Page 11 of The Poet Empress
“I have heard,” whispered the moon-faced girl, “that he never tookconcubines of his own back when he was heir, so deep was his love for his wife.”
“Or perhaps he is simply a prude,” the rosy-cheeked candidate replied, apparently equipped with a jab at every prince. “I hear he has spent many years of his youth wasting away in the temples. Perhaps he is so religious he cannot spare a single thought for us girls.”
My eyes drifted to the woman walking beside him, whose hair was frost-white, as I knew was common for members of the Song Clan. Her dress was woven from lotuses and glowed like the moonlight.Shewas beautiful, I decided. Though as with its men, I had not yet understood the palace’s powder-faced and ink-browed idea ofbeautiful,I did admire her smile, which made it seem like she was afraid of nothing. It was no surprise that she had caught a prince’s attention, I thought, with a smile like that.
The first son, his wife, and their servants took their places near the dais. And then there was only one prince left.
We waited a long, long time for Terren.
We waited so long that the gray skies outside gave way to gray rains, and storm winds battered at the windows. The crowd had become as restless as Heaven, and the candidates just as agitated, when a figure finally did appear at the gate, alone and drenched all the way through.
7MERCY
The hall was silent as the second son entered, dripping water with every slow step. There was no palanquin to carry him, no servants to tend to him, no allies for company. His gray robes were entirely plain. The only adornment he had on his person was an unsheathed sword, which he used as a walking stick.
He was shorter than in my nightmares.
There was no scowl on his face, but he did not need one. There was enough menace in his black eyes to fill the entire room. Beneath his rain-slicked hair, his?/Dao sigil burned like fire, though it was not the only part of him that was magic. Around his whole body, a stream of Tenshan characters, arcane-white, swirled like glowing chains. I wondered if it was the Aricine Ward I’d heard so much about, the legendary Blessing that made him unable to die.
“Something’s wrong with him,” the rosy-cheeked candidate whispered.
I blinked; she was right. The prince was not walking normally but stumbling with every step. Several times, he had to use his sword to stop from falling.
As he passed us, I caught the stink of rice wine, strong and sour and sick-making.
“Prince Guan Terren.” The herald’s voice was uncertain. “The Winter Dragon, The One Who Cannot Die, and the Second Son and Heir of the Azalea House.”
He had a hard time getting up the steps to his throne. He actually tripped and fell—twice—but nobody went to help him. Not the bannermen in the audience, not the hundreds of servants and guards stationedaround the hall, not any of his half brothers. The empress remained motionless in her seat, though she almost seemed like she was pleased.
“May you live a thousand years,” the guests said in unison. The standard greeting for an empress or a prince.
Terren barked out a laugh as he sank into his throne. “I doubt any of you actually wish that.” Even slurred, his voice was dark and dangerous. “I doubt any of you wish me to live even a day longer.”
A scared knot formed in my stomach, unbidden. I had tried to prepare myself for the selection by imagining all the ways he could have been terrible, but this was one I could never have conceived of. The few times I had seen men drunk like this, in Guishan’s gambling houses, they were always angry and throwing things. And the only things near Terren were knives.
A stooped, white-haired eunuch stepped up to the dais. “If it pleases Your Highness, we will begin your selection now.”
“It does not, Hesin, but I am told we must anyway.” Terren produced a gourd flask from his belt, took a long swig, and wiped his lips with a draping sleeve.
The look of hate on Maro’s face could have burned steel.
The old eunuch named Hesin bowed and waved the first girl forward, who stepped onto the dais. “Then, on behalf of the Second Son and Heir, and the Mother of the Inner Court, we begin.” He unfurled a scroll and read, “Kang Rho. Daughter of the Scarlet General Kang Zhulun, of Angxi City. Seventeen years old.”
“Discard her,” Terren said immediately. I did not think he had even looked at her.
From beside him, the empress’s mouth twisted. “We will do no such thing.” She stroked her sleeping son’s head with a nail and turned to Rho. “I understand, my dear, that your grandfather has given his life for the empire during the War of the Highlands. This sacrifice has not been forgotten. We will retain you as a concubine. In addition, we grant you one of two positions of Noble Consort.”
Rho’s eyes widened. The only rank higher than Noble Consort was Empress-in-Waiting. I knew it must have been a tremendous honor.
Hesin glanced warily at Terren, as if waiting for him to protest the empress’s decision, but the prince didn’t seem capable of speaking. His head kept tipping forward, eyes growing increasingly unfocused.
The eunuch swallowed and turned back to the crowd. “The House has made our decision. We thank Lady Kang for her family’s military achievements, and we grant her the title of Noble Consort.”
Whispers began immediately from every corner of the hall. Everyone seemed as shocked as I was. Prince Terren was powerful. He was the bearer of Dao magic, after all, the heir to the empire, the wearer of the mythical Aricine Ward.
Why was he not even choosing his own concubines? Why leave it to the empress?
The selection continued as Hesin moved to the next candidate. “Bi Lou. Daughter of Bi Byrou, governor of the East Valley District. Age sixteen.” A thin girl stepped onto the dais to await her judgment.
