Emperor of the Fireflies

by Sarah Ash

  Guiltily, feeling like a child caught helping herself to sweets when her mother’s back is turned, she put down the empty cup and rose, almost tripping over the voluminous pink and violet layered skirts and went to slide open the screen that opened into the garden.

  Hotaru, stood outside, his folded fan raised, about to tap a second time. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long for me, Lady Ayaka.”

  “Oh, no, I was reading some poetry,” Ayaka said, affecting what she hoped was an appropriately casual tone. She bowed low, then shuffled backwards on her knees so that he could enter. Behind him she glimpsed his page, Kobai, lower the lantern – and then was distracted as she noticed the shadowy figures of the emperor’s bodyguards flitting to and fro across the courtyard.

  “I can’t go anywhere these days without them,” Hotaru said with an apologetic smile. He removed his black lacquered eboshi and set it down. “By the end of the day it gives me a headache,” he said. “It’s a relief to be able to remove it.”

  “Would you like some sake?” Ayaka asked, remembering that she was supposed to be making her imperial guest feel comfortable. “It’s my father’s favorite.”

  “Lord Nagamoto always serves the most delicious and subtle-flavored sake.” Hotaru took a sip and nodded to show his appreciation. And then he did something she had never seen him do before; he took off his spectacles, placing them carefully on the table, and rubbed the bridge of his nose where they had left a little red mark. “My new spectacles are still a little tight,” he explained. “They need adjusting.”

  Ayaka was delighted that he seemed so at ease in her company. This was how she had imagined their relationship might come to be in the ensuing months: precious evenings stolen alone together, when Hotaru could relax in her company, away from the pressures of court life.

  She took another sip from her cup, feeling the alcohol make the tips of her earlobes glow. It was a pleasant, comforting warmth and she heard herself asking, “Have you had a tiring day, imperial majesty?”

  “When we’re alone, there’s no need for you to be so formal,” he said. “It would make me very happy if you could call me by my given name. After all, we faced death together not so long ago when Shiomitsu caused the flood.”

  “So we did.” Ayaka remembered how tightly she had clung to him and felt the hot color spreading from her ears across her face and down her throat.

  He leaned closer to her. “I’m sorry that we’ve had so little time together since then. You must think I’ve been neglecting you.”

  “Oh no, not at all, you’ve spoiled me and just when you must be very busy with your official imperial duties,” Ayaka babbled, pointing to his poems lying on the table, each one tastefully written on a different kind of paper: willow green; maple orange and the special creamy white reserved for love letters of the most intimate nature. “I read them several times every day.” Was the sake making her so talkative? She heard the words issuing from her mouth but seemed to be unable to stop the flow.

  “I’m flattered; I fear my lack of skill often frustrates me,” he said, with a little self-deprecating smile. “I see something that inspires me: the first dusting of frost on the fiery red of the maple leaves melting in the early autumn sun, say, and then I struggle to continue in a meaningful way.”

  “Oh, but that’s such a striking image.” Ayaka said, desperate to please.

  “I’m glad you like it.” He set the cup down on the table and turned to her. Suddenly he seemed very close and she found herself staring self-consciously at the floor. “Ayaka; there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you – but the right occasion hasn’t presented itself till now.” He hesitated and her heart began to pound. What can it be? And then, before she could resist, he reached out, touching her face, and, turning it to his, kissed her.

  To her shame, she let out a little squeak of surprise – which was soon smothered as he pulled her closer and the kiss continued. She had not expected to taste the sake on his breath, his tongue. It’s not entirely unpleasant, I suppose, in fact it feels rather deliciously sinful. She was so caught up in the experience that she forgot to breathe and found herself drawing back, gasping for air.

  “Forgive me,” he murmured in her ear, “but I have to know. Was that your first kiss, Ayaka?”

  Oh no. He’s remembering what happened after the flood. Will he reject me? I can’t lie. But what happened on the seashore was not really me.

