I remember, long ago, when I was an apprentice alchemist on the moon.

Of course, we didn’t call it “the moon” back then. We used a different term for our home, something in the old language that is today replaced with the word “Luna.” We were more accurate in doing so. The moon is hardly that. It’s derogatory to reduce Terra’s sister planet to a mere satellite. It makes Luna sound less important than Terra, as if Terra were the center of attention and Luna simply an afterthought.

Such was untrue for we who lived there. Luna was our home, and Terra was the afterthought. In the daily lives of people, Terra was a pretty blue-white source of light in the night sky. It earned the same regard that Luna has earned from Terrans. Our poets composed their songs about Earth. Couples made love by Earth’s light. Scientists spun their theories and spoke their hypothesizes about what life might dwell there. Historians struggled to keep our archaic connections with Earth from completely falling out of public memory.

For me, though? Earth was just a convenient source of light. It let me work long hours, alone in the student’s laboratory after my peers had gone to bed. Terra’s light came in through the windows, casting its blue and white glow on my beakers and tubes and burners. If I never paused to ignite a sparklamp or light a candle, I might forget that it was two hours past bedtime, or only seven hours until breakfast. The mind forgets the body’s needs when utterly absorbed, as my work absorbed me.

I muttered to myself as I traced the flow of fluids from one container to another. All my attention on my own thoughts, I didn’t notice the half-spoken concepts tumbling out of my mouth as if I were a madwoman.

“If the stagnation period is sufficient...,” I said under my breath. “Then why dissipated before contacting the fourth? Material capacity isn’t breached.... Doesn’t approach the limit. But it’s atrophy, not.... Unless... maybe. The capacity is too low. Not enough.... It would blow up in my face.”

I hammered on the unsolvable problem, which was more than it appeared to be. To the untrained eye, nothing exciting happened this night in the student’s lab. Nothing but a teenage alchemist-to-be staying up late to finish a project. Never mind that no project was due the following morning. Ignore that this girl was a notorious over-achiever, one who accomplished all assignments with perfect grades from no desire to please her teachers but from every desire to satisfy her own intellect.

To any who shared my schooling in magic, the implied problem would be understood. They too would see a girl sitting at an alchemist’s bench, but would also see the more important metaphysical currents underlining her work. They would see the flow of energies that followed fluid through the tubes, from one container to another. They would see how magical power wove together, became a tapestry, became a spell that anyone could use through the application or ingestion of a potion. The best of alchemists, perhaps a few of my teachers, would recognize the purpose beneath it all.

That frightened me. That was why I could work only when alone, only after the lab was empty. That was why I couldn’t ask for a teacher’s advice. That was, no doubt, part of what kept me so interested. Not only did the work itself fascinate me, but it was taboo. Illegal. Perhaps even morally wrong. Doing something above conventional laws added an exciting spice to the work. So it seemed to me, a young woman foolish in all ways but the technicals of her schooling.

So involved I was that I squealed when something interrupted me.

---

“Hello?” A soft voice spoke into the room, echoed off the stone walls.

I let out my surprised noise, jumped an inch off the bench. I put a hand on my chest, to steady my pounding heart. I breathed heavily to recover from being startled.

Don’t let it be anyone I know, I said. None of the other students. None of the teachers. I can’t let them see this.

“I’m in here,” I said. “I know it’s late, but I was working on....” My voice trailed off as I tried to think of some believable lie.

I didn’t need the lie. The person who stepped into lab was someone I knew, but not an alchemist of any rank. I blinked, surprised.

“Princess?” I said.

She walked in from the entrance, moving around some tables and workbenches. Here was a girl exactly my age, but who shared nothing else in common with me. Where I’m tall for my age, she’s short for the same. My hair is light-colored, like most Lunarian women. Hers is charcoal black, an unusual trait that follows her royal bloodline, and made her seem highly attractive to Lunarian men. Most of such men would feel both aroused and scandalized to see her as I did now. She wore only bedclothes and a house jacket, with slippers that made her steps silent on the palace’s stone floors.

“Princess Kaguya.” I stood up from the bench, straightened out my lab smock. My hair was probably a mess, and I hadn’t bathed since this morning. I was nowhere near presentable to royalty. I bowed to her anyway, hoping to show a scrap of respect.

“Eiriiiin,” she said. She moaned the third syllable of my name. “I’ve told you before. Just call me Kaguya when no one else is around. Aren’t we friends?”

