“Yihei’an Qinnia,” I said. “Andahai’s fiancée.”
Andahai was supposed to have married her last autumn, mere weeks after Raikama had turned my brothers into cranes and sent us all away. Obviously, that wedding had been postponed.
I watched my brother and his betrothed. Their heads were tilted close, shoulders touching. This tender side of Andahai was new to me. Then again, I had been away for half a year.
Much had changed.
Including Father.
He’d aged during the time I’d been away. There were new lines on his brow, etched with a melancholy that hadn’t been there before.
I ached to see him, to speak to him and make him smile, but not once did he glance back at me. With every passing minute, my heart sank a little deeper. I hoped he wasn’t furious I had left—or disappointed.
Finally, a gong resonated across the hall, and my brothers scrambled back to join me, barraging me with an unprincely slew of hugs and questions.
Wandei, the concerned: “When did you get back, sister?”
Andahai, the eldest: “You should have told us you were coming back.”
Benkai, the thoughtful: “You look well.”
Hasho, the sincere: “You look different.”
Yotan, already focused on the irrelevant: “But what are you wearing?”
There were other queries in my brothers’ eyes too, secret ones concerning magic and Ai’long. But no one spoke them aloud. There’d be time for those questions later.
I peeked back at the A’landans and the ministers in the room. Polite smiles strained their expressions, similar to those of the sentinels at the beach when they’d first seen me.
“Did I sprout horns on my head while in Ai’long?” I murmured to Benkai. “Why is everyone staring?”
Benkai’s handsome face stretched to fit a smile. “You did just barge in on a state wedding, you know—after we told the A’landans you were in Gaijha, studying the Songs of Sorrow and the Epics of War and Duty.”
I balked. “You should have told them I was studying cookery. At least that would be somewhat believable.”
Benkai chuckled, and my other brothers merely smiled. Hasho, who had always been the worst at secrets, shifted his weight from foot to foot, looking uneasy. What weren’t they telling me?
“Late as usual, Shiori,” Andahai chided, but his stern eyes were smiling for once. “We expected you back months ago. You missed my wedding, but at least you didn’t miss Reiji’s.”
I should have guessed that Andahai had married while I was away, but still my mouth parted in surprise. “You’re married?”
“It was a small ceremony, within the one hundred days of Raikama’s death.” He pursed his lips. “I wanted to wait, but…but we didn’t know when you were coming back.”
Even without the explanation, I would have understood. I hadn’t known when I’d return, either. And from the looks of it, Father needed all the alliances he could get to protect Kiata.
“Allow me to reintroduce you to my wife, Princess Qinnia.”
Qinnia came timidly forward. Up close, she was very pale, and shadows clung to her cheeks. She looked like she’d lost weight recently. I bowed quickly before she noticed I was staring, and before making eye contact. It was the proper thing to do: as the crown princess, she now outranked me.
“Please, Shiori’anma, bowing isn’t necessary—”
“It’s my honor,” I said, bowing even more deeply. I rose with a grin. “And call me Shiori, please—I thank the Strands I won’t be the only princess of Kiata anymore. I suppose this means you can take my place in the morning prayers?”
“She’s joking,” Andahai reassured his wife.
I cleared my expression of mischief. “I’ve always wanted an older sister. Welcome to the family. Can you tell the twins apart yet?”
That made her smile. “As of last week. Yotan has a mole on his chin—and unlike Wandei, he’s constantly smiling.”
“Wandei also tends to squint when he’s looking in the distance,” added Reiji, finally joining us. “He spent too much time reading by candlelight when he was young.”
I hugged Reiji. When I let him go, I dusted off the sand I’d gotten on his ceremonial robes. “Where is your bride?” I asked.
“Still in A’landi. It’s a marriage by proxy.”
“You mean, she isn’t coming?”
Eyeing the A’landans remaining in the temple, Reiji explained in a hushed tone: “I’m to go to Jappor and marry the khagan’s daughter so we can establish peace.”
“You’ll be a hostage there!”
“I want to go,” said Reiji. “Andahai and Benkai have always upheld their duties. It’s time I did something useful too.”
There was no bitterness in my brother’s voice. Reiji’s tone was light, and I could tell he was being sincere. So why did his words make my heart feel heavy?
“When do you leave?” I asked.
Reiji didn’t get a chance to reply.
All six princes immediately stepped back into a line, bowing. Father was right behind me.
It took all my restraint to bow too and not look up. I hadn’t seen him since my brothers and I had been cursed. More than anything, I wanted to embrace him as I had my brothers, and answer the hundreds of questions he must have. But it was a good thing I held back.
“Months away without any word,” the emperor reproved, “then upon your return, you insolently disrupt a sacred ceremony. Shaming Kiata before A’landi’s envoys!”
My spirits deflated. “Father…”
“You will return to your chambers at once,” he said, turning for the shrine exit. “Attire yourself in something befitting an imperial princess, and await my visit. You have much to answer for, daughter.”
The sting of Father’s rebuke followed me all the way to my room, and I was quiet in Qinnia’s company. My new sister-in-law had insisted on walking with me, and she graciously filled the silence with anecdotes about what Andahai and my brothers had been up to while I was away. It was a kind gesture, and I warmed to her for it.
You should make friends with her, urged Kiki from inside my sleeve. She seems nice.
Not today. I wasn’t in the mood.
“Here we are,” Qinnia announced, sliding my doors open.
I stepped inside. In my memory, I’d only been away a week; I remembered precisely how I’d left my room. A mess, with towers of silk pillows beside my bed, and clothes and half-empty plates strewn across the floor. But everything had been tidied up and put away, even the tiny nook of cushions I’d made for Kiki. Ivory mourning sheets hung over my windows, and scrolls and prayer plaques hemmed my bed, wishing me safe passage to the afterlife.