By the time Fu-er and Yue was in sight of the main carriageway, the gathered crowd from the other pavilions was already a dense mass of celebratory energy. The two girls looked at each other excitedly and held hands as they made their way to the front.

“Pardon me, sorry. Apologies, Mistress Jin! Short girl moving through!” Yue shouted as she finally burst through the crowd to the front, Fu-er panting at her side.

The procession was grander than the annual proceedings. Four marching musicians in the bright colors of a spring celebration took point with their ceremonial horns held high, two standard bearers behind them, and eight cavalry knights on their tall war stallions donned in the blue and white of the Skarian Empire. Following a short distance behind them were the emissaries in their fine robes of red and silver, and silk headbands embellished with the royal sigil. As the procession neared, almost against her will, Yue’s eyes subconsciously searched for the familiar mop of dark hair brushing a fair nape. A hint of a self deprecating smile, dark eyes that hid a piercing intelligence…and a black fox mask with scarlet markings.

Just as her heart was about to go into overdrive with anticipation, a gold palanquin came into view, lifted by four wood weavers in the brown and gold garb of master weavers. Seated atop elegantly behind translucent gauze curtains was the unmistakable silhouette of Prince Yin Long.

“He actually came!” Kelia appeared by Yue’s side, just managing to squeeze through the throng. She held onto Yue’s hand tightly, her squeal of excitement lost in the crowd’s wild exuberance at the sight of the prince’s palanquin.

Yue’s eyes fixed onto the silhouette, hands clenched tight with Fu-er on her right and Kelia on her left with the effort to look past the sheer barrier, sure that he felt her gaze too. She felt a small smile of girlish admiration come unbidden onto her face. He seems to have grown out his hair, and grown a little into those broad shoulders, Yue observed with wide eyes.

A sudden flash of midnight behind the prince’s palanquin caught her attention.

Impossible. Yue’s eyes widened in surprise. Threads of darkest midnight curled through the curtains, a color that she had never before seen. She had never entered the Mother’s thread realm without conscious effort before, much less seen such dark threads.

Threads of midnight…threads of shadows… Soft, feminine laughter. Laced with a hint of cruelty.

Threads of Mine…

Yue froze. The voice that haunted her from before. She glanced around, but she saw no unfamiliar faces. Fu-er looked down at her, alerted by her frantic movements.

“You alright, Yue? What’s wrong?”

“I thought I heard someone,” Yue tried shouting back, but her response was lost in the crowd’s renewed vigor as more mounted knights passed through the gates. Yue shook her head at Fu-er and turned back to the carriageway. She squinted at the spot where she last saw the phantom threads, but all that remained was the reflection of the sun on polished gold.

Kelia jerked Yue’s hand. Lost in her concentration, Yue started. Kelia leaned in close.

“Moonface, is that Lieutenant Ye?” A feminine whisper of awe.

Yue forced her gaze towards the back of the palanquin where Kelia was looking at. Riding astride on black war stallions half a head taller than the rest of the cavalry was General Ye Sun and his son, Ye Yang. Both were outfitted with the latest armor designs Ye Yang was raving to her about during his last Moon Festival visit. That was many years ago. Curving black scales hugged their torsos, accentuating their lean physique after years of battle in the Kharian Deserts. Silver steel highlighted Ye Yang’s shoulders, ending in hooked talons that held aloft a billowing black cape. In contrast, General Ye Sun had gold adorning his shoulder pads to mark his status and contributions. Yue had never thought of Ye Yang as a man, not when he always stood in the shadow of the prince in her heart. But in that moment, with a serious countenance that so mirrored his father’s, Yue could finally see why he’s been getting propositioned by more than a few courtiers’ daughters back in Vyrnos, as he was wont to complain about whenever he wrote to her.

“Oh wow, it is him,” Yue whispered back. She and Kelia giggled like school girls just enrolled in the learning pavilion. Looking at her childhood friend, he seemed almost a different man. Her smile faltered. Worry about the prince’s and Ye Yang’s lack of communication with her in recent years surfaced to plague Yue - would they treat her differently now that they were no longer friends in the Royal Learning Pavilion? As the palanquin and elite weavers rode past them, she studied Ye Yang in greater detail.

The angles of his face had sharpened with adulthood, his dark hair slicked back was longer than when last she saw him, though he kept the sides short. His straight, aristocrat’s nose looked crooked, like it might have been broken recently but had not healed right. His eyes, midnight dark and serious looked forward with steadfast concentration, his overall posture showed a confidence and ease with his position in the royal procession. He looked different. He felt different. A flicker of melancholy stole through Yue.

