Page 22 of Drawn into Oblivion

“Eyes shut, please,” Kumi said, holding the brush confidently. Leaving her fate in the woman’s hands, Mai closed her eyes and hoped for the best.

Twenty minutes quickly passed. Conversation resumed among the ladies, but Mai spent all of it trying not to flinch whenever the brush touched her skin. Kumi swirled it over her eyebrows and down her cheeks in some artistic pattern, changing brushes several times, and she wondered how much paint Kumi planned to cake onto her face.

“It needs a moment to dry, so keep your eyes closed while I apply the lip stain,” Kumi ordered. “The lip stain is exactly that. Stain. It won’t come off for a couple days, so don’t rub your mouth raw trying to remove it.” Mai made a noise of agreement. Then Shumei gasped with pain.

“I’m so sorry, Empress! I’ll try to be gentler,” Arisa said.

“It’s all right.”

Kumi held Mai’s chin steady and pulled a small brush along the edge of her mouth with expert precision. “Oh, that’s lovely,” she murmured. Mai couldn’t wait to see what was so “lovely” about an inch of paint on her face. And was Kumi pressing some sort of sand onto her lips? “There now, all done,” Kumi said with obvious satisfaction.

Mai carefully opened her eyes and fearfully looked over her shoulder. “Divine One have mercy,” she gasped, unsure if the reflection was really her.

Kumi had drawn shimmery, gold crescent moons over her eyes. One point ended on her inner tear duct, the long edge curving along the line of her eyebrow and swooping down past her cheekbones. The darker golds and bronzes along her lash line made the green of her eyes warm and bright. And for her lips, Kumi had chosen a dark plum shade made all the more dramatic by a careful dusting of gold flakes.

“Madam Kumi, that is amazing,” Shumei effused, staring at Mai’s reflection. The compliment made Kumi preen. Meanwhile, Arisa had twisted Shumei’s wavy locks back to reveal the delicate structure of her face, and had woven a dozen soft, white feathers into her hair, which made the empress seem like a crane that had magically transformed into a human.

“This was the tradition?” Mai looked at her appearance with uncertainty, having never seen anything like it. Even the wealthiest in her hometown of Toubou had never worn paint. Then again, if cosmetics had been a court tradition, the blondies may have discarded it out of spite.

“Among the items found in the warehouse, we found a small portion of the court library’s collection, and one of the books offered some details of a traditional joining ceremony,” Shumei explained while looking at herself in the mirror. “For ceremonies between a man and woman, the woman to be joined wears waxing moons to symbolize fertility, and her attendant wears waning moons.”

“And what do the waning moons mean?”

“Nothing in particular, according to Vallen. The old tradition simply employed a lot of opposites. Waxing for me, waning for you.”

“And the face paint?” Mai asked.

“Vallen said the moon symbols tended to be a hair ornament or headdress,” Shumei admitted, “but we’ve not yet found anything in the complex that someone from the old court would’ve worn.”

“A new tradition, then,” Kumi declared.

“In that case, I wish the men would wear paint,” Arisa said dreamily, clutching a comb to her chest. “Imagine the high general and Commander Rosuke wearing matching moons.” Shumei smiled coyly at Arisa’s starry-eyed reflection, and Mai sighed at the mental image of Rosuke’s refined features painted to match her. It would certainly look fascinating.

“Is Commander Rosuke participating as well?” Mai hadn’t been aware he would be part of the actual ceremony. In fact, she was starting to suspect she had a greater role than she’d been led to believe. Wasn’t she supposed to stand somewhere and just watch?

“Yes, Rosuke is the attendant to the man to be joined. He is meant to guard the ceremony as a whole,” Shumei said. “He knows what to do and will guide you, so you don’t have to worry about remembering anything.”

“I see,” Mai said slowly, now worried she’d ruin the empress’s important day. What if she made a mistake, or tripped, or dropped something?

“Enough chatter,” Shumei said with a sharp nod. “Let’s paint my face so I can dress and be ready.” Kumi nodded and carefully carried the set of paints to the empress’s side of the vanity. “Mai, your dress is behind the screen there.” She pointed at a segmented paper divider by the bed. “You may change now if you like.” She closed her eyes as Kumi spread rice powder across her skin.

“My dress? But…” She had already prepared a plain, black gown—her best one. Kyoko and the two Summer ladies flashed her knowing smiles, and she walked toward the screen. As she rounded the foot of the bed, she tried not to think of what usually took place there every night. However, having seen a few moments of her empress’s amorous evening only a week ago, she couldn’t help blushing.

Then she peeked around the edge of the screen and gasped at what she saw.

“Empress,” she whispered, glancing toward the vanity. Eyes still closed, Shumei smiled as if quite pleased with herself.

Whereas the empress would wear white, the color symbolic of her rank and status, her attendant was bound by tradition to wear its opposite, black. But this was no ordinary, demure dress. Its needlework was nothing short of stunning. Delicate, silvery embroidery on the back depicted a starry night with a full moon. Stars splashed her skirt and sleeves, including shooting stars and well-known constellations. Mai would be the night sky personified when she put on that dress.

But however lovely it was, something beyond the bed pulled her gaze. A box, neither large nor small. It sat on a table near the window, out of the way. She thought it might contain soaps or ribbons, but it had a shiny lock that glinted in the sunlight. Clearly, it contained something important, perhaps a cache of money or royal jewels, but as her gaze lingered on it, she felt a cold trickle down her back.

“Would you like help?” Kyoko asked. Mai jumped in surprise and whirled around, which startled Kyoko in turn. Kyoko covered her mouth and giggled. “Oh, sorry.”

She and Kyoko ducked behind the screen. The dress’s matching underrobe was a black so dark it seemed to absorb light, and it was softer than anything she’d ever touched, like stroking a dark, cool cloud. Kyoko was quiet and helpful as she adjusted the fit of the dress so it sat perfectly.

When Mai emerged, the empress was already donning her gown, and Mai gasped at Shumei’s transformation. The rice powder had turned her skin snow-white, and her lips were stained a deep red. The corners of her mouth were covered with rice powder as well, which made her mouth look small and round, puckered for a kiss. Two upward-pointing crescent moons cupped her eyes, curving from her cheekbones to her temples. Kumi had used silvers and frosty blues to keep the focus on Shumei’s blood-red mouth.

Shumei looked up from watching the four women fuss over the fit of her dress, and her smile was nearly blinding. She had spread her arms to give the ladies room to wrap her belt around her, and flailed in childlike excitement.