“Indeed,” Iyoke said, “much would have been different if you had hastened.”
“Perhaps. And yet, even so, I found joy at that time of desolation.”
Iyoke looked into his eyes and wrinkled her brow. “Did you?” she asked, sadly.
“The couriers brought letters to Hans from you. That good prince is a man of action not of words. I feared you would be as hurt as I was, a voice sent on the wind searching for a response. Therefore, I asked Hans to give me permission to answer your letters.”
“And what did I write of?” she asked him.
“Of hearts, of beauty, of stones, and twigs. You wrote of whatever took your fancy. Without pretense, without guile. So, lacking in purposeful charm, they were charm in perfect essence.”
Iyoke broke into tears, joy and sorrow intermixed. She looked back toward the cabin of the ship where Hans danced with his new bride. “So, it was you I loved?” she asked Jaejoong.
“And I who loved you,” he answered. “Iyoke, we two cast-off ones have each other. Do we not already know each other’s hearts?”
So, to the surprise and joy of all, Jaejoong Crown Prince of the far eastern lands—a kingdom quite large, and greatly feared—married Queen Mizaka’s ugly changeling daughter.
For Iyoke’s marriage: scarlets and velvets. Silks, satins and linens. Pearl-decked pillows, alabaster jars of spices and perfumes! But more: For Iyoke and Jaejoong, princes bowed, processions of princes from distant lands. For them, a feast of one-hundred-and-eighty-days. For them, not one but eighty ships to attend the future Queen Iyoke and all the royal family, guards, servants, and courtiers, to her new home in the east.
Unaccustomed to such honor, Iyoke fled to her room. To be the praised and admired center of everyone’s world troubled her. In the marriage chamber she stayed, away from all eyes but her husband. Only to Jaejoong would she speak.
“My husband,” she said. “All this love and honor! To be the respected center of such joy, the praised word on everyone’s tongue, to have my family bow to me – I am unaccustomed to it.”
Jaejoong laid his head between her naked breasts. “A new task has been given you,” he said, smiling up at her. He stroked her braids which hung about her shoulder. “To receive such blessings as if they’re your due. Pretend as I do.” He burst out laughing. “It is the way of kings.” The next morning, she put on royalty and ventured out again.
Feast followed feast, and with each passing ceremony, Iyoke’s royal family was made to bow even lower before her. It hurt the new princess that her family should be made to bow before her. But she was no longer Iyoke the changeling princess of the southern kingdom: she was the wife of the Crown Prince of the great eastern lands. Pomp was not her desire, but pomp was her due.
After many days, the time came for Queen Mizake and her family to depart. At the imperial table, Sembele spoke. She straightened her back and inhaled deeply. “That mother should be compelled to bow to you!” she said. “That my eyes should be open to see this!”
“It is not my will.” Iyoke squeezed her husband’s hand, trembled at her sister’s anger. “The people will it so.”
Her husband corrected his love, turned his eyes to behold his wife’s face. “Your own people, the people of the eastern lands, will it so.”
“A people that would have been my people,” Sembele said under her breath.
“My love”—Prince Hans sat at his wife’s left.—“Am I not enough?”
“Enough,” she said, fuming. “But not your kingdom.”
Hans stood up, bowed to those at the table and walked outside. Nunu also rose. The King of the eastern lands clasped his hands called for more wine and Queen Mizake kept on eating.
“My sister, Iyoke”—Nunu extended her hand.—“come and wonder at your kingdom with me.”
Iyoke stood up, bowed to her new royal parent who smiled upon her, bowed to her mother Queen Mizake. Slowly she let loose her husband’s hand.
This is what Nunu said as they walked the ship, chrysanthemums and lilies to be transplanted in the royal gardens swaying near their feet. “For one year, I’ve been married to Prince Biodun.”
“A blessing, Sister,” Iyoke answered.
“I was not as lovely as Sembele,” Nunu continued, “and the wealth of our kingdom did not hang upon my back, arms, ankles, and neck. But I was a princess so a husband was easily found.”
“True words, Sister,” Iyoke peered into the mental distance at the land that had never quite been her native home.
“Biodun is a handsome, affable man,” Nunu said. “His black skin is velvet as the night. His eyes shine with wisdom. His lips utter wit. True, he is proud, but he is third in line to rule a great southern kingdom.”
“You are truly blessed, My Sister,” Nunu said, her eyes shining with happiness for her sister.
But tears fell from Nunu’s eyes. She spoke slowly. “Blessed, but not loved.”
Iyoke hugged her sister. “He will learn to love you yet, Sister. Your kindness and shrewdness will make it so.”
“Perhaps he will love me for those few charms I have. If love comes, it comes. But in whatever state I am, I have learned to be satisfied. Biodun is allowed a harem. Limitless. As many as the stars if he wishes. Doubtless he will find many lovelier than I who will rejoice his heart and perhaps will apportion less and less of his heart to me as the years go by. But you and I are quite armed against being unloved. Our father and mother have taught us well, have they not?”
“They have, Sister.”
Although her sister spoke bitter words, Iyoke could not help but see the wisdom in them. Both Nunu and Iyoke had lived in the shadow of their well-favored, much-honored sister. Their spirits had not been honed to praise, or their souls to expecting greatness. Iyoke turned her inward gaze from
