Chapter Forty Kasu
In the END, Kasu was able to spare the carp from a grisly fate.
Out of fear that Ruo would slip away again and actually succeed in eating everything in the courtyard pond, the maids sent someone down to the kitchens and brought meat for the hungry curse.
There were no eyeballs, but Ruo seemed content to gnaw at the bones of a roast duck.
Once breakfast was over, they toured the palace under the watchful eye of several scribes – Ruo bored, Kasu charmed, and Arun seemingly incapable of taking in any of the intricate architecture without comparing it to his father’s palace.
The heavens was its own kind of city, though instead of districts each of the major gods owned their own estate inhabited by minor gods and human servants. General Shusa’s estate was large enough to be its own village, complete with stables, military barracks and its very own peach orchard.
As the day progressed, Kasu was surprised to realize that it was getting darker.
Unlike the perpetual darkness of the under-realm, there was a proper day–night cycle in the heavens.
The sun was going down and Lady Moon was climbing her way up the sky.
When Kasu had imagined leaving the under-realm, she’d often thought of the sun – how good its warmth would feel against her skin – but she had not seen the moon for many years either.
She hoped she could stay up and stargaze.
The maids ushered them back into the dining hall for dinner, and then to their sleeping chambers – a lavish room richly furnished with deep mahogany bookcases filled to bursting with ancient texts, and wide beds covered in silk sheets and pillows of brocaded satin.
When Kasu sat on the edge of one of the beds, she almost tumbled back. It was so soft she feared she would sink into the mattress, never to be seen again.
“Not as soft as my old bed,” Arun said, only to annoy her.
Ruo jumped up and gave the sheets a disdainful sniff before curling up on the floor at the foot of Kasu’s bed. The maids knocked on their door once to inform them that spare clothes and separate baths had been drawn for them.
Kasu and Arun were ushered to opposite ends of the palace.
A pair of maids led Kasu to a large, circular room with a tiled seafoam-green floor and walls of cream stone.
There had been public baths in the under-realm, but they were few and far between.
A lot of demons did not particularly care for personal hygiene, and ghosts were often too busy for more than a weekly wash.
Kasu was somewhat mortified to realize that it had been a while since her last bath too.
She made sure to scrub thoroughly, working the bar of plum-scented soap into all the hard-to-reach places, before washing off the suds and soaking in the warm water.
When she and Ruo returned to their room, Arun was already there, dressed for bed in silks so fine they looked like they might slip off his body. He turned to look at her, his smile faltering for a moment as he took in the sight of her dress.
The gown the maids had given her was the colour of autumn leaves. It hung from her shoulders, a bright, vibrant gold slowly turning to red at the bottom. It was made of the same silk as whatever Arun was wearing and probably looked just as fancy. Kasu was sure it did not suit her.
“Are you not going to say the silks of your father’s palace were sleeker?” She wrapped her arms around her middle, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
Arun quickly turned around so that he was not facing her. “Too tired,” he muttered. “Are you going to sleep right now? I’ll snuff out the lanterns, if you are.”
Kasu was still too excited by everything she had seen to be exhausted, but she did not want to keep Arun up if he needed his rest. She murmured her assent and headed to bed.
Arun waited for her to slide beneath her sheets before he moved to the lamps placed around the room, blowing out each flame.
Kasu tried to get some rest, but the bed was too soft and her mind would not calm down.
Every time she felt slumber tug at her, she would remember where she was and what had happened to bring her here, and then she would be too full of thoughts to sleep.
Eventually, she gave up. Careful not to step on Ruo’s tails, she slipped out of bed.
First, she wandered to the bookcases. There were various texts – from poetry to historical accounts and instructional manuals on how to meditate.
Kasu flipped through a few, but it was too dark to read and she did not dare light a candle or a lamp for fear of waking the others.
Eventually, she drifted to the window and folded back the wooden shutters, allowing the soft starlight to fall into the room.
She sat on one end of the long cushioned bench beneath the window and propped her elbow on the sill where she could gaze up at the moon.
“Can’t sleep?”
Kasu turned to find Arun out of bed, standing in front of her.
The moonlight tangled in his hair, illuminating his face.