  Her throat had tightened. I have to tell the truth. “I know that I did something shameful and improper at the Tide Festival,” she said, unable to meet his eyes. “But that wasn’t really me. The goddess Inari possessed me. She used my body to say a final farewell to Lord Kurozuro and Lord Akatobi. I would never, ever have kissed Lord Kaito or Lord Masao otherwise! I mean, I don’t even know them, I –”

  “It’s all right,” Hotaru said, stroking her cheek. “I understand. I couldn’t help wondering whether the goddess had come to you again since the festival. Or whether she had forged some special link between you and Lords Kaito and Masao.”

  “A link?” The thought puzzled Ayaka as much as it alarmed her. “How would I know if she had?”

  “Strange dreams, perhaps?”

  “I’ve had nightmares about drowning more than once since then,” Ayaka admitted. “But I can’t remember any dreams about the Tide Dragons.”

  “Promise me that you’ll tell me straight away if you do,” he said, his dark eyes gazing earnestly into hers. “I don’t want my empress to suffer needlessly.”

  “My empress.” His words made her feel cherished. “I promise,” she said, gazing back at him. He leaned in and kissed her again and this time the kiss was deeper and more forceful. His hands began to move from her shoulders, sliding inside the elaborate folds of her layered robes. “This is such a becoming outfit and the soft colors suit you well,” he said a little ruefully, “but it seems to be designed to keep you safe from assault, even by your own husband.”

  She giggled, charmed by the way he described himself as her husband.

  “There are some ribbons here,” she said, guiding his fingers and was then surprised to discover that he was rather more skilled at peeling away the silk and gauze layers than he had first professed. While she was wondering what Lady Ukifune would have done in her situation, she realized that his hands were roving quite freely over her bare skin, producing sensations that were far more intense, alarming and exciting than any her favorite novelist had described. And when he shed his own clothes and pressed his naked body against hers, burning skin to skin, she felt a moment’s utter panic before surrendering to his insistent embraces.

  ***

  Ayaka woke. For a moment she could not remember where she was – and then the regular, soft sound of breathing beside her reminded her that she was not alone.

  The emperor of all the islands of Cipangu is lying here asleep beside me.

  In the dim light of dawn, Hotaru’s sleeping face looked different, boyish and touchingly defenseless. She ran a strand or two of his long black hair through her fingertips, feeling a secret thrill of pride that she alone was privileged to share this intimate moment with the most powerful man in the empire. He stirred and turned on his side, letting out a sigh, but did not wake.

  He was not as muscularly built as Lord Takeru, or Lord Kaito; the two Black Crane lords had, like all their clan, been trained as archers since childhood and their shoulders and upper arms were well developed. Hotaru might be emperor at thirty-two, but his body was still that of a slender scholarly student, a little round-shouldered, his delicate skin pale from the many hours he had spent indoors studying in the Bureau of Divination. As he turned again, sleepily raising his left hand to push a lock of hair from his eyes, she spotted something she had not noticed before: a jewel-bright tattoo on the inside of his wrist, a little dragon curled in on itself, an oval of scarlet and black. Perhaps it was the badge of his mother’s clan? She found herself reaching out, curious to touch it.

  But
before her fingertips made contact with the tattoo, there came a soft, tactful scratching at the outer door. The shadowy form of a man could just be glimpsed through the paper panes; it must be one of Hotaru’s bodyguards, come to escort him from her rooms. Ayaka hastily slid beneath the coverlet, terrified that some official might come in and see her in a state of undress.

  Hotaru sat up.

  “Dawn already?” he said sleepily. “Forgive me, Ayaka, but protocol demands that a gentleman takes his leave before the sun rises.” He rose and busied himself with his clothes; then, putting on his spectacles and taking up his hat, he slid the outer door open a little way, letting in a sharp gust of early morning air. “Till tonight,” he said and then added, “I’ll find it difficult to concentrate on my work today, knowing that I’ll be seeing you again.”

  Ayaka, not sure what to say, whispered, “Me too.” The door slid shut behind him and she was alone once more.

