Chapter 32
FOUR PLEDGES
It snowed the day of my wedding: sparse and scintillating, each flake a fleeting glimmer in the sun. If it had been another man I was marrying, I might have found it beautiful.
If it had been someone else, I might have jumped for joy when Wren and Teela came in with my wedding gown, heavy with azaleas and moon-season roses, or when Fern came bearing a shimmering headpiece that was crowded with leaves of polished gold.
When Aini came in with a phoenix shawl, so elaborate it must have taken a thousand days to embroider, I might have felt aflutter as I ran my fingers across its silk.
And maybe Aunt Ping would not have said, “Don’t frown so much, heh?
Unless you want wrinkles like me,” and would instead have told me to straighten my posture.
If it had been anyone but Terren, I would have laughed with delight when I saw just how extravagant my wedding was.
As they paraded my palanquin through the gates to Heavenly Square, I would have counted the lucky lanterns hanging from the balustrades, the banners across the pillars, the tasseled fortune lions with fearsome teeth dancing amidst the audience.
And the pots of smoking incense—emblazoned with flying dragons, filling the open square with the aroma of longevity and fortune—I would have counted them too.
But not the guests. There were too many of them. Thousands, at the very least, all bearing banners as they stood amidst red azalea petals, white snow.
My scribe, however, was laughing enough for the both of us. “I have never had such a good view of an imperial wedding!” Ciyi exclaimed, from where he marched beside my palanquin. “When Prince Maro wed Lady Song, I was only standing back there!” He pointed at a far corner of the square.
The square was surrounded by three terraces.
Envoys led me out of my palanquin and escorted me up the marble steps towards the portico of the Hall of Heavenly Supremacy.
On the bottom level sat the distinguished guests.
Clan leaders, relatives of the House, and renowned literomancers in black sat on the second.
On the highest, overlooking everything, sat the imperial family—the five princes and their entourages, Lady Song and the empress, the other East Palace concubines.
Both Jin Veris and Kang Rho nodded to me as I passed, but none of the others would look at me. I took my place next to the prince.
Had it been a different man I was marrying, I might have felt shy.
I might have been as giddy as a young girl as I tried to glimpse my new husband from behind my fan. A husband who would—well, not love me; I was not that greedy. A husband who would take me into his home and treat me kindly.
He would smile at me in the mornings. “I am off to work in the Administrative District now,” he’d say—because he would be at least a minor official, Ma wanted at least that for me—and then he would give me a polite and perfunctory kiss on the cheek.
“Please have dinner ready for me when I come home,” he would say, and then he would not cut me or torture me.
At least once a week, he would take me to the wet market, not far from our home in the heart of Guishan.
We would buy a head of cabbage, an inexpensive cut of pork, some flour.
“This week, I’ll make dumplings,” I would say, and his eyes would crinkle with delight.
Once a month, he would send money back to Ma and Ba, and Bao would be able to eat as many prunes and sweet things as he wanted.
When he got a bonus, it would go towards my brother’s tuition.
“I support him going to a good school wholeheartedly,” he’d say, because he would believe in the value of education.
“Perhaps one day, he will attain an even higher post than I have.”
I would have been so happy during that wedding.
Even if it was a small one, even if it had only the villagers of Lu’an in attendance instead of several thousand bannered men, I bet I would have laughed and danced with everyone there.
“You may now perform your pledges,” the Minister of Rites intoned from behind us.
Terren and I knelt on the top terrace, three steps apart. He was not looking at me. His eyes stayed on the rug, which was embroidered gold with dragons, matching his ceremonial robe.
It was the first time I had seen him in anything other than gray. His dragon gown was striking in its redness, its silk gleaming as bright in the sun as the sigil on his cheek. His hair did not fall wild but was instead kept neat, in a top knot, by a gold pin in the shape of yet another dragon.
I had no idea how Hesin had convinced him to look so presentable.
Or to hold back on his wine. He was only a little drunk today—even I could barely tell. If not for the barest whiff of rice wine in the air, and the slightest bit of unsteadiness in his posture, I would not have known at all.
