The Gods of Vice
Page 35
“Clear the stones!” General Ryoji ordered, and his men began dragging away the dead, leaving bloody trails on already red stones. One was the enemy who had worn the robe of a novice and led me up the mountain.
“My lady,” Kin said, indicating the Shrine Stone. “Would you do me the honour?”
I went to him, stepping over a woman no older than myself. Her throat was a bloodied mess and her limbs were tangled. Broken. The stink of blood and fluids mixed with the incense, and it was all I could do not to be sick.
Kin seemed not to see the dead. He knelt at the altar and waited until I joined him, until once again the night was silent.
Father Hoto clasped his trembling hands. “Our goddess the Lady Lunyia,” he said, seeming to draw comfort from habitual words. “Mother of the moon and the rivers and the springs, turn your gaze upon us that you might hear our words and bless this union we have gathered to declare.”
The black sash was gone, whisked away in the chaos, leaving a white one draped in its place.
But Conceit had been right. Had that been his purpose in coming? Merely to sow doubt in Kin’s mind?
The thud of my heart drowned the rest of Father Hoto’s words. This was it. From here, there was no going back. At the end of the ceremony, Father Hoto would tie the sash around my waist, and there it would remain for seven days, after which the rite would be complete and my husband would untie it with his own hands. It was tradition, just like the colour. White to mark the virgin bride. But it was not Kin’s hands I knew, not his touch I remembered in the middle of the night. It was Katashi who came to me in the darkness of my tent, his naked body strong and heavy, musky and sweet. His hands on my hips, caressing, grasping, his warm breath stealing past my ear as he chuckled at my desire.
“Emperor Kin Ts’ai, first of your name, Lord Protector of the Kisian Empire,” the priest said, shocking me from my reverie. “You may now speak your prayers.”
Kin shifted, pulling crimson silk from beneath one knee so the skirt could spread neatly. It was the very same robe in which he had first asked me to marry him for the sake of Kisia, the very same robe I had wanted to spit on.
“I pray the gods hear my words,” Kin said, his head bowed such that his neat topknot stood proud. “I, Kin Ts’ai, emperor of the imperial expanse of Kisia, pray for your blessing upon my marriage. This day, in your presence, I offer this bridal sash to Lady Hana Aura Otako. Its knot is tied to mend what is broken, and to bring peace to Kisia. This woman I take in good faith and honour, and will protect as my own blood from this day until death.”
I shivered as Kin’s voice faded from the air.
“Lady Hana,” Father Hoto said. “First and only daughter of Emperor Lan Otako, you may now speak your prayer.”
The soldiers continued to shift bodies as quietly as they could, and I tried not to think about it, tried to breathe evenly as I spread my own skirt with shaking hands. The robe had been procured from Mei’lian especially for the occasion—pale pink and embroidered with shimmering gold threads that caught on my dry fingers.
Beside me, the ghost of Katashi edged closer through the stink of death. It ought to have been him kneeling on the other side of the altar, his single dimple peeping beside his lopsided smile.
I swallowed a lump in my throat.
“I, Lady Hana Aura Otako, first and only daughter of His Majesty the Great Emperor Lan Otako, kneel now before the gods in acceptance. In humility, I beg to be found worthy of such honour and will serve my duties with patience and fortitude.”
We had fought over the words. They were traditional, like the sash and the ceremony, and as much as he had assured me equal power under the law, such changes could not be made while we were in the midst of a civil war. Therefore, as Kin’s empress I would have a position of power, but as his wife I was expected to be submissive.
“You may rise.”
Kin did so easily, so used to the great skirt of his robe that he neither stepped on it nor had to kick it out of the way. It wore him as naturally as he wore it.
Mine was more awkward, and Father Hoto held out a helping hand. I did not take it, just stared at the soft wrinkles criss-crossing every finger. The hand was withdrawn, and I got to my feet, standing tall and proud while Father Hoto took up the sash. Chanting another prayer to Lunyia, he passed the white silk around my waist. It tightened, as Katashi’s hold had tightened, his hands skimming my naked skin like a sculptor appreciating form.
At my belly, the old man’s hands moved quickly, tying the knot a woman only wore once in her life. It was commonly called the Chastity Knot, a complex little flower with long tails, famous for the difficulty of untying it. There was a trick to it, I had heard, a simple tug in the right place and it would unravel, but there were many stories of husbands left to struggle by wives who feared consummation, and I wondered if when it came to it, I would be one of them. Kin was not Katashi.
Father Hoto let the tails fall and stepped back to appreciate his handiwork. The story would be altered of course, cleaned of bloodshed, but soon every nobleman in Kisia would want his prospective bride gift-wrapped by the hands that had tied Lady Hana for their emperor.
“Under the divine gaze of the great goddess Lunyia,” he said. “And in the presence of all those gathered tonight, I declare that after the sevenday, the marriage between Emperor Kin Ts’ai, first of his name, and Lady Hana Aura Otako, only daughter of the late Emperor Lan Otako, will be complete. Long live Emperor Kin.”
Amid blood and lifeless flesh, the circle of guards bowed, a military witness to a marriage made in war. “Long live Emperor Kin.”
By Devin Madson
THE VENGEANCE TRILOGY
The Blood of Whisperers
The Gods of Vice
The Grave at Storm’s End
THE REBORN EMPIRE
We Ride the Storm