by Zoe Marriott
I would never go to the Shadow Ball now.
I wrenched myself away from Otieno so abruptly that I stumbled off the veranda.
“Yue? What are you —?”
I landed on my hands and knees on a gravel path, scrambled to my feet, and began to run. But I did not follow the veranda as Yorimoto-san had. There was no point going back into the house now.
It was too late.
Everything was ruined.
Otieno’s feet landed on the gravel with a crunch as he followed me. “Where are you going?” he called. “What is wrong?”
I could not answer. I went toward the gibbous moon that hung over the garden. It was waxing tonight. Bright. In a week it would be full, and that would be when the Shadow Ball was held.
The Shadow Ball where I would not dance. Where I would not meet the prince. Where I would not finally redeem myself. Not ever.
My eyes had adjusted to the darkness now. I kept them on the moon. Leaving the path behind, I went through flowers that sent up clouds of perfume as I trampled them, and forced my way through bushes that ripped my skirts and sleeves.
“Answer me! Come back!” Otieno shouted.
The moon was tangled in tree branches overhead now. I had stumbled into a little coppice and found myself walking uphill. My breath was wheezing, and my limbs were trembling.
“Yue, come back!”
Driven beyond endurance, I shrieked, “Go away!”
“Do not be stupid!” he shouted back, somewhere nearby. He was not even breathless. “I will not leave you out here alone.”
I came to a halt, and in stopping, I knew that I had come to the end of my strength. I could not take another step. I heard him moving about, not bumbling and thrashing through the trees as I had, but methodically searching. I considered weaving a cloak of shadows around myself but discarded the idea straightaway. He would see through it. I simply had to wait for him to find me.
“Go away,” I said wearily. “Leave me alone. You have ruined everything.”
“What did I ruin?” he asked, directly behind me. “You were so happy to be set free that you nearly threw yourself at me. What could I possibly have ruined?”
I kept my face turned away from him, though it was doubtful he could make out my expression in the shadows. “What were you even doing out there?” I asked, my voice a weary rasp. “What did you do to him to freeze and terrify him like that? Why?”
There was a long pause, and when he spoke, his voice held an edge I had never heard before, not even when he was talking to Yorimoto-san. “I saw Kano-san at the party; she was worried because she had lost sight of you and thought that disgusting Yorimoto might have forced you outside. When I found you, I bound Yorimoto-san in place with my gift because I wanted to get you away from him without a struggle and I wanted to frighten him. There, I have answered you. Now it is your turn to answer questions, and I swear to heaven you will answer me, even if we have to stay out here all night. What is wrong with you? Tell me!”
“It is nothing to do with you!” I snapped, heart aching. “None of it is anything to do with you. We have made no promises to each other. I owe you nothing. Leave me alone!”
“I won’t.” He seized my shoulders and dragged me into his arms, crushing me against him.
I screamed with rage, punching and kicking, barely even knowing it was him I fought against. “Get off me! Let go!”
One of my fists hit his ribs, and he jerked at the blow, arms tightening around me. I went still.
He had been in an accident only the day before. He was bruised and hurt.
“Oh, Otieno,” I whispered. “Sorry. I am sorry.”
“I do not care,” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “You can hit me if you wish. Only do not run away anymore.”
He kissed me, and I responded as if I had no will of my own, my lips opening, my body molding to the shape of his. I found the places I had hit, touching them gently now, carefully running my fingers over his face. We kissed until we both ran out of breath.
“Tell me you love me,” he said, voice ragged.
I drew in a shaky breath. Something in the back of my mind was screaming, telling me that this could not happen, that Otieno was not meant for me. At that moment, I could not make myself listen. For once, the truth was stronger in me than the lies.
“I love you.”
He let out a short gasp of relief, his arms tightening around me again. “And you will come with me, come home to Athazie with me?”
“What?” I croaked.
“I love you. I have been in love with you since that day when I saw you hiding under the willow tree, with dirt on your face and hair like a porcupine. Maybe I loved you before that, from the day you smiled at me on the ship. You slipped away from me both those times. Now that I finally have you, do you really think I could get on a boat and leave you behind? I have not spoken because it might have taken more time. My father and I wrote home immediately after I saw you again at the tea ceremony, and we have been waiting for the reply from our king. I had to have permission to bring you to my country. Kano-san, too, in case you both wished it. The letter has not come yet, and I thought we might have to delay our departure, but the ruler of our province, who came with us, has said that he will vouch for you and your sister, and we believe that this will be enough, if my uncles and brother vouch for you as well.”
“They do not even know me,” I said, dazed.
“They know me,” he said simply. “They know I love you. I intended to tell you all this tomorrow. It is short notice; we could put off leaving for another few weeks, if you need it. Anything you need. I love you so much. I do not think I can ever be happy without you again. Please say you will come with me.”
Laughter escaped me, uncontrollable, slightly hysterical, but real. I did not recognize the emotion that came with it. It was golden and warm, and bright. It burned away that screaming voice in the back of my mind until I could not even hear it anymore.
