The mask on my face still smelled fresh, having only been carved that morning. The black coat, draped over my head and shoulders, had been tied closed, as if hiding the sight of my trailing white robes from the rest of the island. I waited at the gate for the great temple on the island's hill, Mother and Father on either side of me, Komo and Hotaki before me. A sort of glow had settled over the island, lighting the clouds high above us: lanterns hung from the trees around the temple, giving me a feeling of warmth, though the freezing wind bit through my robes.

In my hands, I carried the doves' cage; the two of them were huddled together in the cold. I was silent, waiting for the sound of the drums, waiting for the gate to open, waiting for Komo and Hotaki to lead me forward. I could see the top of the temple from where I stood, a flickering light within it.

I remembered the day of Ashiro's marriage to his sixth wife, how I had watched the procession of boats make their way to the island, and how I could see the light of the temple's tower from my balcony, and it had lasted all through the night and into the morning.

I wondered if there was some little girl back on the mainland standing on her balcony, watching the sparkle of lights on the water, wondering if some day she might make it to the island. Perhaps that same little girl might be standing on a balcony only a year later, looking down at Ashiro as he carried my ashes in a wooden box, looking down at him as he reached up and caught the lily that fell from her fingers...

The single beat of many drums together broke me free from my thoughts. The gate opened, the drums sounding again, and Hotaki and Komo started forward. I lifted my feet, carrying myself forward. My feet no longer felt heavy; they felt almost too light for the weight of the robes on me, and I placed my feet as if I was floating, the ground beneath me like the clouds. The drums beat together, matching my step. I faced ahead, not looking at the people who lined the walk to the steps of the altar, instead staring between Komo and Hotaki at the stairs. Lord Ashiro's soldiers lined the stairs, and as I lifted my eyes, I could see Ashiro standing before the altar, his head bowed. I knew it was him, even though he wore a mask, because of how he held himself. He wore white as well, looking almost like a ghost standing beside the priest.

Komo and Hotaki stopped before the steps, bowed, and parted, standing on either side. I swallowed, took a deep breath, and placed my foot on the first step, my parents holding the train of my robes as we ascended the stairs to the altar. The doves in their cage started to fret, cooing worriedly.

After what seemed to be an eternity, I reached the altar, taking my place next to the it, facing Ashiro as I handed the cage of doves to the priest. My heart did not pound; I felt empty inside, numb as I struggled to grasp the reality of what was happening. Mother and Father took their places on either side of me, removing the coat from me. The chill of the air hit my bare neck, my face where the mask didn't cover the skin.

The drums ended their rhythm, and a frozen silence settled over the temple, broken only by the faint rasp of my breath behind the mask. The priest, standing at the foot of the altar, reached inside his sleeve, removing a scroll. I lifted my gaze a little, letting my eyes wander to Ashiro, falling on the painted wood of his mask. I studied the character painted on his forehead—zho, the curling character for those about to be wed. It was on the forehead of my mask as well.

Teku began to read from the scroll, his voice a deep chant as he began the prayer for the ceremony. I felt a shiver going through me as his voice carried over the temple, and I had to take a deep breath to calm it. My face had already begun to feel hot and stuffy behind the mask, and I once again thought of the funeral.

I was still staring at Ashiro's mask—as I did so, I watched his eyes, cloaked in shadow from the mask, lift up, and they locked with mine.

I have seen those eyes before.

I was dimly aware of Teku finishing the prayer, and he rolled the scroll and tucked it back into his sleeve, raising his arms above our heads. Ashiro and I bowed, and I tried to keep from trembling as Teku began the blessing.

"Great Creator," he began, "we come before you on this evening, to ask your blessing over your two children joined together in marriage, before your sacred presence."

Ashiro and I straightened, and Teku folded his hands together. I swallowed the lump in my throat as Ashiro gave me a small bow before stepping forward. I straightened my posture, and closed my eyes as Ashiro lifted his hands, reaching around me, finding the ribbon of the mask. I could feel his sleeves touch my neck; my first impulse was to shy away, but I kept myself composed. As he loosened the ribbon and grasped the mask, I could feel his fingers trace over my face, lightly, like the kiss of the wind, and I found myself wondering if his touch was deliberate.

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Cold air stung my face; I opened my eyes to see him handing my mask to Teku, who bowed his head and placed the mask on the altar. It was my turn—with my heart dancing wildly in my chest, I bowed, stepped forward, reached up with shaking hands, fumbling for the knot of his mask ribbons. I found them and quickly untied them, taking the mask in my hands, making sure I did not touch Ashiro's face the way he had mine. I handed Teku the mask and turned back to Ashiro.

