I stepped out of my palanquin in front of the entrance to the Grand Phoenix Temple. Taking precise steps, I started toward the temple entrance, two lines of monks following at my heels. My body moved automatically- it knew the proper steps, the proper ceremony, even as my mind was in turmoil.

Life as the wife of Prince Ying-feng of Yan province would be a misery. Even if I were to put aside all of the horrible rumors about the man himself, Prince Ying-feng already had two wives. That would mean I would be his third and lowest wife. It was a shame and dishonor greater than anything I could imagine for a daughter of the emperor to be a mere third wife in her own household. I was supposed to be the first wife, the most important… How could father allow this to happen?

I focused on control my breathing as I stepped through the moon door, the temple entrance carved into a perfect circle. It was meant to represent to tranquility of the full moon. I felt anything but tranquil as I stepped through it.

I’d heard stories of noble women who became the third or fourth wife of a lord, hoping for a higher status and the comfort of wealth. Their lives were living hells, constantly degraded and made to suffer by the jealous first wives. Their children weren’t safe either. I had heard stories of accidents conveniently befalling the children of lesser wives, ensuring that the first wives’ children would inherit all of their father’s wealth. I shuddered at the mere thought of it. Was that my destiny? To eternally suffer at the hands of my husband’s wives, and to have my children suffer the same fate as well? I blinked back the tears that threatened to spill down my face. I had arrived in the main chamber of the temple.

The room, like the moon door, was in the shape of a perfect circle. The architecture of the place- the windows, the passageways, even the tiles- was entirely made of up concentric circles, curves, and ovals. This was natural for a temple- demons were attracted to straight lines and sharp angles. Curving lines and circles, however, confused them and led them astray. No demon would dare come close to such a structure as this one.

The walls of the room were painted with familiar images of long-haired goddesses and white-bearded gods, the pictures telling stories of the gods’ divine battles in the heavenly realm. At the very back of the room was the altar to Shang-di, the emperor of the gods. A great golden sculpture of the god in all his might and glory stood ten feet high, his gaze seeming to look down at the mere mortals below him. At his feet, rows of incense burners sent up sweet smelling smoke in hues of blue and purple. They filled the air with the scent of lavender and jasmine.

The edges of the temple were crowded with lords and ladies in attendance of the event. They all bowed low as I entered. I didn’t pay them any attention. My gaze was focused on the figures at the front of the room, standing right in front of Shang-di’s feet. My family waited for me there, standing in a perfect row and wearing their beautiful ceremonial robes.

I couldn’t bring myself to meet my mother’s gaze, so I let my eyes slide right past her. My brothers stood next to her. Li-bai’s proud face betrayed no emotion as I met his gaze. His brown eyes remained fixed straight ahead, his figure as still as a statue. I didn’t expect anything else from him, but still I wished he would have smiled or nodded- anything that could have comforted me. I repressed a sigh and looked next to Li-bai, to Jian-yu. Whereas Li-bai was stoic and still as a statue, Jian-yu was as fluid and easy going as a serpent. He was the second oldest, but the tallest of my brothers and seemed to think that made him the best of them as well. He smiled broadly at me and gave a teasing waggle of his brows. I gave him a weak smile in return.

Last of all, I turned to Shun. Shun was only one year older than I was, and so I was closer to him than Li-bai or Jian-yu. He took so much after our father- it was in the sharp angle of his jaw, the light brown color of his eyes. Every day they seemed to grow more alike. He frowned in my direction, the skin between his brows creasing. He sensed that something was wrong. I gave a small, imperceptible shake of my head. I’ll tell you later, I tried to tell him. I hoped I’d get the chance.

And there, at the center of it all, stood Emperor Shou-dai- my father, who had just bargained my happiness away for the sake of his wars.

He was dressed in a long black ceremonial robe, his hands folded into the sleeves. The design of a galloping tiger chasing a doe swirled over the fabric in brilliant gold and white thread. His black hair was shot through with strands of gray and was pulled up into a bun atop his head. The imperial crown was a black cylinder that hid his bun, covered with a flat rectangular piece of black sandalwood. Strings of beads hung down from the wooden piece both in front and back of the crown, covering my father’s face with a screen of pearl, ivory, and opal. Through the beads, he averted his gaze from me. He looked too ashamed to meet my gaze.

