The Girl King (The Girl King #1)(18)
And then—most beautiful of all, Min thought—came the moment when the groom-to-be mounted the dais with her. There, he would remove the betrothal robes to unveil the covenant gown beneath: deep, warm gold, like a new flame, to represent the heart that has begun to kindle. On the day of the wedding, she would come to him in the same gown, only now with a cape of brilliant scarlet—a fire stoked and burning and beautiful for him alone.
The line of servants behind them parted, interrupting Min’s thoughts. A eunuch bowed low beside her father. Min heard him murmur to the emperor, “The ammas checked her apartments. There is no sign of the Princess Lu or her nunas.”
“Tell them to look harder,” snapped the empress, shooting the hapless man a furious sidelong glare. Then, after a moment, “Check the abandoned shamaness temple.”
Min blinked in surprise at that—no one ever went into the old shamaness temple, except perhaps the odd page boy on a dare. But, she supposed, that would make it an excellent place to hide.
“We have people searching everywhere,” the attendant assured the empress.
Her mother huffed. “I swear to the heavens if the girl’s run off, I’ll flog her myself—”
“She won’t have run off,” her father interrupted, looking thoughtful. “What she could possibly be doing, though, I wonder.”
At that moment, a ripple went through the crowd, beginning in the far west corner of the courtyard. Min craned her neck to see the cause of the commotion, for once grateful of her high-bottomed shoes. A group of monks was emerging from the Hall of the Ancestors. Only the monks wore robes of gray and white, and these figures were dressed in the warm orange silks of nunas . . .
“The princess!” Snowdrop squealed from behind her. The little nuna had all but clambered onto Butterfly’s shoulders to afford herself a view.
Min looked to the front of the party and saw her sister, tall and magnificent in a new robe of scarlet silk. Not her betrothal robes.
“What does she think she is doing?” her empress-mother seethed between clenched teeth. “Daagmun, stop her. Stop this at once—Amma Ruxin . . . someone find Ruxin! Heavens above, what is she wearing?”
Min squinted toward where her sister was making her way—slowly, deliberately—toward the dais of betrothal. Her sister had many clothes of red silk, which favored her ink-black hair and copper-flecked eyes in addition to celebrating their Hu heritage, but Min had never seen her wearing these robes before. They were, she thought, rather ill-fitting—far too big, almost as though they had been cut for a full-grown man—and the silk ran thin and nearly threadbare at the elbows. Nevertheless, there was something familiar about them . . .
“The robes of Emperor Kangmun,” her father murmured softly. “She must have taken them from the Hall of the Ancestors.”
“Heavens have mercy,” Butterfly whispered behind her.
“You,” the empress hissed, pointing at a pair of her ammas. “Fetch the princess. Escort her back to her apartments and change her into the betrothal robes. Have the guards drag her if you must—”
Min didn’t dare laugh—not in a situation of this gravity, not with her mother in such a state—but she nearly did anyway. They should have known her sister would not take her fate lying down. “It’s too late,” she heard herself say.
“What?” Her mother whirled on her, but Min pointed to where her sister was mounting the white betrothal dais. Lu’s nunas knelt reverently against the stone floor of the Heart in two neat rows as the princess made her ascent.
Her fathered chuckled then, unexpectedly. “The little one is correct. Lu belongs to the heavens alone now. We must see what she does.”
Her sister raised an imperious hand and the chatter in the courtyard evaporated. The only remaining sound was the omnipresent crackle of the First Flame.
“Open the gates. Let me look upon my suitor.”
Princess Lu’s voice rang out loud and clear over the hushed crowd. The guards started at her order, then hesitated. They exchanged glances before turning helplessly toward the emperor.
Her mother started forward, but the emperor grabbed her wrist and she froze in place, staring in disbelief at where they touched. She recovered quickly, though. “Stop this foolishness at once!” she hissed, yanking her arm away. The cold-burning fury in her voice made Min flinch, as though it had been aimed at her.
But her father ignored his wife, looking instead toward the waiting guards. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded. There was a breathless moment, and then the courtyard gates parted with the sonorous wail of iron.
“The ceremony has begun,” the emperor said.
CHAPTER 6
The Betrothal Ceremony
Lu’s cousin wore a broad, handsome smile when the guards opened the gate, but it curdled into a scowl the moment he saw her. There were no gaps in his teeth, Lu noted. They must have replaced the missing ones with porcelain.
The Hana had had wedding traditions of their own, but those of the Hu were known and practiced far and wide through the empire since their conquest. Set could hardly fail to notice she was draped in scarlet when she should have worn gray and black. Undoubtedly, Set and his advisers had rehearsed the steps of the ceremony so frequently in the past month that he could recite them in his sleep. But they hadn’t taught him what to do should his bride refuse him, had they? A look of doubt crossed his face, swelling into panic.