  She rolled over on the futon, stretching, luxuriating in the few moments’ blissful solitude before her mother came in to check up on her. She could not help noticing that there was a lingering odor of his body scent clinging to the sheets, even – as she sniffed her own skin – to her. It wasn’t unpleasant. “It’s just rather. . .manly,” she whispered to herself and then let out a little squeal of delight at her own outrageous observation.

  Hotaru had done his best to make her feel more pleasure than pain, murmuring in her ear seductively sweet words to help her relax. But she winced as she stood up, aware that the part of her body so euphemistically described by the poets of Xiang as a jade chamber felt more like a smoldering fire-pit after his exertions.

  I didn’t imagine he would be quite so vigorous. She sighed. I suppose I’ll get used to it. It was certainly. . .exciting. Stirring. Even enjoyable. . . A little flush of heat seared through her as she remembered the way his hands had moved over her, undressing her, peeling away her clothes, the feeling of his naked body pressed so tightly against hers. . .

  “Are you alone, Ayaka?”

  “Yes, Mother.” The dreamlike idyll was over; the maternal interrogation was about to start.

  Her mother entered, eyes darting sharp glances around the room as though she was looking for signs to confirm that the emperor had been there.

  “Are you ‘all right,’ Ayaka?” she asked pointedly.

  “That depends what you mean by ‘all right.’” Ayaka wasn’t sure if she was supposed to say how blissful she felt or whether she was allowed to admit to feeling a little sore.

  Her mother drew closer. “Heavens, child, must I spell it out? Did you. . .and he. . . ?”

  “Why wouldn’t we, Mother? Yes. We did.”

  The next moment, Ayaka found herself smothered in her mother’s embrace. To her surprise, she realized that the princess was weeping. “My little girl’s become a woman.”

  “Oh please, Mother, don’t say such embarrassing things.” Ayaka extricated herself from her mother’s arms. “I want to take a bath.”

  “I’ll call your ladies-in-waiting. . .”

  Ayaka pulled a face. She really didn’t want to have to submit to the scrutiny of strangers at such a sensitive time. “Can’t I have Reika? Just once more?”

  Princes Omiya tutted. “You’re far too dependent on that girl. It could be seen as a disadvantage by some at court – even a weakness.”

  “Please, Mother?”

  “Very well; at least Reika is efficient and scrupulously tidy. I’ll send for her right away.”

  ***

  Ayaka, refreshed by her bath and liberally dusted with the simple yet subtle Lotus Leaf perfumed powder, returned to her room to find her mother agitatedly pacing up and down.

  The sake cups had been cleared, the sheets changed, and the bed discreetly concealed by painted screens. A servant brought in green tea, with a plateful of freshly made rice balls. Ayaka, suddenly ravenously hungry, helped herself to the food and offered her mother a bowl of tea.

  “My dear girl, I couldn’t possibly eat or drink until your intended sends his ‘next morning’ letter to you. The sooner the better, to put our minds at rest.”

  “Is there any reason to think that he might not?” Ayaka, nibbling a rice ball, had not considered that Hotaru might have undergone a change of heart after spending a night with her. “He seemed happy enough.”

  “There are still another two nights to go. And plenty of other noble families at court have eligible daughters who may still try to distract Hotaru’s attention away from you.”

  Ayaka had just taken a bite from her second rice ball; she swallowed hard, the snack suddenly tasting dry and unpalatable. “But Hotaru chose me. Surely he wouldn’t change his mind. He couldn’t!”

  “Until your fiancé sends that all-important letter, confirming the strength of his feelings, all things are possible. And it’s nearly noon.”

  Suppose I didn’t please him? Crushed at the thought, Ayaka set down the rice ball, half-eaten. I did my best. It was just all so new to me. She was not sure whether she could ever endure the humiliation if Hotaru were to reject her.

  Chapter 9

  Ayaka and her mother were playing go to make the time pass more swiftly. But as day wore on, Ayaka was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate, twitching at every slight sound, whether birds alighting on the roof or the gardener sweeping leaves from the path outside.

  A sudden swift patter of feet hurrying along the path made Ayaka glance up. The princess, showing uncharacteristic eagerness, swept open the outer door screen to reveal Kobai, the emperor’s favorite page boy, a little out of breath.

