Yan Yue sighed wistfully, her chin propped up on one hand as Lin Xiulan combed her hair. She gave Yue an arch look through the mirror on the vanity in front of them.

  “Yue, sweetie, if you keep sighing like that people are going to think you’re unhappy about getting married.”

  “Of all the traditions to observe, why should we be separated before the wedding? I didn’t get engaged to spend less time with my beloved.”

  Xiulan snorted and shook her head. The hair combing ritual wasn’t usually so casual, but they’d done the more ‘ritualy’ parts already, and Yue’s hair was still slightly damp from purifying herself in the spring at the mountain’s peak. It had also been thoroughly straightened, but the gentle strokes of the comb through her hair were comforting.

  It reminded her of when her mother would do the same for her as a child. No doubt she was doing so for Yoshika at that very moment. Strictly speaking, it should have been Long Xiaofan taking that role for both of them, as the oldest female ancestor of the bride, but they’d had to make concessions on account of the fact that there were two brides. Beyond that, it simply wasn’t politic to have a foreign emissary representing Qin’s side of the union.

  She’d brought it on herself, but Yue couldn’t help sighing at the idea that even marrying another woman for love hadn’t been enough for her to escape the indelible politics of it all. That elicited another giggle from Xiulan.

  “You really are quite smitten, aren’t you? I feel bad for Wei’er and poor Yi—those boys never had a chance, did they?”

  Xiulan herself was another concession. The matronly figures on Yoshika’s side were all varying degrees of ‘inauspicious’ which really just meant politically inexpedient—though Yue would have absolutely loved to see the looks on the elders’ faces at being made to bow to Ienaga Yumi, or better yet, Lee Jung. Instead, as someone who’d been living there since its founding, and properly venerable of age, Lin Xiulan stepped up to represent Jiaguo as a suitably auspicious lady to perform the ritual.

  Yue wasn’t embarrassed in the slightest by her teasing, however. She was far beyond that by now.

  “I am, yes, and I’ve been a fool not to see it for so long. Worse than a fool!”

  “Oh, dear, it’s said that love makes fools of us all. You needn’t be so harsh on yourself.”

  “I am not being harsh, simply honest. I’ve lived my entire life swaddled in the lies and illusions I craft for myself and others, pretending to be someone else. I’m done with such fantasies and deceptions. No more will I hide within the false worlds I create for myself—I will bring my truth into this world, and damn anyone who tries to deny me.”

  Xiulan paused her brushing to lean forward and wrap Yue in a gentle hug from behind.

  “Ah, are you sure it’s not too late to adopt you as my daughter? Where were you and Yoshika a thousand years ago?”

  Yue squeezed Xiulan’s arms in return and smiled apologetically.

  “I’m sorry for not being born sooner. I’m very glad to have met you, though, and I hope to carry your vision into the future. If not a mother, I’d be honored if we could consider each other—”

  She smirked, reminded of one of Yoshika’s—particularly Lee Jia’s—quirks.

  “—sisters.”

  Xiulan covered her mouth and laughed melodically, grinning like a cat as she returned to brushing Yue’s hair.

  “Sisters, eh? I like that. Little sister Yue, you make this old lady feel like a young girl again.”

  “By the Emperor, why in the world is your hair so long, Yoshika?”

  Yoshika winced at Long Chunhua’s complaint as the older woman laboriously plaited her very long hair into a ceremonial style that skirted the traditions of Qin, Goryeo, and Yamato, without quite leaning entirely into any of them. She was surprised that Yue’s mother was knowledgeable enough about foreign styles to pull that off, but apparently keeping track of fashions across the continent was something of a hobby. She was even a long-distance patron of Madame Myeong, the eccentric Goryeon seamstress that Eui’s mother had a one-sided rivalry with.

  She felt a bit bad about how much of a task doing her hair had turned out to be for Chunhua. In Yoshika’s true body, her hair fell nearly down to her ankles when worn loose, and though it was supernaturally free of tangles, her future mother-in-law had needed to enlist the aid of several servants to hold Yoshika’s hair like a train as she performed the pre-wedding rituals.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Chunhua took to the challenge with aplomb, aside from a few gripes, so Yoshika didn’t feel too bad. Besides, she still didn’t like Yue’s mother much.

  “My apologies again, mother-in-law. It wasn’t really a conscious decision—our hair just kind of ended up like that when we embodied our spirit form.”

  The older woman sighed dramatically.

  “I’m not your mother yet. It’s the colors that are the most vexing. Black, white, and red? At least the red is only near the bottom, so it can hang separately, but it’s hardly appropriate for the self-proclaimed empress of the southern continent to look like she dyes her hair. Have you considered dyeing it black?”

