Chapter Fifteen
Ione
The mirror clouded over, the breath Ione had been holding fogging up the glass.
Restraining a frustrated groan, Ione wiped it clean, held her breath and squinted at her reflection, at the tiny brush dusted with gold.
River had always done her makeup for her, his eyesight better and patience far deeper; after him, Lina, a steady hand holding Ione’s face still as she skilfully painted her lips and eyelids.
Loneliness carved out her stomach. And how funny it was, to feel so lonely on her wedding night.
Her attention caught on a flurry of movement behind her in the mirror. Cynthia sidled up beside her, her stable presence almost bringing tears to Ione’s eyes.
More so when Cynthia said, “Let me help.”
Ione released her breath, startled. “You don’t have to.” She glanced at herself in the mirror, muddled once more with fog, and sighed. “I’ve… got it.”
“You’ve been fogging and un-fogging that mirror for half an hour.”
“It’s hard.”
Rather bravely, Cynthia pushed Ione to sit on the velvet stool and liberated the brush from her. Left without much choice, Ione closed her eyes and tilted her face to the light, letting Cynthia line her eyes with gold, darken her eyelashes, dust her cheekbones with pearl powder.
“Thank you,” Ione murmured as Cynthia painted a tiny golden moon between her brows. A waxing crescent, the symbol of a young bride. “I know you don’t exactly support this.”
Cynthia stepped back, surveyed her work.
“But I understand it. And I won’t be an infant about it and let you go through this alone.
” She washed the brushes and filed everything into their places at the vanity.
“Anyway,” she added pragmatically, “marriages can be dissolved, and husbands can be poisoned. I’ve been reading about it. You know, in case.”
Ione bit back a smile, relatively certain she was joking. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The outer door to her family’s suite opened; Ione listened, relaxing to hear the heavy saunter she had grown so accustomed to. “Come in, Kai,” she called before Kai could knock on her bedroom door.
“It’s creepy how you can tell who people are by their footsteps,” he said, letting himself in.
She pretended to still be preening before the mirror, although all she needed now was her veil. “And it’s bad luck for you to see me before the ceremony.”
“I don’t believe in that.” He stopped just behind her, calloused hands hot on her shoulders. “Can we have a moment?” he asked Cynthia.
“It’s all right, Cynthia,” Ione said when she hesitated. “He doesn’t believe in luck, which is one thing this union sorely needs.”
Cynthia peered up at him, sceptical. “Drink some water before you head downstairs,” she said to Kai, pausing to touch the back of Ione’s hand before she withdrew.
The door shut with a metallic click, reverberating in the twilit quiet of her bedroom.
Ione sucked in a breath and stood, faced him.
Studied him, let him study her. Wordlessly he reached behind her for her veil, a floor-length swathe of gossamer lined with crystals like beads of dew; with startling gentleness he pinned it to her hair and folded it behind her so it did not obscure her vision.
As always, he dressed well, tonight in a mix of northern and southern styles: a moon-white swallowtail coat with full sleeves gathered at his wrists.
Ione traced the embroidered waves lining his lapel, the three earrings shaped like teardrops, the thin silver chain connecting one to a ring in his nose.
“Ah, that,” Kai said of the chain: “It’s something we wear for special occasions. I don’t, normally, but – ” He looked away, bashful. “ – for tonight, I thought it would… suit.”
This close, Ione registered why Cynthia had told him to drink some water. “You reek,” she chided him, and Kai laughed.
“That’s what every man likes to hear,” he retorted genially. “Nalu – my favourite brother, after all – gifted me a bottle of verdure for the occasion, which was shocking enough that it warranted testing for poison.” He shrugged. “So far so good. Guess he got over the last fight.”
Ione winced. Unfortunately Etan and Nalu had received glowing invitations from Saros. “Will your mother be here as well?”
He shook his head, though he still smiled, resigned.
“Tobacco will be cured and ready to ship out to her buyers, and it’s the height of tuna season.
Far be it from me to distract her from making an easy handful of coins.
” Kai rooted through his pocket and produced a piece of parchment. “She replied to my letter, anyhow.”
Ione squinted at the spidery handwriting. “‘I’m under no illusions that you are writing to suddenly profess your undying affections for the poor girl,’ – Oh, thank you, Admiral – ‘but your father married me for money and I married him for adventure, and somehow even we found love.’”
Kai snorted. “That’s as close to a blessing as we could hope for. She’s a tender woman, her.”
