ONE | OF IRON AND CROWNS

  "YOU'RE NOT LISTENING," Myrina accused, laying down the booklet in her hand onto the oak table in the middle of the room. Irina leaned against the arhat bed, one hand pressed against her forehead.

  "I could not care less," Irina drawled in that way of hers that equally terrified and annoyed everyone around her, "about the food being served during the wedding. Ryan's the one obsessed with food, not me."

  Myrina sucked in a breath. "Irina, please. You're making my job very difficult right now."

  Irina raised one carefully drawn brow in response. "Am I?"

  Myrina rubbed her forehead. "Right, we're back to this again. I thought you accepted this, Irina. You seem to like Prince Stephen."

  "Does not mean I have to marry him."

  Myrina stood. "If that's the kind of attitude you're going to have, Irina, I'm going to take my leave first. I have far better things to do than stay here and deal with you."

  "Oh, sit down, Myrina. Fine. The food being served."

  "Are we discussing food?"

  Irina straightened as her cousin, Ryan, the taizi of the Saian Empire entered the parlour, one brow raised. His gaze darted between the two women in the room, landing on the scroll in Myrina's hand. "Aha, knew it. How far are  we in?"

  "Not much, Your Imperial Highness," Myrina replied curtly, though her voice was notably softer than before. She was much more comfortable around Irina than anyone else, and she'd always thought that that was a rather funny fact. Most people greatly preferred Ryan's comforting presence than hers. She was the intense one, the domineering one, the one who demanded too much from people. But Myrina and Ryan had never gotten along, a thin layer of civilness hiding what was on the verge of pure dislike.

  Ryan's eyes darted back to Irina. Traitors. They'd find a common enemy, and today the enemy was her. Irina rubbed her forehead and stood. "It doesn't matter to me. At all. If the noble kitchen can prepare all this and think it's good enough, it's going to be good enough."

  Ryan took the scroll from Myrina's hand and glanced through it. "It's very ordinary," Ryan said. "All dishes are up to standard, of course, but it looks the same as anything you'd find in an expensive and important feast. I'd suggest adding some personal touches into this. You've always liked winter melon with ham, shrimp and pork. Why not ask for that?"

  Irina shrugged. "Don't know. Aren't they already preparing yan guo soup? Bird's nest soup already, no need for more."

  Ryan tilted his head. "Braised pork belly? None of that? They can make that in huge batches. Fairly easy, and it's delicious with rice."

  Irina thought about it. "Add that."

  Myrina reached for the scroll, placed it on the table, and picked up her brush pen to note that down. Ryan continued reading over her shoulders. "There should be more openers, I think. We can let people choose what they want. So far it's just skewers. Jia dian liang cai. Some cold dishes. Cold tofu?"

  "Feels more Asayaman than Saian," Irina pointed out. "Mouthwatering Chicken?"

  "Spicy," Ryan murmured. "Could still be an option, though, I suppose. Wan dou? Some peas?"

  "Still very Asayaman, Ryan."

  Ryan let out a huff and took a step back. "They're Saian cuisine too. Don't see why we can't serve it."

  Irina waved her hand in the air. "Whatever, we're not lacking in dishes anyways. There's already far more courses than necessary, in my opinion. We won't be able to finish it."

  "Most of the food that's leftover will be donated and given out the next day. Besides you only get one wedding in your life, why not make it as exuberant as can be?"

  "Two weddings," Irina replied with an arched brow. "Two weddings in my life, cousin dearest. One here, one less than a week afterwards in Arecia. And I can assure you they have plenty planned too."

  With extreme politeness Ryan said, "They're Arecians. Notorious throughout the world for their cuisine—or lack thereof. In my opinion the only tolerable thing they have there is fish and chips, and I highly, highly doubt they'd be serving that at your wedding feast. Foodwise, we'll be the feast to go for."

  Irina let out a loud, loud sigh. "Why don't you just take over, then, since you have so much opinion on this? I don't. I have far more important things to be working on."

  "Such as?" Ryan asked with a scowl. "Father has already cleared you of all your duties to prepare for the wedding. You have nothing else to do."

  "He cleared me of my duties. I can still choose to do things other than that," Irina pointed out. "I pick my responsibilities, Ryan."

  Myrina had long become invisible in their presence. The other woman was used to it, painfully used to it. Myrina liked it, she's realised in the past. She hadn't chosen this life. That was Irina's fault, dragging her into his. But despite all that, all the things she'd gone through, Myrina still somehow retained a tint of her original innocence, the pureness within her. Irina deeply, deeply envied that. Bu wang chu xin. Never forget your original heart. Myrina had somehow managed it, in this world full of ink and blood looking to stain you.

