The sun dawns over a glorious day. The court is abuzz, now packed to the brim with nobles and warlords from across the empire trying to curry favor with each other, the Emperor, and today, above all, the Eighth Prince. If one was to calculate the amount of wealth and power concentrated in the capital this day, they would find a spectacular sum.
I'm helped down from the bright red palanquin by two of my soon-to-be sisters-in-law, Princess Bailian and Princess Nanlu. The path leading to the Yongle hall is lined with various officials, generals, nobles, and scholars, each dressed in their finest clothing. I barely notice them, my vision obscured by a thick full-face veil and my mind fixated on what is about to happen. Semi-conscious, I let the princesses guide me to the inner hall. Through the veil, I can vaguely see the outlines of a man I assume to be the emperor. A light pressure from my left indicates that I'm in the position to kneel. There, with my knees on the cold stone floor, I wait.
I do not hear my husband-to-be approach. I smell him. He smells like sweet roses and lotuses: a perfume. Yet underneath this saccharine scent, I detect something more familiar. The metallic tang of blood assaults my nostrils. A single thought passes through my mind: home. The smell of the battlefield, of a freedom now gone, causes all my apprehensions to melt away like snow come the advent of spring. My brain screams danger; a man coming to his wedding reeking of blood does not spell for a healthy marriage. Nonetheless, my heart does not listen.
What happens next is a blur. A Daoist priest comes and speaks some prayers while the Emperor makes a speech. Before I realize it, I'm standing, moments away from the final steps of a process that will eternally bind me to a man whose face I've yet to see. I feel a pair of hands find the hem of my veil. They radiate an unearthly coldness that chills my very bones; it takes everything I have to suppress a shiver.
The veil comes off in a single swift motion. Thesudden light causes me to squint for a few seconds. Then I realize it is notlight but the blinding white of my husband's face. He is horrendously pale,whiter than snow, as unblemished as the angels. Before I can think, a handappears around my waist, pulling me towards this very incarnation of winterwith a titanic force. Another arctic tendril forcefully but gently grips the back of myhead. Our lips touch for the briefest of moments. Cheers break out, but I'm notpaying attention. And so, two have become one.
YOU ARE READING
The Foreign Empress
Fiksi SejarahA cold and potentially fatal marriage, an imperial court embroiled in assassination and conflict, a hidden conspiracy that could shatter not just a four-century-long peace but the empire itself. In the midst of it all, a girl whose struggle to survi...