He gave me a small smile; I returned it, but the action felt wooden and stiff. Ashiro and I faced Teku, who brought forth a bowl of pine ashes, and at his signal, we knelt before him. Teku bowed once, reached into the bowl, and sprinkled the ashes over our heads.

"Formed from the ashes of the sacred fire of Agi-a, man was," Teku said, "and in the end, we all return to ashes." He knelt before us, and once more, he stuck his finger in the ashes. He reached to Ashiro, who bowed his head, and drew zho on the bare skin beneath Ashiro's hairline. "By this sign, by this promise, you, Inugoya Ashiro"—here, he turned to me and drew zho on my forehead, the coarse ash making my skin prickle—"and you, Matamura Yori, are bound together before the Creator, until the day you shall return to ash."

Teku made a motion to Father, who came forward with a small scroll. Father bowed to the priest before handing him the scroll and returning to his place beside Mother. I found that my hands, tucked into my sleeves, were folded together so tightly that my nails were digging into my skin. This was the final stage of the marriage, the scroll being the document that guaranteed Father's approval towards the marriage, symbolizing his handing me over to the possession of my husband.

Teku retrieved and inkwell and brush from the altar, setting them before Ashiro before unrolling the scroll and handing it to him. In a few seconds of tense silence, Ashiro signed his name on the document, the character for his family joining the character for my family. He breathed on the ink to dry it before returning the scroll and the brush to Teku.

"Inugoya Ashiro," Teku said, standing and motioning for us to stand as well, "you have taken Matamura Yori into your household to become your wife. May your days with your wife be many and blessed." Teku then turned to me, and for a moment, I was sure that concern came over his face. I must have looked ill, and I felt faint, but I kept myself on my feet for the sake of my family—and the sake of all those at the temple. "Matamura Yori," he said, "you are now Inugoya Yori. May your days with your husband be fruitful."

Fruitful. I glanced at Ashiro's white figure, the emptiness inside me now replaced with the weight of my sinking spirits. I should not have been so foolish as to have asked the Creator to keep me from a marriage with Itsua. Now I was the wife of a man I hardly knew, a prisoner on his island.

Teku took the cage, holding it before us as he opened the door. Ashiro reached in, taking one of the doves gently in his hands, and handed the bird to me. He then took the other dove, and we turned, standing at the steps of the temple.

I gasped. From that place at the top of the temple stairs, I could see the crowd gathered for the wedding, holding their lanterns, a glow rising from them. But what caught my attention, what made my heart leap within me as I took in the sight, was the sea: hundreds of boats must have sat on the water, lanterns hanging from everywhere where someone could hang a lantern on the boat, creating a sea of glittering lights like swimming fireflies. I had never seen anything so lovely in my life, and as Ashiro and I released the doves, watching their white shapes vanish into the night, the crowd began to sing the wedding song. It was soft and quiet at first, but as more voices joined in, it swelled in volume and strength, a wave of voices rising and falling with the tide of the tune.

With the wedding song filling my ears, I turned to Ashiro, hoping to see at least some kind of love, or at least softness, in his face. But he was looking down at the crowd, his brows drawn together in an expression of something I could not name. Pain? Sadness? Anger? I could not tell. He had done this six times before; had he lost the lover's flame, the groom's initial joy at being joined with the woman of his dreams?

I doubted I was such woman. Ashiro and I began down the steps, and as we went down the walk through the crowd of singers, my feet had finally begun to ache, and my knees felt weak, to the point where I was afraid I would have collapsed.

Snow began to drift from the sky, landing on my head and shoulders like tiny pinpricks of the cold. My steps felt slower and heavier than before, and though the tune of the wedding song was light and joyful, the ground seemed to be grabbing me and pulling me down. Every breath was like a gulp of air that never reached my lungs, and my legs burned as if I carried a large weight upon my shoulders, clinging to my back, dragging behind me.

I tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other, but the further I walked, the more complicated the task seemed to become, until I could no longer lift my feet. I was dimly aware of my knees buckling under me, the ground seeming to fly up towards my face, the sound of a gasp coming from around me. Snowflakes filled my vision, a blur of white, the deep gray-purple of the sky-was I looking up? I tried to lift myself, but my arms would not move at my command, and my vision began to fade, slipping into darkness.

I thought I saw a bald child duck its head into the crowd of people...