  Ryan said, "Are they related to the wedding, these chosen responsibilities?"

  Irina scowled and stood up from the arhat bed, taking two steps forward. "Don't ask stupid questions."

  Ryan's disappointed glance was searing. Irina ignored it, focusing on Myrina. "Is this good enough for you?"

  Myrina, soundlessly, stood up and curtsied. "I'll take the... revised menu back to the noble kitchen. Chen nv gao tui." I shall take my leave. Irina nodded, and Ryan absent-mindedly did the same in Myrina's direction as the countess stood and stalked off. Irina's gaze turned to Ryan in a silent challenge.

  He took it, the way she'd expected him to, because Ryan had never been scared or intimidated by his little tricks, even if he'd frequently kept quiet when she threw a little temper tantrum. To the rest of the world it often looked like Irina was the one with the power in the relationship. They were wrong. It was Ryan, and it had always been Ryan.

  He said, "On a scale of one to ten, how ready for this are you?"

  Irina gave it some thought, glancing out of the round window at the side of the room, the carved windowpane giving her a half-view of the courtyard outside. "Three."

  Ryan muttered under his breath, "Wandan." Damnit. Irina was surprised too. She'd always reacted to things fast. When things went wrong in their lives—which was often—she was often the first to adjust to it and come up with a new plan. But she'd been engaged to Prince Stephen for a year now and knew it was probably coming for almost three or four, and here she was. Still completely taken aback, unsure what to do, completely unprepared. She hadn't started packing her belongings. Hadn't started wrapping up all her responsibilities and duties and handing it off to her friends to take over with. Hadn't changed her mindset at all.

  Perhaps a part of her always thought she could stay in Sai forever. That even if she married, it would be a fuma—the Saian word for the husband of a princess—with decent power and endless potential in the Saian court, who'd support her and she'd support him in return.

  It never felt real.

  Before the engagement party last year she'd thrown such a horrible fit that even sent her cringing when she thought about it. But still she didn't regret it.

  But she was the only princess, and not just any but the Emperor's adopted daughter. There was no one else in Sai who could be wedded off to the high and powerful Crown Prince of Arecia. No one except her.

  If this was anything else, Irina would feel awfully, awfully honoured. But this wasn't something she wanted.

  Irina said, "Don't worry. I'll be ready by the time the wedding starts."

  "Mentality takes longer than that. And we've already given you, what, two years? You're always preaching about duty and how you put everything after Sai's greatness, and look at you, failing to do the one thing you should actually be doing. Throughout history, Saian princesses have always been sent out to he qing for strategic, political alliances."

  "This isn't the old dynasty," Irina seethed. "Back then they had bucketloads of princesses with their concubines and wives. And I'm not technically even the gongzhu. I'm a junzhu, Ryan."

  "You stopped being a gege, junzhu, whatever you want to call it the moment you got adopted into the Imperial family, Irina. You've never brought this up before, so don't use this as an argument now. You're the Mingxian Huancheng Gongzhu. The Noble, Venerable, Returned Princess of the First Rank. Live up to your title."

  The title, in Irina's opinion, had always felt mocking. Of course it wasn't meant to be that way. She had first been given the title of Huancheng Gege, the Returned Princess of the Third Rank. Just the third rank then.

  And then she'd been given the title of gongzhu. A second rank princess. And then, when the engagement was being planned, her title was given the highest honour. The Mingxian Huancheng Gongzhu. A princess of the first rank. Ming meant noble–Irina was known among some circles for being crafty, cunning, and willing to sacrifice everything for the greater cause. She was not honourable. Xian meant venerable. Irina was quite certain that no one who knew her personally would agree.

  And the returned part...

  It was a part of her past that she never ever wanted to be mentioned again, even though she knew it was the thing that had made her who she was today. Sometimes she wished it had never happened. She wished it had never happened at all.

  "I'm trying," Irina replied, voice gruff. "It's bloody difficult, Ryan. I never asked for this. You know that as well as I do. I don't want to leave Sai. I don't care if it means I'll eventually become queen. What's a crown if it means I'm oceans away from you all? Oceans away from the place I truly call home?"

  "Longyu," Ryan's voice had softened, "it'll be fine. You'll adjust. You'll get used to it. You'll get used to living in a different place. You can't stay in the Palace forever anyways. Even if you didn't get married off you'd most likely still move out of the Scarlet Palace in a year or two."