A sudden rage boiled up inside me at the sight of his shame. That coward- he had no right to condemn me to a life of misery and think he could avoid a confrontation. He had no right.

I bowed to him. I did not look at him as I rose up. The temple monk stepped forward and faced me.

“On this auspicious day in the year of the ox, the gods take a young girl and make her into a woman,” he pronounced in a high, clear voice. “May you be blessed with prosperity and longevity, and may the gods grant you good fortune.”

He inclined his head and stepped back. It was my turn now.

I stepped before the golden statue of Shang-di and bowed low. I recited my words, saying each of them perfectly. It all went in a blur. My mind was too distracted, too full of worries and fears.

Mother had said that Prince Ying-feng would join me in my palanquin after the ceremony. He would then ask me to be his wife, and I was expected to accept. She’d said that it wouldn’t matter if I refused him or not. I would marry him either way, and a refusal would only lower my status in his household that much further. Out of the corner of my eye, my gaze shifted to my father, and the sadness in his eyes as he watched me. No, I didn’t quite believe that I couldn’t change his mind. If only I could find a way to speak to him in private, to convince him. I was his only daughter, and I knew that I was his favorite, more so even than my brothers. He didn’t want to do this to me- he’d only agreed to it because others had forced his hand. My recitation grew more confident as my conviction solidified in my mind. I would get him to change his mind- I had to.

But when would I have the opportunity to speak with him? Time was too short and slipped by all too quickly. At the ceremony’s end, I would have time to briefly receive congratulations from my family before being whisked away into my palanquin, where Prince Ying-feng would be waiting for me. It wasn’t enough time to speak with father, and it was much too public to even try. What I needed was to buy more time somehow…

I bowed three times in succession at Shang-di’s alter. My thoughts were whirling, but on the outside I was an image of perfect calm and poise. I risked a glance at my mother. She smiled at me, her eyes showing approval. I felt a pang in my chest that I couldn’t ignore. How could she condemn me to this without a regret? She, more than anyone, should have understood the horrors that life could hold for the unfortunate wife. I dragged my gaze away from her, slowly backing away from the altar with calculated steps. But although she was my mother, she had hardly raised me. We were more like strangers to each other than mother and daughter. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me that she’d marry me off without a second glance. Yet it hurt nonetheless.

The ceremony was at its end. I turned toward my father and bowed low to him in reverence.

I spoke clearly and concisely, the words echoing out in the temple chamber. “By the auspiciousness of the sun and the wisdom of the moon, I stand before you to receive my blessing.”

I didn’t look up as he walked forward, his robes swishing rhythmically along the floor. When he stopped in front of me, I at last looked up. He smiled at me, his face full of pride, but those dark brown eyes were full of regret. He knew that he was betraying me by doing this- he knew it and he felt it in his soul.

Good, I thought. Let him feel guilt and take back his decision. Let him take pity on his only daughter.

In his palm lay a hair pin. It was fairly simple in design, less intricate and lavish than most of the jewels and accessories my mother and the palace concubines wore. It was a simple pin made entirely out of lustrous obsidian. Inlaid with pearl, characters in bright white lettering spelled out prayers to the gods and my name, inscribing me for wealth and prosperity in the Book of Rites.

“Daughter, I bless you and gift you with this hairpin. May it represent your eternal piety and graciousness, your virtue like the oceans. Respect it with dignity, grace and modesty. May your longevity last a thousand years, and forever receive good fortune.”

He bent forward and slid the pin through the bun piled on top of my head. I stood to my feet, and this time he was the one to bow before me.

“The rites and rituals are done, and on this auspicious day and month, I announce thee Princess Su-min of the great Zhao dynasty. By your splendid name, it shall benefit thy virtue. Thou shalt be a true daughter of heaven.”

I responded mechanically. “I, Princess Su-min of the great Zhao dynasty, may be unworthy, but I dare not let the gods of darkness cometh.” I bowed once more to my father. There- it was done. In the eyes of the gods, I was now a woman grown. In the eyes of my mother and father, I was a woman set to be sacrificed like a pawn in a game of war. But I meant what I said. I would not let the gods of darkness come, and I would not go down quietly.