Page 60 of The Dragon's Promise

I spoke over him, firmly. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

I had underestimated just how pleased my family would be to see Takkan at dinner. From the moment he was announced at the emperor’s door, my brothers started grinning from ear to ear.

It was clear Takkan had gotten to know my family while I’d been in Ai’long. When Father wasn’t looking, Reiji welcomed him with a slap on the back, and Yotan set a wooden cup brimming with rice wine in his palm.

“Drink up,” said Yotan. “Though not too fast. We wouldn’t want you tottering about drunk at your first family dinner, would we?”

Takkan choked on his breath, and I raised my sleeve to hide a laugh. I could count on Yotan to lighten any mood.

You’ll be fine, I mouthed to Takkan. It took all my restraint not to reach for his hand and squeeze it.

He was wearing blue—his family’s color, and the color I loved most on him. A simple linen jacket hugged his broad shoulders, and I didn’t know how, but the black-corded belt around his waist made him look rugged and scholarly at the same time. The “rustic ensemble,” as Yotan would have described it, confirmed that Takkan had spent no time observing the court fashions. Any other lord would have decked himself in silk and jade and gold for dinner with the emperor, but I doubted that had even occurred to Takkan. He was probably more concerned about the ink stains smudging the pads of his fingers. They were ever present, even when I’d known him in Iro, though fainter than I’d ever seen tonight. I wondered how long he’d scrubbed at them before dinner.

“Welcome, Takkan,” Father said, addressing the kneeling young lord.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“For the first time I can remember, Shiori is not late. I trust I have you to thank for that.”

“You do, Father,” I answered for Takkan. I hoped my cheeky response hid how nervous I was. “And you ought to thank the chefs too. I heard they were serving steamed eggs and duck?”

Indeed they were.

After my journey to Ai’long, I would have been content with a simple bowl of rice and soup. But an astounding array of dishes arrived: bean curd that melted on the tongue like liquid silk, steamed eggs as fragrant and yellow as summer lotus blossoms, and roasted duck that was both tender and crispy, with a savory sauce that I drizzled over my rice.

If only I could enjoy the meal without everyone teasing me about Takkan’s presence. Even Wandei, who usually minded his own business, waggled his eyebrows in my direction every chance he got.

Reluctantly, I set down my bowl and cleared my throat. “Father asked me this morning whether I would like to have a betrothal ceremony again with Bushi’an Takkan.” My voice trembled. “I should, very much…before Reiji has to leave for A’landi.” I glanced at Takkan. “But I understand if he should wish to wait, given that his family is in Iro.”

A smile perched on Takkan lips. “With you, Shiori, I’ve learned that it’s best not to wait.”

My brothers hid their laughter behind raised cups, but for once I didn’t glare at them. I smiled too.

“It’s settled, then,” said Father. “I’ve already asked High Priest Voan to select a date. The ninth of this month appears the most auspicious.”

That was only three days away! I settled into my seat, the smile on my face quickly losing luster. I should have been happy. I wanted to be.

But I kept gazing at the empty space beside Father, where Raikama would have sat, and my unfulfilled promise gnawed at me. Takkan knew I still had the pearl, but I hadn’t told him—or anyone—that I had to leave for Lapzur.

“To Lord Bushi’an and Shiori,” Andahai was saying, raising his cup. “May your strands be knotted from this life to the next. I wish you every happiness.”

Reiji seconded the toast. “And what a relief that the attention is off me,” he added. “All week we’ve been celebrating my marriage to a paper princess.”

“Yes, and hoping for your sake that she’s as pretty as she looks in the painting,” Hasho joked.

Reiji snorted, but he downed his cup in one gulp nonetheless.

I lifted my cup of wine to my lips and drank slowly. I’d never loved rice wine, and this was particularly bitter, like chewing on a handful of raw tea leaves.

Then it began to burn.

I spat my wine back into the cup, but the poison traveled fast. A vicious pain lanced through my chest, and I began to choke, blood draining from my face. The wine cup slipped from my hand and clattered on the tiled floor.

The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, my cheek pressed against the cold tile.

The world swayed as footsteps rushed toward me. My brothers—all six of them—were at my side, their faces blurred into one.

“Poison!” Hasho was crying.

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