“Yes,” I said through my laughter. “Of course I will.”
He picked me up again, despite his sore ribs, and swung me around, his laughter joining mine. Then he laid me down on the spongy, cool earth beneath the trees. We both stopped laughing then. Things became slow and careful. It felt like the trees closed around us, as if we were hidden and protected, with all the time we could ever want. With shaking hands, we helped each other undress, spreading our clothes out on the slightly damp grass.
In the bright moonlight, I saw Otieno’s eyes go to my arms — to the pale skin with its livid scars. Burns, cuts, and grazes long healed, representing pain that still lived inside me. I had always hidden them from him before, under dirt or sleeves. I did not try to hide them now. I offered them to him. “They are ugly, are they not?”
“Yue . . .” His hands wrapped carefully around my wrists. One of his palms was almost big enough to cover all the marks. “You think that?”
“I know it,” I said.
He bowed his head, the soft coils of his long hair falling across my thighs as he kissed my arm, kissed a long purple welt, then a short red one, then a scaly brownish burn scar.
“The marks I bear were given to me by my family. They are a sign of the trials I have endured, the skills I have gained, the respect I have earned. They say who I have been, and who I am. Yours are the same,” he whispered. “They are not ugly. Nothing about you ever could be.”
With his hands still holding my wrists, I reached out and touched his shoulders, the thick ridge of muscle there, then the hard curve of his pectorals. I skimmed my fingertips slowly over his abdomen. His head fell back, tendons standing out in his neck.
“You like that,” I said, feeling sly and smug.
He slid one of his hands along my arm, the light touch almost ticklish, bringing gooseflesh and bright shocks of sensation that made me gasp as his hand found my spine and caressed it, a long smooth stroke.
“You like that,” he whispered.
“Let me put my arms
around you,” I said, suddenly desperate to be closer, to hold on to him.
I embraced him, held his weight with the cradle of my body, held his lips against mine. I enveloped myself in him. I would not let go. I would not let go of this happiness. No one could make me.
I stirred, lifting my head from its resting place on the broad plane of Otieno’s chest.
“Otieno — what will Akira think? She must be worried. We just disappeared.”
“It is all right, Pipit,” he said a little sleepily. “I told her when I went looking for you that I would bring you home.”
“Oh, did you?” I said, smiling, framing his face with my hands. “That was presumptuous of you, was it not? You are too sure of yourself, Otieno A Suda.”
“No,” he said. “I am sure of you.”
He turned his head to press a kiss to the center of my palm. A deep shudder of pleasure ran through me, even as the niggle of uneasiness emerged at the back of my mind. If he knew what I have done —
I forced the thought away. He did not have to know. All that was over. There was nothing I could do about it, and I would not allow such memories to taint this moment.
He sighed, sitting up and pulling me with him. “I think it might be time to keep my word now, though. I must take you back to Akira.”
“Spoilsport,” I said, nuzzling my face into his neck, just to feel the shiver he made. “I could stay out all night.”
He laughed. “I have always thought of you as a bird, but I see now that I am wrong. You are much more like a cat, a little soft creature like the ones you used to feed in the garden.”
A snake in cat’s clothing. Again the uneasiness twinged. “Then you must be that golden hunter you talked about,” I said, trying to drown the feeling out. “You certainly roar loudly enough.”
Teasing, kissing, and touching, we put each other’s clothing to rights as well as we could. We searched for Akira’s hairpins for some time and finally found them in the grass. I managed to twist my hair up with them, but I could tell from Otieno’s muffled snigger that the result was not ideal.
“We do not have to go back in again, do we?” I asked.
“Looking like that? I am not sure if they would bar the door to you or take you prisoner and never let you out,” he said, straightening the front of my kimono. “No, you are not going back in. I will walk you around the side of the house to the stables, and we will call for my coach, and you will go home in that.”
“What about you and the rest of your group?”
“Oh, no one will notice if I am a bit disheveled,” he said. “And now that they have seen the dancing girls, no doubt the rest of them will want to stay all night. There will be plenty of time for the carriage to get back from your house before we need it.”
We bickered playfully all the way back to the house — a journey which seemed much shorter this time. When we arrived at the stables, though, the light of hanging lanterns revealed Akira about to climb into her own carriage. She paused when she saw us, and although her face was obscured by the shadow of the carriage door, I could tell she was tense and unhappy.
I felt awful. Despite what Otieno had said, she had been worrying, no doubt imagining all kinds of horrible things. She stepped down from the doorway of the carriage, waving away her coachman’s help, and came toward us, shock flickering across her face as she took in the state of my clothes and hair.
“Perhaps I had better leave you here,” Otieno said. “The stable boys are staring, and Kano-san does not look happy. Explain things to her, please? Tell her she is very welcome with us. She made a great impression on my father.”
I wondered if she would make an even greater impression if A Suda-san realized exactly what was under her kimono. Now was not the time to go into that, but from what Otieno had said in the past, I knew that people in his country were free to love those of the same sex without fear of prejudice, so I was not unduly concerned.
