Page 42 of Drawn into Oblivion

Would that change if she said she wanted all of him? She sometimes thought she did, especially when he had her on the brink of climax and whispered the most delightfully lewd things in her ear, but closing the distance between them terrified her. Would it be wonderful or would it be disappointing? Or something in between? Would she panic? Would it hurt? Most of all, would he act differently afterward?

A soft knock jolted Mai from her thoughts. She slid from her bed, quickly changed into a fresh underrobe, and quietly padded to the door.

“Good morning, Elder Mai,” Kyoko said with a smile. She held a few sheets of paper full of her neat handwriting. Standing aside, Mai admitted the younger woman into her room before walking to her dress cabinet. She would need to wear her season’s color that day as part of the festival.

“Everything is in place,” Kyoko began as she slid the door shut, “but the ladies would like to review the schedule with you one more time. Oh, and the rainwater in the waste barrels is being dumped as we speak.”

Mai slipped her arms into the sleeves of a leaf-green robe with water lilies along the skirt and birds on the shoulders. Kyoko set her papers on the vanity and helped her dress.

“Is the ground still soft from the rains yesterday?” Mai asked as Kyoko deftly wrapped the matching sash around her waist.

“Only a little. The sun will dry the paths by midmorning.”

“That’s a relief. Are the ladies on their way to the ceremony hall?”

“They are. A few are already rehearsing.”

“Then let us not waste daylight,” Mai declared as she smoothed away any wrinkles in her skirt. She briefly checked her hair, which she’d carefully braided last night, and then walked to the door. Kyoko retrieved her papers and followed.

⁂

Two hours later, Mai knocked on the empress’s bedroom door. The entire court, not to mention all the survivors of Houfu, would be attending the festival, so Kyoko had gone ahead to help direct the crowd. The guards at both ends of the hallway regarded her far more closely than the last time she’d visited Shumei’s bedchamber. They had still nodded respectfully, but their gazes lingered.

The bedroom door opened and Vallen appeared wearing a disarming smile. His dimples really softened his face, and she was blushing before she knew it. The high general’s straight black hair had grown longer in the last couple of months and now hung past his shoulders.

Something else had changed about him as well. The marking Rosuke had predicted would appear around Vallen’s neck had done so—a permanent band of red circles woven together by delicate vines. Red was the most auspicious color, and rings were a typical element for an empress and her consort, but the vines were unique to their union.

“Good morning, Mai. Fine weather for the festival today.”

“Indeed, it is. Is the empress ready?” She glanced over Vallen’s shoulder but didn’t see Shumei.

“Don’t worry, I woke her up,” he said with a wink, only making her blush harder.

“I see,” she stuttered, not sure what else to say.

A slender arm draped in a white sleeve appeared from the side and slinked around his neck. “Vallen,” the empress pleaded.

“Excuse me a moment,” he said to Mai with an apologetic smile. He leaned out of sight, and Mai could distinctly hear the sounds of kissing. Her cheeks burned, but the kiss didn’t last long. Vallen straightened, smile broad.

“I’ll leave you now,” he said as he drew his thumb across his wet lower lip. “I have a few duties to attend to before the opening ceremony. Good luck.” He brushed past her. Both guards stood straighter, bidding him good morning as he passed.

“Come in, Mai,” Shumei beckoned. She had rested her chin on the door’s edge and wore a sleepy smile.

After they had shut the door, Mai followed as Shumei casually walked to her vanity. She had already dressed, and she admired her joining mark in her reflection as she took a seat, stroking her neck proudly.

The empress’s vanity was crowded with even more items than Mai’s. One open case held a small assortment of jewelry and other accessories—undoubtedly gifts—and another held small tubs of fragrant creams and powders. Shumei dabbed her fingers into a heavy, white cream and spread it on her hands and face. The scent of lavender wafted up. Mai recognized another box meant for face paints and brushes, and the ornate wooden case in front of the empress held her imperial headdress. The mélange of silk braids and silk flowers atop a shaped, silk cap had been remade based on Vallen’s recollections, but Shumei had refused the more elaborate embellishments, such as bracketing waterfalls of silk fringe, and three enormous fans of white lace. As it was, the headdress already gave the empress several inches of height.

What ultimately drew Mai’s eyes, however, was a large box made of coal wood on the far end of the vanity. The same box had been sitting alone in the corner of the room on the empress’s joining day. It gleamed a little less than something newly made would, but its lock shined. Dread stirred in her stomach as she stared at it.

“Are we ready for today?” Shumei asked, breaking into Mai’s thoughts. Processing the question took Mai a couple heartbeats, and she stammered as she answered.

“The festival grounds are ready. As for the opening ceremony, all the other house elders and their teams have already gone ahead.” The events of her dream pressed upon her, urging her to speak, but Shumei looked so happy, and Mai wasn’t sure she should ruin such a good day before it had even started.

“Mai, if you don’t spit out whatever ill news you have for me, I think the sour look on your face might become permanent,” Shumei joked, pulling a brush through her hair.

“I-I’m sorry, Empress,” she said as she shook her head. “I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news.”

Shumei glanced at her in the mirror. “The sooner you tell me, the sooner we can fix it.” She set aside her brush and opened the case that held her crown, which sat upon a bed of white silk. “And please don’t call me Empress.” She donned her headdress, completely undercutting her request to be called by her name. But the two of them were alone, and Mai supposed Shumei would be hearing more than enough people call her Empress that day.