Before Ye Yang turned his head subtly to catch her eye and give her a mischievous wink, letting his arrogant indifference settle onto his face again a heartbeat later. A stunned second, and relieved laughter bubbled from within her. She chided herself for her lack of faith. Her old friend remained beneath the mandatory façade he had to adopt as social customs dictated. Her good humour restored, she cheered with the crowd, waving at Ye Yang and the rest of the mounted knights.

As the crowd's jubilation died down to a happy murmur, a second palanquin appeared at the gates. Larger than the first, with elaborate gold carvings twined around curved posts and its tall, curved roof. As the palanquin drew nearer, Yue could make out intricate dragons and beasts of myths in the design, precious gems embedded where their eyes were, seeming to come alive in the golden hues of dusk. The gauze curtains for this palanquin was tied back, the royal within waving serenely at the crowd, face hidden coyly behind a red silk fan. Her headdress was an elaborate study in braids and gold ornaments, jewelled tassels that complemented the dark tilt of her eyes, the only visible part of the noble lady. Her robe of crimson and topaz draped around her elegantly in layers, pooling around her cushioned seats. Four master weavers were assigned to her palanquin, their eyes luminescent in the setting sun.

"I wonder who she is," Yue said to no one in particular, gaze transfixed on the mysterious beauty. Kelia and Fu-er shrugged, all three of them craning their necks as the procession gathered at the plaza before the Dancing Peony Pavilion, the largest building in the middle of the Imperial Villa for welcoming its noblest guests.

Concubine Shu stood at the top of the large stone steps leading up from the plaza, framed by manicured willow and maple trees in planters on both sides. Draped in silk robes of softest mauve and daisy yellow, Concubine Shu struck a regal silhouette of feminine elegance. Standing to her left and right in a perfect arc were members of the upper and lower households - upper advisors in robes of white and silver embroidery, garrison officers in grey and silver armour, and lower advisors in robes of navy.

The royal herald stepped from his place behind the marching musicians onto the first step, bowed low at the waist to Concubine Shu. Concubine Shu lifted her right hand, granting him permission to proceed. The herald bent and stepped to the side, arms raised in piety.

“Prince Yin Long, descendant of the Great Dragon and heir to the Golden Seat of Skaria.” A pause, the gauze curtains of the first palanquin fluttered. Leather boots of midnight and shimmering gold trimmings emerged, then a pale hand and mop of raven dark hair. The prince brushed his hands down his black robes, and adjusted a matching headband of black with the royal Dragon sigil carved in polished gold in the middle of his forehead. From Yue’s position in the middle of the carriageway, she could just make out the red and white of soaring cranes embroidered on the dark background of the prince’s robes. He smiled and nodded at the assembled welcoming committee. With Concubine Shu’s lead, the advisors and gathered crowd along the carriageway knelt as one.

“Long live the young dragon.”

Yue peeked up from her kneeling position, catching the prince’s awkward hesitation. She smiled. Seems like he hasn’t lost his endearing introverted nature yet. Prince Yin Long cleared his throat and signaled for Concubine Shu to rise, along with the rest of her — and his — subjects.

“I thank you for the warm welcome, Concubine Shu. May I present to you Concubine Yol-min, who has gladly volunteered to be royal emissary for the Moon Festival invite this year.” He waved at the second palanquin, coming to a gentle halt behind the first. The four master weavers lowered the palanquin as one with uncanny synchronicity. A veteran soldier in black scaled armor with sapphire blue pauldrons who until now stood silently by the palanquin reached forward to offer his arm. An elite imperial water weaver.

A hand as fair as the first fall of snow appeared from behind the second palanquin. Concubine Yol-min placed her hand daintily on the soldier’s proffered arm, rising from her seat and stepping lightly onto the plaza’s stone steps. The bright crimson of her gown contrasted sharply with the paleness of her exposed nape, her powdered face. She stepped up to the prince’s side and smiled warmly.

“I, too, thank Lady Shu for the warm welcome. We have brought some supplies at the behest of the Great Dragon His Majesty Ka Long for the coming winter. We hope you will accept them, as a small token of our gratitude for your continued good work here at Tyrmal.”