  "I'd still be in Hongcheng," Irina raised her chin. "Not in a different country. Do you know how long the journey is?"

  Of course he did. Ryan had travelled to Arecia thrice in his life, Irina only once. He knew this far better than she did. And he also knew that she hated being on ships for more than a day or two. It gave her splinting headaches and she always ended up hurling her guts out by day four. There was a pattern. There was a reason they always sent Ryan onto foreign diplomatic visits and she only went when it was nearby.

  Not that they ever told anyone. Irina was sure Prince Stephen and his entourage would get a nasty surprise when it happened. Justine would be more than pleased if she was to vomit all over her Arecian counterpart, General Stoneworth.

  "Seven days." Ryan raised his chin. "Seven days, Irina. It's seven bloody days. One single week. That's the distance between you and us. Not a month. Just seven days. If you ever miss home you can always come back. You know we'll welcome you with open arms. All we ask of you right now is to do your duty. The engagement's in stone, there's no way to back out of this now. Your bloody chamber is ready in Prince Stephen's palace, along with Vanhen Palace. Your Princess Manor is also prepared for your very, very short stay there. The only thing between you and becoming a married woman and Princess of Arecia is the bloody vows."

  Irina arched her brow. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because I assure you if that's your purpose here, you're only making it worse. But don't worry, I'll go without a fight. I'll excel at it, be the best heqing princess you've ever seen in your life. When have I never excelled at something?"

  "This isn't just anything," Ryan pointed out. "This changes your whole life. I get perfectly why you're against it."

  Irina moved to the table, approaching her cousin. Ryan wore his hair long, unlike some of the other lordlings in Sai. Part of it was tied up in a bun secured atop his hair with a light blue ribbon. He always liked to go for the kind and venerable kind of style, a stark contrast to Irina's bolder and decidedly less traditional style.

  He wore two layers today, the one underneath a robe that overlapped at the front, forming a v-shaped neckline, tied in at the waist with a belt. That was white. Atop it was a light blue coat that reached the hem of his robe.

  She, meanwhile, dressed in bold shades of red, gold and green. Her lips were painted a darker red and her eyeline carefully drawn. Nothing too bold—she was still a princess, but luxurious. Some people didn't appreciate that, thought she was trying too hard. Thought she was trying to outshine Ryan. She wasn't.

  This was simply how she liked to dress. What was the problem with it? It affected no one. She never spent more than she could, and even though her clothes seemed more expensive, she only had a few made that she alternated between and recycled the fabric whenever necessary. People just liked to criticise her.

  Oh, the downside of fame and infamy.

  Irina leaned down, jabbed one finger at Ryan's chest and said, "If you get why I'm against it, you'd shut up."

  Ryan shut his eyes and sighed. "I'm going to go, because clearly you're not in a talking mood."

  "I'm not. In a talking mood. I had a severe lack of sleep yesterday night and I'd like to catch up on it, but Myrina came barging in at eight o'clock to talk to me about menus."

  "She's just doing her job."

  Irina mocked, "That would mark the first time you've ev

er said anything nice about her. I'm tempted to write that down somewhere."

  "Go ahead," Ryan replied mildly. "Write it down. It won't solve your problems. I always respected you, but right now you're being a coward. You're procrastinating, something I never thought I'd ever see you do. I really hope you think this through soon, Irina."

  She shut her eyes, not answering.

  Ryan let out another sigh—he seemed to be doing that a lot lately, and then he left the parlour.

👑

  WITH THE DEPARTURE of one came another. By the time Justine swung by, though, it was already ten o'clock. Myrina hadn't returned, probably buried in her preparation for the wedding. There was a saying in the past dynasties, the emperor is not in a hurry but the eunuch sure is. She felt like it described them right now perfectly.

  Justine was one of the few people left who didn't seek her out plainly for information about the wedding. Justine came because the general was equally as nervous. She was to travel with Irina to Arecia, where she was to stay for a considerable amount of time before returning. Anything from a month or two to six months. Unlike Sai, where the officials and the nobles freely mingled, an older sense of hierarchy still existed back in Arecia. And someone like Justine, who climbed up from nothing, with an undistinguished—unknown, even—blood line and no backing, would be looked down upon. She'd already been slighted by a few of the older nobles who'd come from Arecia and the rest of the world during the engagement party last year.

  She rarely cared about it, especially since that had happened in her territory. But in the matter of a month they won't be the ones who are comfortable. They'd be the ones on their toes.