I looked up at her. She asked a good question. Were we friends? Could that word have any meaning between us two? She, the crown princess, chosen to assume the throne the instant of her father’s death. Me, a member of the Yagokoro alchemist clan. The kindest possible interpretation of our relationship was that of queen and servant. By no means were we equals, and friendship requires equality.

But, no. That gave all consideration to worldly titles and none to the actual people. I could be a personal friend to the princess, putting aside all roles and ranks. But even then, were we friends? I hadn’t known Kaguya for very long. Of course, I had known of her my entire life. My parents and teachers always mentioned her as an afterthought when discussing the royalty. Long live the king, good and kind and strong is he. Oh, and by the way, he has a daughter. And you share the princess’s birthday, Eirin. What a good omen that is!

But I hadn’t met Kaguya in person until a few months ago, when I began schooling that required me to work in the palace. For no reason I could tell, Kaguya went out of her way to talk with me. She liked to say hello, ask me if I enjoyed the palace, ask about my alchemy work. It was more attention than I cared for. If I said one wrong thing, let slip one word that hurt the princess’s feelings, she would run crying to her father and dump an entire government on my head. I felt enough like I was walking on a razor’s edge, just being in the palace. I didn’t need the king angry with me.

Worst of all, Kaguya called herself my friend. That opened so many paths to trouble.

These thoughts flickered through my mind, and I seized up. I didn’t respond to the princess, and she used that time. Just after she finished speaking, as if she expected me to enter a mind-obsessed stasis, she stepped up to me and knocked a knuckle on my forehead. I blinked, felt the thump reverberate through my skull.

“You think too much, Eirin,” she said.

“I, um, sorry. Princess.” I swallowed. “What can I do for you? Isn’t it late for you to be up?”

“I could say the same for you.” Kaguya stepped around me, sat on the bench where I had been working. She wiggled her backside to get comfortable, and a strange thought occurred to me.

She can feel my warmth on the seat. I was just sitting there and she can feel my body heat on her butt.

I gave my head a gentle shake, as if to dislodge the thought. Perverted of me to think such things.

“I’m working on something for class,” I said. “I’m cramming to get it done before tomorrow.”

“I could tell,” said Kaguya. Her hands were on the lip of the seat. Her legs were short, so that her feet didn’t quite touch the floor. She kicked her legs gently, making her seem younger than she was. “My bedroom is two stories up, almost right above us. I could hear someone muttering through my window, so I came to see. I had a feeling it’d be you.”

“I was... muttering?” I said. I scraped through my memory, embarrassed. I couldn’t recall talking to myself.

Kaguya smiled at me. “You always get so caught up in your work. That’s one of the cute things about you.”

“I, um...,” was all I could say. There is no protocol of decorum that describes how to react when royalty calls you cute.

“But!” said Kaguya. She stood up on the bench, which let her stand taller than me. “Something isn’t right here.”

My breath caught in my throat. Please, no. She isn’t an alchemist. She doesn’t know what I’m doing. Don’t let her know.

“You have never been late on an assignment before,” she said, looking down at me. She folded her hands into the sleeves of her jacket. “Everyone knows Eirin, all too willing to turn in her projects three days ahead of time. Always getting perfect scores, because she gives the teachers the answers they’re looking for. But she makes it known when she thinks those answers are wrong. She even gets into arguments with her teachers.”

My mouth hung open. “How...? How do you—”

“I hear the masters talking about you,” she said. “In the upstairs dining hall. I eat there sometimes, even though I’m not supposed to. The masters get together and chat about work, about the things that bother them. Like this one student, the Yagokoro girl. She is both the easiest and hardest part of their jobs, they say. She’s brilliant but she wants to teach the class herself.”

I had nothing to say. I didn’t know which bothered me worse. The teachers talking behind my back, or the princess being interested enough to learn about me.

“And that brings me to tonight,” said Kaguya. “You, here, alone. In the lab, working on something all by yourself. It’s not a school project. If it were, you would’ve aced it days ago, instead of staying up late to finish like you were, oh, I don’t know, a normal student.”

“Uh, Princess. I, um.”

Kaguya leaned forward. She would have fallen off the bench, but that her hands landed on my shoulders. I bent back under her weight. Her hair hung down around her face, and it gave her an imposing position to glare down into my eyes.

“So!” she said. “You must be doing something other than school work. Something worth staying up late for. What is it?”

