Page 17 of The Poet Empress
Maybe he’d been telling the truth when he’d said he was tired. Maybe the Ancestors hadn’t entirely forgotten me after all, and they were looking out for me still, even now.
I climbed into the bed next to him, quietly so as not to wake him. I could smell the soap left on his sheets, hibiscus and the nauseating sweetness of ripe plums, and it was all I could do not to heave.
I didn’t sleep that night. How could I, when I was so sick I could barely move? When there were all those white wisteria knives on the ceiling, all pointing straight down at me? When I could feel his every stirring, every breath beside me? My eyes traced his figure, limned in the net of moonlight pouring in from the lattice window. I wondered if he bled like the rest of us. If underneath those gray robes, inside the cage of his chest, there was a beating heart just like mine.
The One Who Cannot Die,they called him.
It was forever until dawn’s light came stuttering in, and another until Terren stirred awake. The first thing he did was float one of his swords down from the ceiling using Dao magic. He looked disappointed that I didn’t flinch or protest as he hovered its point towards me.
His seal flashed as he cut a shallow gash under my rib, then tilted the blade so that my blood dripped onto the sheets. “If you tell anyone what happened last night,” he said, “I will kill you. If you try to escape the palace or get out of our betrothal, I will kill you.” Then he sent me away.
10CONCUBINES AND EMPRESSES
Concubines Anyë and Ruchen, two beautiful peonies;
They loved each other like a valley its river.
The Dongwu Emperor plucked them, petal by petal,
Till, root by leaf, they wither.
—UNKNOWN LITEROMANCER, ASH DYNASTY, YEAR 12
When I returned to my chambers, I was so weak I couldn’t leave my bed. My throat was burning from all the sickness yesterday, my stomach like it had been set afire. The taste of bitter bile in my mouth would not go away no matter how much chrysanthemum tea I drank. When Wren knocked on my door around noon, she took one look at me and said, “Perhaps we should powder your face before the guests arrive, Lady Yin.”
“Guests?”
“Last night was for you and the prince, so the Inner Court has left you alone. But now that the selection has been consummated, everyone will be arriving to offer their congratulations. It is palace tradition.”
I forced myself out of bed. I sat like a stone as I let Wren powder my face, ink my brows, and stain my lips the color of azaleas. The dress she had me put on was a mix of cypress green and gold, its hem brimming with trumpet flowers no doubt grown by palace literomancers. Since gold was the imperial color, my attendant explained, only emperors and their empresses could wear it in full. But people of high enough status like mine ought to wear it in part, to boast their power.
I did not feel like I had power.
The parlor of the Cypress Pavilion was already set up for guests. Low tables were arranged in a circle, between the hydrangea bushes, their surfaces brimming with hot tea, dried dates, and colorful mung bean cakes. There was an elevated seat at one end, not quite a throne; it was there that Wren directed me.
As each guest arrived, their scribes announced them.Lady Liru, Third-Rank Concubine. Lady Cinna, Honored Companion. Lady Sun, Noble Consort.
The higher the rank a concubine had, the more exquisite the embroidery on their phoenix gowns and the thicker their perfume. Flowers of all kinds—trumpet vines, morning glories, bougainvillea—adorned their necks and sleeves. At least one attendant accompanied each of them, more for the higher-ranked guests.
If they were afraid of Terren or of what he’d done to Zhen, their demure smiles didn’t let on. Possibly they believed their families and clans would protect them.
“May you live a thousand years,” they said, and gave me practiced bows.
Sun Jia didn’t bother with formalities. As she entered, in a gown heavy with a thousand stones of jade, she onlyhmmphed,rolled her eyes, and pointedly never looked at me. I vaguely remembered Jia going to the dais sometime after I’d been chosen and receiving, at the empress’s suggestion, the remaining position of Noble Consort.
She must have loathed me to her core. As niece to the empress and a member of the great Sun Clan, everyone had expected her to be sitting where I was.
I kept my eyes averted, my lips silent. I was too exhausted from Terren’s torment to play her games, and it was taking up all my energy to not be sick.
Empress Sun came in last. When she arrived in a full gown of glimmering gold, the first thing she did was have her six servants bring out an elevated seat like mine. When she sat on it, she rose even higher than me. “I hope you don’t mind,” she cooed. “I have joint problems, and my knees are not fit for sitting on the ground.”
“My only wish is for Your Majesty’s comfort,” I replied, having learned etiquette during my month in the peony courtyard.
“A pity you would not afford yourself the same comfort.” She peered at me sideways. “You do not look well, my dear. Are you ill?”
Some primal instinct made me lie, the way a deer might hide a limp from a fox. “I am only tired. It was difficult to sleep last night, with the excitement of being chosen. And besides, you know how stimulating the childmaking activity can be.”
The girls in the room giggled. At once, like a dam breaking, the questions came flooding out. They wanted to know which techniques he liked, the compliments he gave, even what he smelled like. “All the maids were gossiping about the blood on the sheets,” Qi Nere said excitedly. “Please, tell us about your night!”