We performed our ceremonial kowtows. Four of them, to four beats of a gong, our foreheads pressing all the way onto the cold snowdust on the rug. They symbolized the same four pledges every new bride and groom in Tensha, even villagers, made on their wedding day.
For each other and our children, care.
For our parents and the Ancestors, piety.
For our community and our nation, duty.
For the emperor and Heaven, obedience.
“Rise,” the minister said.
We got to our feet again, but still Terren did not look at me. It was like he was afraid someone would hurt him, if he took his eyes off the rug even once.
“You may now begin the service of tea,” said the minister.
“To Chancellor Inly, who will act for His Majesty the Yongkai Emperor. To Her Majesty Empress Sun. Together they will bless the union of the Inner and Outer Courts—and, on behalf of all those who have come before, make the marriage official.”
Servants came forward to bring us teacups on plates, decorated with lacquered red and shimmering gold. I took a plate in my hand, and so did Terren. The tea was scented softly with jasmine and lotus seeds, and steamed through the lid.
Not far from us, a pale and fragile-looking eunuch—the chancellor— was seated next to the empress. I knelt on the snow-coated carpet before them. Terren hesitated a moment longer, the Aricine Ward flickering fast. Then he took his place stiffly beside me.
I held myself very, very still. We had not been this close since the night of the rumors, so close I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. I was terrified that if I took a wrong breath, I might accidentally touch him.
He was still not looking at me, but the empress was. As I met her eyes, she gave me the smallest of private smiles. Girls like you, it said, they never survive long in the palace.
She was planning something.
My heart thumped even faster. It suddenly made sense why she had not antagonized me as of late; she must have been waiting for the right opportunity. A wedding in front of the Great Clans and thousands of important guests? It would be the perfect moment for her to strike at both me and Terren.
Terren served the chancellor first, looking like he would rather swallow poison than be this close to me, kneeling for someone else.
I raised my own plate towards the empress.
She did not reach for the cup. Instead, with one sweeping motion, she brushed the entire plate with a golden sleeve—sending the porcelain set shattering onto the ground next to us.
I would have flinched, had I not been trying so hard to not move.
“I wish I could bless the marriage,” she said, standing. “But unfortunately, there is a matter to settle first.”
Terren seemed just as caught off guard as I was. His eyes flicked to the empress, and in them I saw the murderous intent of a pit viper. “Sun Ai. You are ruining my happy day.”
“On the contrary, my dear. I am only trying to look out for you. It is my duty as Mother of the House to ensure the integrity of the Inner Court. Every report must be thoroughly investigated—including the one I am about to bring to your attention.”
He rose to meet her gaze. “You might have had the courtesy to investigate beforehand. In private.”
“There was no time, I’m afraid. I only received it this morning.” A twitch of a smile laid bare her lie, but only to those close enough to catch it.
“Then it can wait until after.”
“It cannot. It concerns your bride, and therefore the sanctity of your marriage.”
My throat became dry. I could almost touch the tension in the air, feel the silence that rose from the crowd of thousands to greet the falling snow.
The look on Terren’s face, it was like he was going to kill the empress, right there and then.
But he wouldn’t, I thought. Not without a reason, so publicly, on such an auspicious day. That would turn all of Tensha against him. The empress seemed to know it too, because her posture was smug and unconcerned.
“Guards,” she said. “Bring in the witness.”
Two Azalea guards led a terrified maid up the stairs, skinny and no older than thirteen.
“This is one of the maids in the West Palace. She came running to me right before the wedding, poor anxious dear.” The empress turned to the girl. “Maya, would you like to repeat to everyone what you told me?”
There were tears in Maya’s eyes and all over her cheeks. She fell onto her knees on the top step to face the crowd of bannermen below. “I … I saw Lady Yin going … going…”
“Louder,” said the empress, sweetly. “So that the whole hall can hear.”
“I saw her going to the West Palace,” she cried. “At night. Alone. Dressed in nothing but bedrobes.”