Her gaze travelled from his temple down the firm line of his nose, across the sweep of his dark eyes, to the sharp cut of his cheekbones.
She could not remember what her initial impression of him had been: if she had found him as handsome as she did now; if she had ever taken note of how soft his smile could be.
The distance between them felt as fragile as a house of cards. All it would take was the slightest twitch to collapse. Kasu turned back to face the moon.
“I’m just enjoying the view.”
Arun came and sat on the other end of the seat. “You could stay here, you know. If you asked, I’m sure General Shusa would let you.”
Kasu shook her head. The heavens were wonderful, but that was not her dream.
A small house on the edge of an apple orchard.
Someone to share her peace with.
“I’ve been meaning to ask: do you really not want to earn a place in the heavenly realm? Why devote yourself so much to the Heavenly Principles, otherwise? Was it really so you could impress the heavens and earn the right to be reborn?”
“Yes and no. I did want to impress them, but it’s more than that. The Heavenly Principles aren’t just about earning the favour of the gods or getting into the heavens – they’re a guide on how one should live their life.”
When she was a mortal, she had not obeyed the Heavenly Principles, and look where that had got her – a life of slow starvation, a dead sister, a mother who had abandoned her and a contract with a demon lord.
If she had just followed the Principles the first time, maybe she would not have suffered as much.
She might have died of starvation all the same, but at least she could have died nobly and with honour.
Mirroring her current position, Arun propped his elbow on the windowsill and rested his chin in his hand. In the perfect quiet of their room, they watched the moon move through the sky. Their knees were close enough to touch.
Her breath stuttered in her throat, but when she lifted her gaze to Arun’s face the look in his eye gave her pause.
He looked so glum.
“What’s wrong?”
Arun’s eyes darted across the room before settling on Kasu once more.
“Something’s been bothering me. About the way the Pale Lady died.
About my mother’s … about that wolf. Lady Camellia said that the Pale Lady wasn’t the one who told her about my mother, but then why did my mother use the last of her life force to curse the Pale Lady and not all the other demon lords who had a hand in her death?
And why go after the Pale Lady’s actors too? ”
Kasu remembered the Pale Lady’s death, and the way the wolf had shuddered and tried to stop itself from fading away. It had struck her as odd too, but so much had happened since, she’d barely had time to reflect.
“I don’t know,” she said, truthfully. “But the Pale Lady must have done something truly terrible to become the target of your mother’s hatred.”
Arun flinched. “I can’t stop thinking about her.
About my mother, I mean. Everyone we’ve met has called her a thief, but that’s not the person I knew.
That’s not— I just don’t know what to think any more.
I don’t know what to believe.” He sounded almost ashamed to admit it, but Kasu noticed the tears welling in his eyes. Tears he furiously tried to blink away.
Kasu placed her hands in her lap and kept them curled tight there for fear of doing something terrifying like reaching out to touch his face.
“People change. Don’t blame yourself.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Instead of being comforted, Arun only looked more troubled.
“She’s really gone, isn’t she?” he whispered.
Kasu stared at her lap, unable to find the right words. All she could do was sit and listen as his shuddering breaths gave way to sobs.
His misery burned worse than the elixir.
She scooted across the seat to sit closer to him, the line of her leg pressing against his own, and wrapped one arm around his shoulder, letting him lean in.
He was heavier than she expected, but she didn’t complain.
She wanted to take it all for him – the anguish, the pain.
She never wanted to see him so dejected again.
Kasu was not sure how long they remained there, huddled close together beneath the moon, before Arun lifted his head from her shoulder. He wiped his eyes one last time.
“Thanks. Sorry for—”
“Don’t apologize for feeling things.”
He smiled sheepishly, and Kasu’s heart did a series of aerobatic manoeuvres that left her excited and terrified in equal measure.
The Heavenly Principles had plenty to say about lust – how to avoid it, how to control it – but surprisingly little when it came to love or affection. They could not guide her when it came to the flutter beneath her breastbone or the little rabbit feet hopping inside her chest.
Kasu’s gaze slid up to Arun’s face once more only to find him looking at her too, his eyes red-rimmed and dark despite the abundance of moonlight that haloed them both.