  “A letter for your daughter, Princess,” he said, bowing as he held out a folded sheet of lilac-dyed paper.

  “Well, Ayaka,” her mother said as she took it, “what does it say?”

  Ayaka opened the letter and swiftly scanned what Hotaru had written:

  “First dust of frost on the red fire of the maple leaves. . .

  Your kindness is like the early autumn sun, melting the chill in my heart.”

  “Oh,” she said, remembering their conversation from the night before. “That’s so charming.” She pressed the letter against her heart – and then realized that her mother was staring at her open-mouthed.

  “Where’s my ink stone?” Ayaka’s heart was beating so fast she could hardly think. “I must reply at once.”

  “But what has his majesty written?” the princess cried, seizing the precious letter from her daughter’s hand. Ayaka was about to remonstrate with her mother, fearing the delicate paper might tear with such rough treatment but when she saw the expression of relief and delight on her face, she bit her tongue.

  “This is wonderful,” Princess Omiya said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Kobai, please come with me while Ayaka pens her reply. We have gifts for you and for his majesty.”

  She ushered the silent Kobai out of Ayaka’s room, calling her ladies to bring refreshments. Ayaka sank back down on the cushions; her knees suddenly felt weak.

  What can I write? My head is full of so many confusing thoughts, like whirling leaves.

  “Whirling autumn leaves,” she murmured. The conceit pleased her. She took out her ink stone and a sheet or two of paper the delicate hue of wisteria blossoms, and after a moment’s thought, began to pen her reply.

  ***

  “Thank the gods for your father’s best sake,” Princess Omiya remarked as Ayaka finished her third poem to her fiancé. “Every girl needs a little help on her first evenings alone with her husband-to-be. Now we can serve the traditional third night rice cakes and plan the wedding feast.”

  “Did you and father drink sake on your first night together?” Ayaka asked, laying down her ink stick.

  “It was the middle of winter and the capital was knee-deep in snow. It was so romantic, drinking hot sake, huddling up close to keep warm.” The princess clasped her hands together, a look of such bliss on her face that Ayaka wished she had not asked.

  ***


  Ayaka beckoned Reika closer. Her maid shuffled forward on her knees and bowed until her forehead almost touched the tatami mats.

  “Reika,” Ayaka said softly, “when we’re alone together, there’s no need for you to bow to me.”

  “But now that you’re officially the emperor’s first wife –”

  “That changes nothing between us.”

  “But you’re moving to your own apartment in the imperial palace tonight.”

  Ayaka nodded. She was so excited that she felt she would burst if she didn’t confide in her oldest companion. She seized Reika’s hand, pressing it between her own. “I didn’t know it was possible to feel this happy, Reika.”

  “I’m so glad for you, your highness.” Reika kept her face averted so Ayaka could not see her expression.

  “Mother says that Lady Saisho will be in charge of my ladies-in-waiting. You remember her?”

  “She taught you Empress Himiko’s dance for the Tide Festival.” Reika raised her face at last. “But I believe I heard that her name was linked with the emperor’s at one time.”

  “Her name was linked with Hotaru’s?” Ayaka repeated, wondering for a moment if this was some scurrilous piece of court gossip that she was unaware of. But then she dismissed the thought. “Surely my mother would have warned me if there was the slightest hint of anything scandalous between the two of them.”

  “Just be careful, my lady, not to offend her and make her your enemy.”

  “Really, Reika, have you no faith in me at all?” Ayaka was hurt that Reika should think she could be so tactless.

  “The court can be a dangerous place for a young woman. It’s even rumored that the emperor’s mother was poisoned by a jealous rival.”

  “But surely that was just malicious gossip?”

  “And his first wife, Princess Aoi, died of a mysterious illness.”

  “But you’ll protect me, won’t you, Reika? As you always have?”

  “As long as I am allowed to stay by your side,” Reika said, “I’ll protect you.”

  Ayaka, forgetting the demands of protocol, flung her arms round Reika and enveloped her in a sincere and heartfelt hug.