  And there was the matter of General Stoneworth, Prince Stephen's right hand man. Justine and Stoneworth despised each other to a level neither Irina nor the Prince could understand. It was some kind of matter of honour and pride and skill. Irina had wisely chosen to ignore the rivalry around two hours after they'd all met. It hadn't seemed like something worst wasting time and energy on. She was very good at choosing things to concentrate her attention on if she did say so herself. If she wasn't, she'd probably have had a heart attack due to stress and be deceased by now.

  Justine and Irina currently overlooked the Intelligence Department of the Saian Government, headed by the Duke of Shui Xiang, quite literally, standing on the nearby tower as they glanced down at the Intelligent headquarters within Palace walls. They had a bigger one outside, but this was where the truly important things went down. The commands, the orders. Usually a guard patrolled this tower at all times, keeping an eye both on the department and any unlikely visitor who decided to pay the tower a little visit. But Irina had told them to take a break while she and Justine were here. Not that the guard had actually done so—Irina could still spot him lingering near the entrance of the tower underneath.

  All their guards were well-trained. Loyal. Careful and meticulous in their attention to detail.

  Justine tilted her head. "And there comes Asteria. And she turns to us, giving us a slight nod of the head. That's her telling us we are not hidden."

  Irina replied, "We're not meant to be hidden."

  Justine tapped her fingers against the side of her head. "I feel like we're giving our intelligencers unnecessary stress, monitoring them from up here. They must feel very uncomfortable right now."

  "Oh please," Irina scoffed. "If they can't deal with us being here, they don't belong on the field, or even behind the desk. They're agents. They're just as much a soldier as any of your people."

  "Soldiers and agents," Justine said, "are two very different things. We work and operate completely differently."

  Irina shrugged. "You still have plenty of similarities."

  "The army is the army," Justine crossed her arms and continued, "the intelligence department is the intelligence department. We work with each other, but we are not one. You know most soldiers on the field don't really look that up to spies? An alarming amount of them find them dishonourable to the extreme."

  "Honour isn't bullshit if all it gets you is your own death. Or that of your entire country, in our situation." She cocked her head, eyeing Justine. "No offence, general."

  Justine shut her eyes. "A code of honour is necessary for the battleground. It's malleable and flexible depending on the situation, yes, but at the end of the day, it is best to follow it. You won't get it, not unless you've been on the battlefield before."

  "As I am a princess, soon to be wedded off and the only princess in Sai, no, I cannot say I have."

  "Careful there, Longyu, your words stink of privilege and silver spoons."

  "Well, Zhenfei, I think we both know better than that."

  Irina lowered her head, and the small crystal chain dangling before her ear from her headpiece dropped too, glimmering under the summer sun. It was boiling hot, and she could not be more grateful for her silk gown. In a move decidedly unlike her, she'd dressed in light green, bounded in the waist with a gold belt, the long sleeves hemmed in ribbons of the same shade.

  Justine said, "We didn't come here just to comment on military and espionage matters, did we? If we did, I'd be extremely disappointed in you, my princess."

  Irina waved her hand in the air. "Well, I thought we could enjoy the view."

  Justine's brow rose. "A view we've been witnessing for the past, what, ten years of our life?"

  Irina tilted her head. "A bit more than that, I think," she mused pensively. "Yes, most definitely more than that."

  Justine shook her head, laying her hands on the rails. Justine was one of the few who dressed very differently compared to the other females at the Saian court. Her long hair was tied up high in a long, straight ponytail. There was no powder or paint on her face, and her clothes were simple without any jewellery or accessory—white robe, tied in the middle with a thick belt, and a purple cloak on her shoulders that wavered in the soft wind. Thank god there was still the slightest bit of wind, or Irina would most definitely be feeling the wrath of the heat right now.

  She hoped the heatwave passed by the time the wedding took place. It would not do for her to be sweating the entire time in her extremely heavy and thick wedding uniform.

  Justine said, "I suppose you have the right to want to linger and enjoy this sight."

  Irina shut her eyes. "I invited you here because I thought you wouldn't mention that particular topic."

  "Fine." Justine raised her hands. "But seriously, it's boiling hot here, Longyu, and it's boring. Why don't we go for a walk instead? Perhaps stop at the kitchens or ask someone to fetch us some food—I'm starving. Where's Zimi?"

  "Zimi—" that was Myrina's Saian name "—is somewhere dealing with the menu of the wedding feast."

  "That's perfect," Justine pointed out, "she'd be in the kitchens. Why don't we just swing by and perhaps fetch her as well?"

