The Girl King (The Girl King #1)(21)
Tradition dictated that for the main course they would sup on the tusked stag killed by the groom-to-be at the Betrothal Ceremony. But then, tradition had dictated quite a number of things, all of which her sister had chosen to disregard, leaving them short a tusked stag.
Down the table, her cousin sat at her father’s side with all the handsome, easy grace of any wealthy young man at court. But Min could see a tension in his back, a wariness in his gray eyes. Min had felt a stab of pity for him; Set had clearly forgotten in their time apart that when it came to Lu, everyone had to play according to her rules. On another day, the thought might have been fond; today it felt sour, simmering.
The entertainment switched to a large band of musicians that included—horrifyingly—four different drummers. People flooded onto the floor to dance, leaving the dais almost empty.
Beside his wronged nephew, the emperor seemed if not oblivious to the tension, then certainly not guilty for it. He watched the people before them with studied attention, as though he were seeing dancing for the very first time. Min wondered if he was beginning to regret the promise he had made to allow Lu to compete for the throne.
As for Lu herself, she appeared to be the only truly happy person in the courtyard. Her sister stood by the floor, watched the dancing with a pleased kind of impatience, as though she were enjoying herself, but also looking forward to whatever was next. The trace of a smile stained her mouth like the plum wine she was swigging straight from the carafe.
Min was struck then with fury, hard as a hand across her face. Anger at the sheer unfairness of it all. Lu did as she pleased, while Min donned a heavy mask of politesse over her pain. For what? The Betrothal Ceremony of which Lu had made a public mockery? It wasn’t just herself Min thought of: Set had worked so hard to get where he was, only to lose that to the whims of an arrogant girl. And what of all the preparations by the ammas and nunas, the work by the palace staff Min had never even met or seen? Even their mother, who had made the day such an ordeal for Min, deserved better.
She watched her sister lean over to whisper what was undoubtedly a bawdy joke that had her nunas biting back barely stifled laughter behind their hands. It was too much. Her sister’s lean, strong body and that incorrigible swagger with which she carried herself.
Min knew she was being petulant, but that chagrin burned away at her insides, too. What if she was right? She could be right. She could allow herself that much—
“Little sister!” Min started at Lu’s voice in her ear, sudden and soaked with wine. Her sister threw her strong arms about Min’s neck in a crushing embrace. “Why so dour? Today is a good day!”
She hadn’t even had the chance to tell Lu about her woman’s blood, she realized. The thought left her feeling almost as guilty as she was sad. It seemed there must have been a time when she would’ve told Lu before anyone else. Hadn’t there? Perhaps sometime tonight, when they were alone, she could find a moment to confide—
“She has her first woman’s blood,” Snowdrop blurted from her station at the back of the dais.
“Your woman’s blood?” Lu’s head whipped back toward her, her voice perhaps a bit louder than she’d intended. “Well, this is a good day! Congratulations! Where is your wine—why have you no wine? We must drink to your new life as a woman! Snowdrop, hand me that cup there for my sister . . . that’s a girl . . .”
Min’s face flushed crimson and she whirled back at Snowdrop, wishing with her whole heart she could strangle the little handmaiden. She wanted to scream, wanted to reprimand this foolish nuna, show that she was a woman, that her sister was not the only princess capable of fulfilling her role and commanding respect, but the anger welled up inside her throat, choking off her words. It felt like a living thing, hot and animal and roiling, surging forth toward Snowdrop—
Oblivious, the nuna shuffled over and proffered the cup of plum wine to Min. “Here you are, Small Princess—”
Her words broke off into a scream as the cup in her hands shattered. Pink wine splashed the nuna’s face, the front of her robes, and bits of ceramic caught in her hair.
Lu cursed, brushing drops of wine from her face. “What on . . . Snowdrop, did you drop it?”
Snowdrop was already blubbering in shock, stammering apologies through her tears. “N-no! It . . . exploded! Right in my hands!” she squealed.
“It must have been cracked . . . oh gods,” Lu cursed again. “Snowdrop, you’re bleeding.” She pulled a handkerchief from her robes and held it to the red spot welling on the girl’s palm. “Go see the court physician,” Lu told her. “Have him clean and bind it.”
Min watched the scene before her as though from a distance. When the cup broke, she hadn’t screamed like Snowdrop or jerked away in surprise like Lu. It wasn’t that she had been expecting it, exactly. More that it seemed only right that it had happened. The natural progression of things. She felt oddly calm, watching Snowdrop walk off weeping with Butterfly in tow.
“That girl is an idiot,” Lu said flatly, when the nuna was out of earshot.
Min’s lips quirked into a smile. “I know.”
Lu cast a searching look around the table. “Well, we should still drink to you—there must be an extra cup around here . . .”
Min leaned forward and snatched the carafe from her sister’s hand, taking a deep swig and relishing the look of surprise on Lu’s face. She smacked her lips in satisfaction.