A voice like warm honey, soft and pleasant, carried across the plaza by sound weavers around the plaza’s rim. Concubine Shu’s responding smile was brusquely polite. Yue stared in surprise. Even though she was only shy of thirty years of age, Concubine Shu was a symbol of maternal gentleness, her smiles rare but when earned, a precious gift. Yue, Fu-er and Kelia exchanged puzzled glances, affirming each other that they witnessed the same cold response.

“Wasn’t she only a Lady Yol-min last year?” Yue asked.

Fu-er cocked her head. “That’s right, I remember distinctly she was among the visiting nobles from Sohar who visited Tyrmal. Is she a concubine now?”

“Apparently so, and no wonder. Who could resist skin like hers?” Kelia scrunched her nose. The three of them craned their necks, trying to glimpse more of the fair beauty.

“It is always a pleasure to welcome two such distinguished guests to Tyrmal. Pavilions in the inner wing have been prepared. Should your parties require any assistance, Mistress Xu will attend to them.” Concubine Shu nodded at a matronly figure at the base of the stone steps, bronze hairpins, symbols of the head housekeeper, glinted in her humble updo. Mistress Xu bowed to the royals with her usual no-nonsense countenance. Concubine Shu continued. “A dinner banquet has been prepared. Please freshen up and settle in. The banquet shall begin after sunset.”

As the gathered royals exchanged pleasantries and the crowd dispersed, Yue parted ways with Kelia and Fu-er, waving at them as she headed towards the Lily Pavilion.

“I’ll see you guys after the banquet, ok?”

“Make sure to clean that dirt off your nose! I’m sure the prince will be absolutely enamored by your hygiene,” shouted Kelia as she turned towards the quarters of the outer household, located nearer to the Villa’s gates and across the orchard from the Learning Pavilion. Fu-er laughed, walking in a separate tangent towards the pavilions of the garrison officers.

***

A third sash in shades of forest green and bronze fluttered onto Yue’s mattress, a frustrated Yue throwing death glares at her dark wood cupboard. Royal Beast Weaver Ning Xiao leaned against the timber door frame to her room, arms crossed with amused impatience.

“Moonlight, since when were you so critical of your wardrobe? You’ve always been happy with your formal dress robes.”

“It has been ages since I’ve attended a banquet of this magnitude, Father. And besides, I’m a formal apprentice now. I need to present myself as such,” Yue reasoned levelly, even as her heart beat fast with anticipation at reuniting with Ye Yang and the prince.

Her father’s eyes glowed suddenly. “Your heart threads are fluttering quick as a swallow, moonlight. Why is that?”

Yue flushed, waving her hands at her dad. “Father, you’re not allowed to use your thread sight on me! That’s cheating. Go to the banquet already, old man, I’ll be there before it starts officially.” She pushed her father’s tall laughing bulk out of her room, sliding her door firmly shut and blew at her bangs.

She debated between four dress robes she procured from a traveling merchant during her last visit to the the capital. As the last rays of sunset winked from her room, Yue decided on a simple layered dress of white silk with slender stalks of yellow daisies and pastel roses below her waist, before tying a sash of shimmering silver just below her budding chest. She sat in front of a round silver dish, braiding her hair up into the customary Skarian updo and pinned it down with silver hair sticks. Yue slipped into a pair of white linen flats and pulled on a long, pastel rose fur robe over her simple dress to shield herself against the early winter chill. Yue glanced at her silver dish again and, satisfied, breezed out into the common room she shared with her father.

Candlelight from the garden outside reflected into her eyes, catching her attention. In the corner of the common room was her father’s scaled armor of midnight, hung on a display timber pole shaped in a T. He must have polished it after leaving Yirlhil in her care this morn and left it to dry on the balcony. Yue walked over quietly, reaching out reverentially to stroke the famed Skarian imperial armor. Behind slender pieces of hardened steel was a layer of soft beaten leather. Leaning in close, she noticed a complex web of scratches and cuts on the midnight scales. Yue cocked her head in contemplation. There was never any mention of battle in her father’s stories, not like the ones reflected in front of her.

A deep drumbeat sounded from the Dancing Peony Pavilion. Once…twice, signaling the start of the banquet. Yue straightened reluctantly. She gave one last longing glance at the imperial armor, resolving to ask her father about the battles he has seen. As she walked out into the candlelit paths connecting the inner household wing with the central pavilion, she looked up at the shimmering crescent moon, anticipating the day she graduated from the learning pavilion and earned her own scaled armor. Earned her place beside her father, Ye Yang…and Prince Yin Long.