  Irina glanced down ruefully at the many steps of stairs they'd have to go down and said, "Perhaps in a bit?"

  Justine let out a huff. "You managed to make it all the way up, you can make your bloody way down. You need a bit more exercise anyways, you know."

  "I am a princess." But her body didn't obey her words as she moved back into the tower itself, slowly making her way down the steps. "I do not require physical exertion or exercise. As long as I'm healthy—which I am, thank you very much—I do not need to do any more fitness activities. It's decidedly unprincess-like, in fact."

  Justine said with absurd patience, "You know how to swordfight."

  Irina grumbled in reply, "Barely."

  Justine didn't bother continuing the argument, if you could call it that in the first place. The two of them took a rather leisurely and slow-paced stroll back to the bottom of the tower. At the sight of them, the guard rose to his feet and knelt. One shoulder. Irina told him to rise. "You may return to your duties now," she said. "I apologise for the interruption."

  As expected, he replied, "I wouldn't dare accept Your Highness' apology."

  Irina waved him off. Justine took her arm, and shoulder to shoulder they walked down the path of the garden and to the main path. They were quite a mismatched pair, the princess and the general, but most people in court were used to them. They'd debuted at court together many years ago and they'd been attached to each other's hips since, unless Justine was sent out on an military excursion, and none had happened for the past year and a half. Though the situation with Melique seemed to be worsening again—recent negotiations had not gone well.

  Not that it was apparently Irina's problem anymore, since the Emperor had relieved her of all her political duties.

  It wasn't about to stop her. Everyone knew this, so Irina wasn't sure why they'd all bothered in the first place. It wasn't as if any of them were about to physically bar her from interfering in the negotiations and putting in her own two pennies.

  There were imperial kitchens located all throughout the palace, serving its residents, but only one was the kitchen. The one closest to all the Imperial family's personal residences, and the largest one of all. Most likely where Myrina would be. And they were correct. Stepping through the doors, they were immediately greeted with a smell of the day's lunch selection. Irina allowed a small smile to flitter on her face.

  Immediately one of the officials in charge of the kitchen appeared, kneeling. "Mingxian Huancheng Gongzhu! Lan jiangjun!"

  "Rise," Irina said to the woman. "We're a bit hungry, so we thought we might stop by for a quick meal. And is the Countess of Li Han here?"

  "She is, Your Highness," the official said, slowly straightening. "Would you like to see her? She's in one of the resting rooms, we can send your food there if you want. Is there anything you particular you wish to eat, Your Highness?"

  "Not much," Irina shrugged. "Justine?"

  "Could I please have some peanut cakes?" Justine scratched her neck. "Suddenly have the craving for some."

  "Of course, daren." Justine's upgrade from guniang to daren in the last few years was one that they all mocked. Daren, in western terms, would be lord. But the title was given to anyone of a high status, whether it be an official, chancellor, or a noble in Sai.

  Justine nodded. "Thank you. Where is the Countess...?"

  "Right this way, please."

  Myrina was in one of the offices besides the kitchens, still bent over that scroll from earlier. When she heard the door opening she looked up and curtsied. "Gongzhu dianxia, Lan jiangjun."

  Justine replied, mainly and only because the official was still in sight, "Mai bojue."

  They waited until the official was out of earshot, shutting the door behind them. Irina said, "We thought we might stop by and check on you."

  Myrina replied, voice still rather curt from the events of the morning, "How kindly of you."

  Justine glanced between them. She could see the tension. Was used to it, because this happened more often than either of them would like to admit. Because even though Myrina was the perfect assistant in the eyes of most, only Justine and Irina truly knew what happened all those years ago. Why Myrina almost seemed to resent Irina, when to the rest of the world, if not for her Myrina would long ago have been destroyed by vultures or be wasting away in some far away temple, serving her goddess.

  They didn't talk about it, though. They kept it deep inside. Swallowed the words, the apologies every time they seemed to come out, because they knew they wouldn't mean it.

  Well, Irina wouldn't. Justine seemed to genuinely regret ever having helped her with that. Irina didn't.

  She did what was necessary.

  She always did what was necessary. They'd all understand someday.

  Hers was a thankless job, but that was fine.

  Justine said, softly, trying to diffuse the situation, "Well, how's the menu going on?"

  "Quite well." Myrina checked her bunned up hair, secured with a chai. "I think it's more or less finalised now. Irina, I swapped the roasted chicken out for duck. Even though some people might not enjoy it as much, roasted duck is Hong Cheng specialty. Makes no sense to serve chicken when we could serve that instead."