  Judgemental seemed to be Chunhua’s default mode. Yoshika declined to mention that she was not, in fact, self-proclaimed in any sense of the word, but the accusation still needled her. It also did not help that she could so blithely suggest hair dye in the same breath that she admonished the appearance of its use.

  “Even in Qin’s traditions, spiritual embodiment is supposed to be a reflection of the true self, free of masks or embellishments. Hiding any part of that would defeat the purpose and go against the morality preached by your own emperor.”

  “Yes, well, he’s not here right now, is he? You’ll find that among those who purport to represent that morality, the appearance of loyalty and piety are far more valuable than the real thing.”

  “That hadn’t escaped my notice. My tails aren’t in the way, are they?”

  To emphasize her point, Yoshika consciously shifted her tails further to the side, away from where Chunhua was working behind her. It was a little difficult, since she had nine of them and they weren’t normally limbs that required her active attention.

  Yue’s mother shook her head and placed another pin, artfully holding a braid of hair in place.

  “Not at all, though I must admit that the fiery ones do make me slightly nervous.”

  “Oh, those are harmless. After our last tribulation, the Soulfire changed to something gentler. Your soul won’t be damaged by touching them.”

  Chunhua gave her a flat look that said in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t helping. Yoshika smiled apologetically and extended one of them to within arm’s reach, the scintillating flames of the tail flickering gently to illuminate the room in rainbow hues.

  “No, really—see for yourself. I promise on my sisters that it won’t hurt you.”

  As oaths went it was a slightly odd one, but Chunhua took it in the spirit it was given and reached out tentatively to touch the ghostly flames of Yoshika’s tail. It was an odd feeling for Yoshika—the fiery tails had no substance, but she could feel Chunhua’s hand within it, the gentle fires engulfing it in a warm embrace.

  Yue’s mother turned her hand over and stared at it in wonder for a moment before withdrawing her fingers and furrowing her brow.

  “My...that may be an even more dangerous power than the one it replaced.”

  Not quite the reaction Yoshika expected, but it didn’t sound like an indictment, even coming from Chunhua, so she cocked her head curiously.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s—hard to put into words. Most wouldn’t be equipped to make sense of it, even at the xiantian level, but my ancestral techniques give me a different perspective, especially when it comes to mystical flames.”

  “The ones you didn’t pass on to Yue because her father told you not to?”

  She scoffed.

  “Do not try to judge me, Empress. I did what I must, and I have no regrets. But yes. I can feel the remnants of your power within my soul even now. As you say, it’s not harmful—nothing is being changed or subverted. Instead it’s...filling the gaps. Mending old wounds and salving painful scars. Even as we speak, I feel a sense of peace with the death of my son that I haven’t known for a decade.”

  “That—doesn’t sound like a bad thing?”

  Chunhua pursed her lips and sighed, returning to work on Yoshika’s hair as she spoke.

  “It is and it isn’t. On one hand, pain serves a purpose. Guilt, regret, anger, shame—these are not emotions entirely without merit, for all that they can also be the source of deviations, heart demons, and in the worst cases, demonic transformation.

  “Yet, I cannot say that it’s an unpleasant feeling to be momentarily freed from those burdens. I dare say that if a power like this had surfaced a thousand years ago...well, you and Lin Xiulan may have your opinions on the matter, but let us simply say that there is a reason dual cultivation was banned throughout the empire. Or did you think my husband learned True Awakening of the Dragon’s Soul—a Yin art—from a jade slip?”

  “Ah...”

  And what else was there to say to that? History was more muddy and complicated than it seemed. On one hand, the decree had led to the dissolution of the healing cults, disempowered Yin-aligned cultivators—who were mostly women, it had to be said—and perpetuated millennia of discrimination and exploitation. On the other, it had been a decision made to protect those same women from the depravations of men like Yan De, who would stop at nothing in their pursuit of power—especially if it was as simple as tearing it away from someone weaker.

  That didn't change the fact that it had done more harm than good. Among those with means, it had done little to curb the exploitation, and the law branded her as an amoral demon just for existing—even if she had been granted an exception. Still, she could at least see where a perspective like Chunhua’s came from, though she disagreed.

  With a long-suffering sigh, Yoshika cast such thoughts aside.There’d be time enough to contemplate the social ills of the world later. She was getting married! For just one brief moment—no more than a day—she could set aside her endless burdens and just be happy. Peace, politics, and the fate of the world could wait.

  For one day, tomorrow, Yoshika’s world would consist of only her and Yan Yue. The wait felt like an eternity.

  !

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