacy. This was the first time he’d brought someone else along.
“I didn’t eat anything strange, though I don’t blame you for thinking of that. I need your help confining this woman, Jin.”
“What’s her crime?”
“Kidnapping. She’s been holding me against my will for the last four days.”
Jin frowned. “Is this like the time–”
“No,” Xiao hurriedly put in, “though I don’t blame you for thinking of that either. Let me introduce you. Jin, meet Nanami the Thief, castoff daughter of the Sea Dragon. Nanami, meet Jin, my almost betrothed, the Goddess of Beauty.” Nanami suddenly looked quite pale, and her hostility faded.
“Yes, exactly,” Xiao said smugly at the change in her demeanor.
“Exactly what?” demanded Jin, starting to feel rather irritated with the whole situation.
“Nanami claims that your father hired her to steal my Infinite Jug–”
“Fate laughs at us, but are you sober, Xiao?”
“I – yes, but that is not the point–”
“I think it’s relevant,” objected Jin. “Did you steal the Jug?” she asked Nanami.
The other woman smiled. “Yes. And put it where it will never see daylight again.”
Jin grinned. “That’s wonderful. But not enough to make Xiao sober.”
“No, I realized. So I kidnapped him and kept him in a cage to get all the toxins out of his systems – your father – er, the man who hired me wished for him to be sober.” Nanami’s eyes skittered away at the last.
“The relevant bit here, Jin,” interjected Xiao, “is we all know very well that it wasn’t the Sun Emperor who hired Nanami. So who did, and why was he interfering in our betrothal?”
“I don’t see how it matters – he obviously was looking after my interests.”
Xiao sputtered. “You don’t know that. Maybe being sober–”
“- means you won’t step on my feet during the ceremony? Or pull my hair ornaments out? Or vomit on my dress? Or pass out during dinner?”
“Oh, I’m not that bad.”
Jin arched a brow. “Xiao, you’re my oldest friend, but you are, quite frankly, ruining the beauty in you with alcohol.” Jin tapped the corner of one eye. “I promise, this I know.”
Jin approached the bed and smiled at Nanami. “The way I see it, I owe you a favor.” She looked at Xiao. “I really think you ought to free her from that trap you’ve wrapped her in.”
Xiao pouted. “Well, I don’t. And I don’t see that there’s anything you can do about it.”
Jin sniffed. “That rag is really quite hideously ugly, don’t you think?” She touched it, and the yellowish cloth became a golden brocade featuring swirling clouds. The black smears – ink? – became embroidered brown nuts accompanied by sprays of pink flowers. Xiao’s spell was broken. “You wrote this with chestnuts?” Jin asked.
“What on Earth do you think you’re doing?” roared Xiao, as Nanami began to laugh.
“But we aren’t on Earth,” Jin pointed out. “We’re in the Heavens. Making that rag pretty didn’t ruin anything for you, did it? Now, Xiao, why don’t you run along? We still have a few minutes before the ceremony – if you hurry, Luye and Yeppeun might be able to find you some clothes.”
“You–”
“You know how the Sun Emperor abhors lateness,” Jin pointed out. “And if he can’t burn the alcohol from your blood, he might burn something else. Papa has quite the temper.”
Xiao shook his head fiercely, then hurried from the room.
“That was masterful,” Nanami managed as her laughter faded. “I was feeling quite bad for you, having to marry him, but I now see you’ll be just fine.”
Jin smiled. She was tempted to point out that pity wasn’t all Nanami had been feeling, but that was too impolitic. “Xiao was born one day before me. He might be the person I know best in this world.”
“But you’re not in love with him?” Nanami asked.
“No. We’re too different. You see, we’re both considered useless gods, but I spend all my time trying to disprove that label, while Xiao spends all of his trying to fulfill it.” Jin sat next to Nanami and held one of her hands. “I would very much appreciate it if you were willing to stay until after the ceremony so we could talk. I’d like to know more about who hired you – although I teased Xiao, it worries me that someone interfered. I want to know why.”
“He meant well,” Nanami said. “I can only be summoned by those of good-intent.”
Jin smiled faintly. “There’s another reason I’d like you to stay. I have the feeling we could be good friends.”
Nanami’s lips parted in surprise, but then she smiled. “Very well. I’ll stay.”
XIAO stood next to Jin just below the first step of the Sun Court’s Reception Hall. Though Jin’s disciples had managed to find him clothes, Xiao knew that he looked like a poor relation next to Jin. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy about it, which he hated. If this betrothal were truly about Jin and him, it wouldn’t bother him in the least – despite being the Goddess of Beauty, Jin was the least superficial person he knew. (Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say because she was the Goddess of Beauty – Jin often argued that visible beauty was the least compelling).