  "Makes sense," Irina nodded approvingly.

  Myrina continued, "Added mapo doufu. Cold tofu was too Asayaman, but spicy tofu should do the job."

  Justine said, with utter politeness, "And we're certain our guests can handle such spiciness?"

  Irina shrugged. "More than half our guests will be Saian. The Arecians aren't sending that big of an entourage over here. If they don't want it, they can just tell us beforehand. Most likely we'd need to do a survey of some kind to see what the guests want to and don't want to be served."

  "Such a caring host," Myrina murmured as she scribbled something on a separate piece of paper beside her. "Right. Surveys for each individual guest. They arrive soon enough for that."

  "Two bloody weeks prior."

  Myrina said pointedly, "It's for your benefit too, you know. More time for you and Prince Stephen to get along. The Emperor and Empress do care for you beyond just being a political pawn. You're their adopted daughter and niece. They need this marriage, but they also want you to enjoy a tolerable marriage."

  "I get along with Prince Stephen."

  Justine shook her head. "I don't think getting along is the basis of a good marriage. You two need to be at least friends, you know. Well, if it brings you any joy... you getting married means it's Ruge's turn."

  Myrina audibly snorted, which was most unlike her. But Irina didn't bother reprimanding her for it, because she found the idea of Ruge—Ryan's Saian name–taking a wife absolutely ridiculous as well. "I won't be here to see the courtship."

  Myrina said, quietly, "I always somewhat thought it'd be one of us. My bet was always on Asteria, but then, her and Lieutenant Harlande of the Caershireens... I think she's eliminated from the bride race."

  Irina scratched her head. "I always thought her a good choice. And they're good friends. But you're right. It's not going to be her. Luciana?"

  "Far too young," Justine said. "Someone similar to his age, definitely. But I don't think any of us really fit his level of status. Not a foreign bride?"

  "Definitely a Saian," Irina confirmed. "Most definitely a Saian. The Empress has a list of them somewhere, all the ones she finds acceptable and suitable. It's a short list."

  Justine snorted. "As expected. The Empress has high standards."

  "Few can live up to her legacy," Myrina agreed solemnly. "Though it is strange, the fact that in a few decades, they will be gone. Let us hope it is many decades."

  Irina said, "It will be. But it is around time Sai gets a royal bride."

  "Arecia gets one first, though." And right back to the topic. Myrina offered a small smile, as if she could read Irina's inner thoughts. The princess glowered in reply. Justine sighed and planted her hand on her forehead.

  A knock sounded on the door. All three of them straightened. "Enter," Irina said in the commanding voice that had been engineered into her as a child. A young maid entered, holding a tray of food in her hands as she managed a careful curtsy.

  "Your Imperial Highness, the food you requested has been prepared. Would you like me to put it on the table?"

  Irina glanced at it. Myrina instinctively pushed the papers laid around away, leaving a large enough space. The maid gingerly placed the tray now, bobbed another curtsy, and left.

  Justine glanced at it, a smile appearing on her face. "I'm bloody starving."

  "Well, suit yourself." Irina gestured at it. There were the peanut cakes Justine had specifically requested, and some osmanthus cake. Some rice cakes were towered on another plate, probably with sweet fillings. There were also a handful of small tangerines. A decent amount of snacks. Irina grabbed a piece of osmanthus cake.

  Myrina took a rice cake. Justine took the peanut cake—which was really peanut candy, though the Arecian translation was cake for some odd reason and began eating. It was crunchy, and Justine wasn't the most neat eater. Soon enough broken pieces of peanuts were littering the table. Myrina carefully brushed some to the side, continuing to study her menu.

  Irina really wasn't sure what she was studying. Surely it couldn't be all that impressive or interesting. It was just a list of courses that would be served. But Myrina always did her job well so Irina didn't question it.

  Sometimes, the way for coexistence was not knowing everything. Because what you've seen the deepest, darkest parts of someone...

  There was no going back. There was never ever any going back.

  So even with Justine and Myrina, arguably two of her closest friends, she kept them at an arms' distance. Just in case. For her own protection, and for theirs. It was always safest when there was a barrier between them all.

  The Arecians arrived in two weeks. She had between now and then to do everything she wanted to do. To enjoy her last days of being a bachelorette. Not that there was much she wanted to do. Irina was someone who refused to let herself have any regrets. So far it had worked wonderfully for her.

  She had much to live for, after all.