“You will visit us tomorrow,” I said, not quite making it a question.
“As sure as the sun will rise,” he said, risking a fleeting caress of my cheek. “Sleep well, Pipit.”
He turned away, and I turned, too, watching him until he left the lantern light and disappeared into the shadows at the side of the house.
“Well,” said Akira as she reached me. “You look . . .”
“I know how I look, thank you,” I said, unable to suppress the smile spreading across my face.
Akira smiled back, but there was something beneath the smile that made mine fade a little. “Things have changed,” I said. “I have not been hurt, though. I will explain on the way home. You do not have to fret.”
We climbed into the carriage — me averting my eyes from the coachman’s face because I did not want to see if he was smirking — and lit the lantern, and when the light was swaying gently with the movement of the vehicle, I faced her.
“Otieno found me and Yorimoto-san in the garden. You were right about Yorimoto-san: when I would not go outside with him, he resorted to force, and I could not get away.”
I went on, telling her about the way Otieno had threatened and insulted Yorimoto-san, and my conviction that the man would die before he allowed me to attend the ball now. Then I told her that Otieno had asked both of us to leave the Moonlit Land with him and make a new home in Athazie, and that I had said yes.
She remained still and quiet throughout the story, nodding occasionally so that I knew she was listening, but not asking questions or showing any obvious reaction on her face. I leaned forward, bracing myself against the seat with one hand.
“Akira, I know this is sudden, but please will you consider coming with us? You would be leaving your home, but I think there are people in Athazie who would prize you and value you. Including me. Will you think about it?”
She put her hand up to her head as though in pain. I reached out to help her, but she avoided my touch. “Not now. I have to — I do not know what to do for the best. I do not know if you will hate me for this. I just . . . I cannot keep the truth from you.”
She reached into the top layer of her kimono and drew out a folded piece of red paper. There was a seal of golden wax on it impressed with the symbol of a crescent moon rising over a mountain.
I stared at the paper. “Is that —?” I could not finish the question.
“Yorimoto-san found me at the party and told me that you and he had been about to reach an understanding when Otieno interrupted you. He blamed Otieno for everything, and said that since ‘the boy’ was leaving before the ball, he saw no reason why you should miss it because of ‘Athazie barbarism.’ This is only an informal note, but he promised to add your name to the official list tomorrow.”
She held the paper out to me, but it slipped through my nerveless fingers and landed on my lap. On the rumpled, grass-stained kimono that Otieno had smoothed into place with loving hands just a few minutes before.
“Yue, you are invited to the Shadow Ball.”
We went into the house in silence. Akira was waylaid by a servant; I walked into my room, closed the door behind me, and sat down on the mat before the shrine.
Shrine was too grand a name for it, really. It was only a tiny alcove in the wall. The finest thing there was the silver crescent that Akira had given me. It hung on a red thread, to represent the Moon watching over the spirits of my father and cousin. There was little else to see. I had written their names neatly on paper and hung them on the wall, above a pair of cheap incense burners. I had placed flowers here for them that morning: dried lavender for faithfulness, bright yellow suisen for respect, dried white tsubaki for waiting. They were still waiting, I knew.
I had no likenesses of them, or stone tablets inlaid with precious metals or jewels and inscribed with their names. I did not even have a ribbon, an old pipe, not so much as a scrap of cloth, to evoke them. All those things had been left to rot in my father’s house.
Just as their bodies had rotted in the grass where they fell.
&nbs
p; “Forgive me,” I said. “Forgive me. I shall not forget again. I shall not forsake you.”
I heard the screen slide open, but did not look up.
Akira asked, “What are you going to do?”
“You already know the answer,” I said. My voice sounded dead.
“What about Otieno?”
“He will forget me.”
“No, he will not,” she said, and her voice broke, though there was no reproach in it. “You know he will not. You promised him, Yue.”
I leaned my forehead on the edge of the shrine, pressing until I felt the bone of my skull grinding against the wood. “They have no one but me. If I do not remember them, they will not be remembered. If I do not punish Terayama-san, then he will never be punished. I have no choice.”
“You do have a choice. If you want to go with Otieno —”
“It is not a matter of wanting!” I banged my head down so hard on the edge of the shrine that the little incense burners rattled. “I do not want to go to the Shadow Ball and dance, and give myself to the prince. It makes me sick to think of it now. Sick. But I cannot abandon them to pursue my own selfishness. I cannot do what my mother did.”
Akira came to kneel beside me, placing her hand on my back. “This is completely different! You are not your mother. You have done nothing wrong. Your family would not begrudge you your own life, your own happiness.”
I lifted my head from the edge of the shrine but could not bring myself to look at Akira. I wanted to tell her; I felt as if I would burst from the wanting that swelled up in me. But if I did, she would turn from me, just as Youta had, just as anyone would. No one could trust and help a girl who had murdered her own mother. And then I would be alone again, and I would never be able to attend the Shadow Ball.
“I do not deserve happiness, Akira. I have done something . . . something so terrible . . .”