Present

Before the feast could begin, the customary signing of the Book of the Empire had to be completed. The chieftain and a small group of representatives from the Wungs came before the raised White Jade Dais, where the Emperor’s royal table presided, and carved their seal into a steelwood panel. This minor act officially ended the enmity between all Wung villages and the Empire, recognized all tribal territory as falling within the Empire’s borders, and pledged a tithe of grain and tribute of soldiers from each of their villages. As the commander of the Emperor’s army and the Empire’s greatest known Master of the Living Blades, Shingti accepted the finished panel and added it to the Book, clamping the thick rings that bound it back into place.

“Brave warriors of the Wung tribe,” the first princess said in a proud, clear voice that filled the feasting hall, “be welcomed by your new brothers and sisters.”

Koida sat at her father’s left hand, watching this formality unfold. Like most of the envoys from the peoples her father and sister had subjugated and united, the Wungs seemed a combination of sullen and terrified. Not long ago, Yoichi had confided in Koida that on his travels, he’d heard barbarian tribes claim that the Emperor Hao was a cannibal who ate his enemies’ hearts in arcane ceremonies designed to multiply the strength of his Ro. When she asked Yoichi whether that would work, Yoichi had laughed and said not to try it, for “the human heart carries diseases worse than all other organs combined.”

Once the official business was complete, and the music and feasting and drinking begun, the Wung envoy began to relax. They clumped together around a far table near the corner of the hall, talking sullenly amongst themselves and glaring at any Empire nobility who strayed too close. They didn’t turn down any of the Sun Palace’s famous blood orange wine, however.

Shingti handed off the Book to an official and began to make her way back to the dais, but group after group of courtiers stopped her. Now that the first princess was back in the castle, everyone wanted her ear, but Shingti brushed them aside easily in favor of drinking with her guard.

Servants bowed up the dais to fill the plate and cup of the Emperor, then Koida’s. One discreetly removed Shingti’s place setting and bowed back down the stairs to find where the first princess had landed.

Until the Emperor’s meal was finished, it was forbidden to approach the dais without being summoned, which meant Koida had him to herself for the time being.

“Your daughter is glad you’re home, Father,” Koida said, switching from the formal tones she’d used during the return ceremony to the loving familial speech. She leaned over and pecked his cheek quick as a chickadee.

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This close and without the blood-orange armor covering most of his face and body, her father’s age showed in the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth, the thick wine barrel belly, and in his graying beard and warrior’s knot. These signs of passing time caused Koida no distress, however. For as long as she could remember, her father’s hair had been graying, but the gray had never quite been able to overpower the black. The vigor in his purple eyes and the power in his weapon techniques were all one needed to experience to know this man would outlast the Horned Serpent River itself.

“Your father is glad to rest his old bones and see his youngest child again.” Emperor Hao squeezed Koida’s hand, then patted it roughly. “She seems to have grown even more beautiful while I was away.”

Koida suppressed a wince. The linctus the alchemist had spread on her knuckles that morning had worn off, and she hadn’t had time to reapply the gritty green gel in her rush to dress for the return ceremony.

A boisterous laugh went up from the crowd below. Shingti at the center of her Dragonfly Guard. One hugely muscled man reached over and pounded her on the back while others clutched their stomachs or shouted rude insults. Shingti pointed at one man and said something, then pretended to preen and admire her reflection in a cup of wine. This sent many of them into fits of laughter while the offended party shook his fist at her. He, too, was smiling, however. It was clear these men saw Shingti as one of their own rather than a fragile ward as Koida’s guard saw her.

“I’ve been keeping up with my training,” Koida told her father, wanting him to approve and simultaneously feeling small and stupid for trying to curry his favor. “I nearly landed a backfist on Master Lao this morning.”

The Emperor took a long sip of wine. “That’s good, daughter, but have you given any further consideration to what Eunuch Ba-Qu said? I would rather my child leave off the studies of the Path than have her harmed trying to strain toward an advancement she can never achieve.”

Koida tugged her sleeve down farther over her bruised hand. “But even if I can never advance, learning the techniques—”

“Aha!” Emperor Hao clapped his hands together with delight. “The poets are starting!”

Fighting hard not to show the twinge of bitterness at his dismissal of her, Koida fell silent as the lanterns around the room were dimmed and a single bright light shined on a set of opaque shades at the far end of the room. Her father often did this when she disagreed with him, changing the subject and then pretending he couldn’t hear her appeals. Arguing further would accomplish nothing but to make him sullen and spiteful. Resigned, Koida took a deep drink of her wine and watched a performer take his place behind the shade.

The next hour went to the court’s poets and the shadow actors as they recounted the most harrowing tales from Emperor Hao’s Heroic Record. After this came the Record of Shingti, Dragonfly of the Battlefield, followed by the account of the Wandering Hero, cousin Yoichi.

Wedged between the sagas of the valiant offspring the Exalted Emperor had produced was a short song called the Beauty of Koida, Lilac of the Valley, a polite attempt at pretending that she had contributed anything useful to the warrior dynasty.

Koida wished they would have forgotten her altogether.