The Girl King (The Girl King #1)(31)

“I told you you’re going to be the first head amma of the first empress in our history, and I intend to keep that promise,” Lu said with exaggerated severity.

“I believe you.” The smile slipped from Hyacinth’s face again, and she ran a hand thoughtfully over her tightly braided hair, dropping the hood of her robe. The moonlight bisected her face so that one half seemed to glow, while the other was shrouded in shadow. “A messenger came while you were in the bath,” she said hesitantly. “Your father—”

Lu’s chest clenched. “What’s happened? Is he all right?”

Hyacinth nodded, raising a placating hand. “He’s—well, he had one of his spells this morning, but the physicians are attending to him. He’s resting. But he won’t be able to join the hunt.”

Lu felt her body go slack. “I should go to him,” she said.

“I thought you’d say that,” Hyacinth sighed. “The physicians insist he just needs rest and quiet. They said to check with them after the hunt.”

“We’re not returning for days,” Lu protested.

“Your mother’s with him,” Hyacinth said, as though that were meant to be reassuring. Lu gave her a look and the nuna smiled wryly. “I know. But the physicians say he’ll be fine. He’s not going anywhere.”

Lu frowned, then nodded. The last thing she wanted right now was to see her mother.

“Listen,” Hyacinth said. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. I know it’s poor timing, but I was thinking I ought to make a visit home soon. It’s been months.”

It often felt as if Hyacinth was more a sister to her than Min. It was easy to forget that she had a family of her own.

When nunas were chosen, they were assigned new names by the judges, based on their personalities and attributes. Over their years together, Lu had learned their birth names, but she only ever remembered Hyacinth’s: Inka, of Family Cui.

“Wonin’s grown so big I scarcely feel I can call him my little brother anymore,” Hyacinth murmured, almost to herself.

“He looks nearly a man now,” Lu agreed, recalling the lanky youth she’d seen in court.

“I know—” Hyacinth broke off as Min appeared farther up the path, flanked by her nunas. As they approached, Snowdrop tried and failed to stifle a yawn. It was catching; Min followed, covering her mouth hurriedly with her sleeve.

“Good morning!” Lu called out. “What brings you here at this fine hour?”

Min blinked back at her with distracted gray eyes, starting belatedly. “Sister,” she squeaked as they drew closer. Her nunas curtsied. Min’s gaze lowered swiftly, almost guiltily. It occurred to Lu that she hadn’t seen her since the Betrothal Feast. Had Min been avoiding her? She did that sometimes when Lu angered their mother, as though worried she might contract the empress’s ire by proximity.

“You look very beautiful,” her sister mumbled politely, gesturing at Lu’s deep, blood-colored robes, flecked with embellishments of gold thread and turquoise stones.

Gods, sometimes Min spoke to her as though she were a stranger.

“I know. You, on the other hand, look nervous,” Lu countered. She’d meant it playfully, but the words came out sharper than she’d intended. “You’re not the one being tested here, you do realize?”

“Mother says I have to stand with her while we see you and Se—Lord Set off,” Min said meekly, as though that explained anything. “There will be a lot of people.”

“And how is our dear mother?” Lu asked blandly. “I haven’t seen her in days. Can’t imagine why.” Behind her, Hyacinth snorted, and Butterfly did a poor job of hiding a smile. Instead of laughing though, Min frowned.

“Oh, Mother’s been in a terrible mood—”

“I’m sure she has.” Lu grinned and lowered her voice, “Do you think she’s more likely to murder me or Father first?”

“Don’t say that,” Min mumbled vaguely. “She cares about you . . .” Her voice trailed off, as though even she couldn’t believe her own words.

Lu felt a familiar pinprick of annoyance. Sisters, she was fairly certain, were supposed to present a unified front against their parents. Min acted more like a twice-shot, over-burdened messenger, running ragged between Lu and their mother, trying to keep the peace. Their mother was a tyrant, true, but if only her sister would stand up for herself now and again.

“It was a joke,” Lu said, nudging her sister in the ribs with her elbow. Min flinched, and Lu bit back a sigh. Her sister was only a year younger than her, but sometimes—often—she still acted like a timid child. “Jokes are funny, Min. You can laugh. And don’t worry, I won’t do anything to upset Mother further, so long as she doesn’t try anything with me, all right?”

Min made a vaguely agreeable sound in her throat. A breeze washed over them, scattering white jasmine petals from the vines overhead. Min winced as one kissed her eyelid.

“Do you want to walk to the gate together?” she asked.

Lu glanced back at Hyacinth. The handmaiden shrugged. “Oleander and Siringa are still dressing.”

“No,” Lu told her sister. “You and your nunas go on. We’ll come soon enough.”