But this betrothal was not about them – it was about their parents. The Sun Emperor cared a great deal about appearances, as evidenced by the massive, violently red edifice at their backs. The memory of his own blood heating past bearing, so hot that Xiao thought he had died, made his gut clench in dread. As for Xiao’s own parents... they were unpredictable. Mostly they ignored him, but when they chose to pay attention...
His mother had always orchestrated elaborate parties with thousands of guests on Xiao’s centennial birthdays. Jin was often the only guest who came for him, and there was nothing about the parties that had been designed for Xiao. One year, when Xiao was still a child, less than two thousand years old, he and Jin had found a large cache of fireworks among “his” presents. Gleeful and foolish, the two of them had smuggled the fireworks away to the back courtyard of New Moon Manor. They had set them off with great delight, totally oblivious to the fact that the vibrant sparks and rich booms would be evident to the party they’d left behind. Unfortunately, Zi, the Moon Goddess had been in the middle of a speech when the ruckus began. Xiao had spent the next year locked in his bedroom without food or drink.
Xiao’s hands quivered involuntarily at the memory, and he yearned for the cup of sweet rice wine that Luye had gone to fetch for him – unfortunately, Jin had dragged him to the hall before the handmaiden returned. He half-turned, thinking perhaps there was still time to fetch it before the first guests arrived. Jin’s hand slipped through his, and she gave it a reassuring squeeze.
He met her eyes, and she bowed her head slightly toward the South Gate. Xiao looked, and sure enough, guests were now streaming through it and down the cherry lane to them. Compared to the delicate pink cherry blossoms, the guests were a cacophony of vibrant silks with elaborate embroideries and headdresses that crossed the line into absurdity. From behind them, playful music grated on Xiao’s nerves; a guzheng and a pipa chased the sound of the dizi flute in a mockery of courtship.
“You would look quite dashing, if you would just smile and show those famous dimples,” Jin murmured to him.
“If you wanted me to smile, you shouldn’t have let the thief slip through our fingers.” Even to his own ears, Xiao sounded petulant. He touched the small dark ring around his left pinky – it was a lock of Nanami’s hair that neither she nor Jin had seen him t
ake. With it, he should be able to track her anywhere. Reassured that he could still find the thief, he softened his tone to add, “You are being naive to think whoever hired her doesn’t pose a threat. If he could convince her he was your father, who else knows what he lied about? We should have brought her to the celebration to see if she recognized her client.”
“If he is here, I don’t want him to know. But Xiao, do you really think I’d let the first woman who stirred your over-sexed heart just leave?”
Xiao flushed. “She didn’t–” He finished processing what Jin had said and forgot to object. “Wait, is she still here?” His nerves settled some, forcing Xiao to admit that some of his turmoil was from the worry that he might not be able to find Nanami. Which wasn’t because she’d “stirred his heart.” She had put him in a cage, locked him up, the way his parents did when they were irritated with him. She didn’t get to just walk away.
Jin was speaking. “She promised to wait for me – and I didn’t actually lift the teleportation ban for her. You’d think that the God of Pleasure would understand that honey makes finer bait than vinegar.”
“It’s mostly sexual pleasure,” Xiao said, as he thought about what to ask Nanami.
“Don’t I get any gratitude?”
Xiao smiled at last, his attention returning to her. “Jin, you are, and always will be, my best friend.”
She smiled back.
The first of the guests reached them, bestowing congratulations and gifts, the latter of which were swiftly carried away by lesser immortals who served the imperial family. The parade of felicitations finished after two hours, and Xiao and Jin were summoned into the hall itself, making them the last to enter. The large hall was full of low lacquer tables practically groaning with dishes, but a clear path had been left from the entrance steps to the Sun Throne, where the emperor sat.
To his left was the empress, the Goddess of Flight, a very pretty woman who had just reached her tenth millennia and who seemed as thoughtless as the bird she had been. Xiao doubted that she would have achieved divinity if Aka hadn’t settled on her for a wife. Next to her was her son and Jin’s half-brother, Guleum, the God of Wind. His round face on his scrawny neck reminded Xiao of a dandelion puff on its stalk. He might live up to his mother’s beauty when he reached adulthood, but for now he had all the awkwardness of early puberty. Xiao met his eyes and winked; Guleum smiled and sat a little straighter.
Vows of Gold and Laughter (The Immortal Beings Book 1) Page 6