A twinge of sadness coursed through her. “At least one of our mothers has offered any blessing.” She ran her fingers across the silky parchment; at the bottom, Admiral Malia had written, Enclosed is the gift you requested.
Kai opened his hand, let a delicate silver chain dangle from his fingertips. A small grey pendant hung at its end – not just grey, Ione realised, pulling it closer to her: an iridescent swirl of grey and blue, pink and green. She smiled, and he did, too. Relieved.
“Abalone,” he said, fastening it about her throat. “Da used to dive for it, carve the shells into jewellery for Mam. I asked if she wouldn’t mind parting with one.”
Ione touched the pendant, warm against her chilled skin, the only spot of colour on her.
She’d chosen her dress on her own, delicate lace designed to look like hoarfrost clinging to her form, a high slit and plunging neckline as daring as it was queenly.
It was not at all the virginal confection of tulle her mother had envisioned her wearing – a fact that Penina was very vocal about – but at least Ione had selected it herself.
She was forever a disappointment, but her decisions were hers and hers alone.
Kai brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Lingered, drawing his thumb over her pearl earring, the curve of her jaw. “For what it’s worth,” he murmured, “you look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Ione whispered, although she felt more like a ghost than a bride.
She liked Kai. Trusted him, somehow. But he wasn’t who she wanted, and she knew well enough that she wasn’t what he’d wanted, either. If we can, he had said once, early on during Saros’s near-painful wedding planning, I’d like us to be friends.
She’d like that too, she had said. And she’d meant it, even after he felt compelled to add, You know, with, uh, benefits.
He escorted her downstairs to Oseidos’s stateroom, a cavernous hall usually reserved for ceremonies.
It swelled with music and people and noise, everything dappled with light cast from a thousand lanterns shaped like moons and stars hanging overhead.
Ione felt herself shrinking back, overwhelmed, until Kai directed her towards an acolyte bearing a tray.
“I’d say we’ll both need it,” he said, thrusting a glass of sparkling wine into her hands before taking one for himself and necking it.
The wine both buoyed and muddled her, making the noise bearable, the countless smiles and greetings and pecks on her cheek tolerable.
By contrast Kai was brought to life after a couple of glasses, skilfully taking over conversations when Ione grew tired, his hand steady on her back as he chatted and joked and made connections with swooning high priests.
Dozens of voices approached, congratulated them; some familiar, some not.
River’s parents, stiff and brusque and all but confirming their inner hopes that their son would court Menon; Mikau, with Ami on their arm, both offering polite if confused well-wishes.
Saros’s sycophants and distant relatives and visitors from other shrines filtered through in an endless stream, all allowed through the ward for the evening to celebrate the happy couple.
“The mainlanders can’t stop talking about it,” one of River’s cousins chattered, grasping Ione’s hand while, behind her, Kai acted like he already captained his own fleet to a couple of investors from Polaros.
“So much for Caelos’s grand refurbishment being the talk of the season,” a young Caelosi acolyte practically gushed. “You must visit us, Lady Ione – perhaps for your honeymoon?”
Ione hadn’t even thought that far, but Kai, hearing them, wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “We’ll go south first,” he announced, an empty wineglass dangling precariously between his fingers. “I’ve some men to recruit.”
“With your shiny new wife,” Ione said, although without much bite. She was exhausted.
“Oh, aye.” He pressed a sticky kiss to her temple. “Menon’s blessing is instrumental.”
River’s cousin and the Caelosi restrained a dreamy sigh, delighted and enchanted and utterly clueless. House Artem’s only daughter, marrying the infamous Mahina clan’s youngest son! As scandalous as it was romantic.
She felt alone, even surrounded by people, even with Kai’s hand on her shoulder, her back, lower.
River was nowhere in sight, an act of boycott; her parents remained at the edges of the room, not seen but sensed, their disapproval palpable.
Even Saros disappeared after a greeting and congratulations towards Kai and Kai only, so quick and uncomfortable that Kai had muttered to Ione after, “What the hell’s his problem with you, again? ”
With the introductions and first few rounds of drinks over, Ione was whisked to the place of honour, a loveseat carved to look like an enormous fan of coral that skidded back when Kai all but fell into it beside her.
The officiant’s words buzzed in and out of Ione’s ears, and the hundreds of eyes around them felt like spider’s legs on her skin, expectant, smiling, nauseating.