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“So pretty…”
Ariya turns her head. Dry grass tickles her cheek.
Lying down next to her, the princess of Yuimankoku holds to the sky a crooked antler as white as her hair, profile outlined in vivid orange by the autumnal sunset. An ornate quiver filled with arrows has been discarded to the ground in favor of her new treasure.
“What’s it made of? Some kind of bone? It almost looks like limestone now.”
The princess’ lips curl up in delight. “Hm, some bone, yes, but lots of flesh and blood too when it’s still attached. Even when it dies and the deer sheds it, it’s full of tasty things for other animals. See, there’s traces of gnawing here!” She shifts to her side completely and points at one of the tines with enthusiasm. “Amazing, right?”
Ariya’s eyes dart between the antler and the soft curve of her nose. The fragrance of ripe fruit and of the incent used by priestesses to bless their hunters supplants the fresh smell of nearby woods. She’s so close, close enough that Ariya could just reach out and touch the healthy glow of her skin if she wanted to, so suddenly—and so fascinated by her find that the embarrassement radiating off Ariya seems to fly straight over her head.
“… It really is.”
“We didn’t catch anything, but honestly, this is a thousand times better! I can’t believe there were still some left from last year…” The princess grins. “You’re like a good luck charm, lady Iwanaga.”
A spark bounces inside Ariya’s chest, warm and painful. Her body has been doing that a lot lately.
It shouldn’t.
“Isn’t it a little misshapen, though? I don’t know if I’d call us lucky.”
“That makes it even more unique! I love it,” the princess assures, focused on her prize. The tips of her fingers gently brush over the bumps and notches marring it like she’s trying to burn them into her memory; Ariya has never seen anyone showing so much care for a cast-off, ugly remnant of the past before.
She wills herself to swallow the tangle in her throat and looks away.
The silvergrass around them sways under the wind. Many times she has admired their puddles of earthy colors from the privilege of higher viewpoints, but now, she doesn’t mind listening to their quiet melody from ground level. A dragonfly lands on one of the feathery clumps. Ariya holds her breath; if she moves, the moment will end.
“You can call me by my name, you know. Instead of… Iwanaga.”
Sharp red eyes bore into her, intensely alert, the antler all but forgotten. Ariya prays to the other gods her bony tail won’t start wagging.
“Then you should use mine as well!”
“I cannot do such a thing.”
“Why not?”
“Well, because you’re—” Ariya bites her cheek. She really had to open her greedy mouth, didn’t she? “—you’re a princess. I could never.”
“… But you’re one too?”
“It’s different. Every goddess out there gets the title. Mine is meaningless.”
If it did carry some sort of worth, she wouldn’t have been repudiated so coldly, if only to keep up appearances. If it did mean something, no one in their right mind would have ever granted it to her in the first place. Then Ariya would have been free to leave much, much sooner—not offered as her sister’s unwanted dowry.
The princess frowns, just like when she misses her target or when she is made to stay still at ceremonies and Ariya can only answer her calls for help with apologetical smiles. “It’s different, huh…”
She sits up, the precious antler snug against her chest; from behind her hunched shoulders Ariya can make her out turning it in her hands, pensive. The scent of tangerine is gone as fast as it had curled around Ariya’s senses.
“Lady Iwanaga. There’s no one else here… just you and me. I don’t have to be a princess right now.”
The pout seeps from her voice. Ariya has learnt in their surprisingly short time together how effective a weapon it can be: it fills her with the irresistible urge to satisfy the princess’ requests, give her what she wants to hear her lovely laugh again, no matter the price. A dreadful thing, really.
There’s no one else.
Ariya lets out a shaky, restrained sigh.
“… Asama?”
How beautiful. Maybe too much so for someone like her to say. She can almost taste it, round and bright, as it drops from her lips.
There’s a silent beat where the thought of a boundary she shouldn’t have crossed coming back to hit her hard worms its way into Ariya’s mind—but Asama turns around with a coquettish smile that knocks the remaining air out of her lungs. She pushes down onto the grass to lean over Ariya, nimble and fearless, her sunset-dyed hair a curtain to hide them both from the caws in the trees and the night approaching. Ariya’s fingers twitch with the need to run through it; she doesn’t. She wouldn’t dare ruin the perfect picture in front of her, not when Asama is staring at her like a snake with a trapped bird. Even the wind has stopped its dance to listen to her.
“What is it, Ariya?”
Her own gulp echoes in Ariya’s ears.
There’s no one else.
No kind but pushy relatives. No overzealous guards or smitten apprentices.
No betrothed.
A pang of guilt shakes Ariya’s heart awake.
What is she doing?
On the other side of the plains, past the bushes, a strange cry rings twice through the depths of the forest. If Ariya had never heard it before she would have bet on a youkai meeting its fate at the end of a mighty amulet.
“Oh!” Asama jumps to her feet, picks her quiver up and looks around frantically.
“Is that…”
“A stag, yes! Rut season just started, there’s no better chance to see them!” She can barely contain her excitement when she holds a hand out. “Let’s go, we still have some time left before it gets too dark!”
Whatever happened isn’t at the front of her mind anymore. Her grasp is firm as she helps Ariya stand up.
“Ah, one thing though… Ariya…” The syllables roll on her tongue so clearly and effortlessly that it feels dizzying. Instead Ariya tries to focus on the antler she shows her again. “Could this stay between us? If the others see it they’ll take it for crafting, or to make medicine or whatever… But I want to keep it. To remember today.”
Her cheeks glow a delicate pink—
—no, no they don’t. Of course not.
That’s just wishful thinking.
“I won’t say anything.” Ariya lets go of her hand. “I promise.”