I reached up and grabbed the princess’s wrists. I hesitated before making the contact. It was against the law to make uninvited contact with royal personage. But Kaguya was acting like a girl instead of royalty.

“Nothing you would find interesting, Princess,” I said.

She shook her head down at me, her hair waving around. “You can’t sidestep a monarch’s questions.”

“You aren’t the monarch yet, Princess.” I did something daring. I let go of her wrists, then leaned forward and wrapped my arms around her midsection. I felt the warm softness of her back under my grip, of her belly against my shoulder. I lifted her off the bench and set her down on the floor beside me, which gave me back the height advantage.

Manhandling the princess would have me swarmed by guards in seconds. They would tear her from my arms, slap me in shackles and throw me in the dungeon. A frightened part of me thought Kaguya might cry for help. Guards! Get her off me!

She didn’t cry for help. She giggled. “Whooo! Heeheehee!” Playful. As if she enjoyed being hefted around.

That scared me far worse than the thought of guards. I set her down and let go, wishing to encourage no more royal giggling.

“I mean not to insult your intelligence,” I said. “But truthfully, I don’t think you’ll understand an alchemy project. There’s too much jargon.”

“Hmph. You’re dodging the question again. But no problem.” She glanced around the room, as if looking for the means to pry information out of me. She looked out a window. “You know what? It’s a nice night. Let’s go for a walk.”

I shook my head. “Princess, really. I think we should both go to bed. I have class tomorrow, and—”

She did something that silenced me. She took my hand in her own, interlocked her fingers with mine. This touch was more intimate than before. I felt the texture of her fingers on the back of my hand. Felt her palm against mine. She was small, compared to me.

“No more,” she said. “I’m a spoiled little princess, and I’m used to getting my way. And if I tell one of my retainers that we’re going for a walk, then we will go for a walk. Do you understand me?”

My shoulders drooped. I felt the day catch up to me, and I was suddenly exhausted. Perhaps it was weariness triggered by dealing with a frustrating princess.

“Yes,” I said. To get a petty bit of revenge, I added, “Though pulling royal rank doesn’t earn you any friends.”

Kaguya smiled at me again. This time, it was more a devilish look. Sneaky and mischievous.

“You’re right,” she said. “Hasn’t worked so far. But I’ve got other ways.”

---

Going for a walk was a more complicated endeavor than expected from the simplicity of the phrase. We couldn’t simply stroll out of the palace, or even within it. Guards patrolled through the palace halls and stood at every exit. Some spots were set with magical wards that were nearly impossible to disarm without alerting the night shift of guardian mages. If we tripped these wards, or were spotted by a guard, we would be separated and sent to bed.

I was ready to use these difficulties as an excuse to get away from the princess. My nerves were too worn already. Being friendly with Kaguya was more risk than I wanted to take.

But she had a solution.

“Follow me,” she said, stepping across the room. Her hand was still on mine, and she dragged me with her. “Let’s go out the window.”

“What?” I said.

We were on the ground floor, so the drop from the lab window was only half again my own height. The ground below was the soft grass of the palace lawn, with no bushes or shrubbery. Best of all, the lab window gave a wide view of the surrounding courtyard. Kaguya leaned out the window, looking left and right, and saw no guardsmen. We could get out without being seen.

“It’s clear.” Kaguya pulled my hand toward the window. “You go out first, then catch me.”

“Princess,” I said. “I don’t want to get in trouble tonight. If anyone sees us—”

“Then I’ll take the blame,” said Kaguya. “I’ll say that I forced you to come with me, and you complained the whole time about how you wanted to go back inside and follow rules like a good little girl.” She glanced back at me, one eyebrow raised. “Total truth, so far.”

Her words stung me. Follow rules like a good little girl. As if I had no personality of my own? As if my sole joy in life was doing what authority figures demanded of me? She challenged me, daring me to be myself rather than an automaton of the rules. It wounded my pride.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Kaguya smiled. She bobbed her head out the window, gesturing me out.

I stepped up beside her. She let go of my hand so I could climb up onto the window sill. I paused to judge my fall, then leaped forward. I was in air for less than a second. My shoes thumped onto the grass. I bent my knees to lessen the shock of landing. The impact rang all up through me.

I was outside. I stood on a short grassy slope that led down to a cobblestone walkway, which lead off through the palace grounds. I turned to the window, ready to motion Kaguya out. She was already in air when I looked up at her. My heart pounded hard once in surprise. I didn’t have time to react. I held up my arms, half meaning to catch her and half out of reflex to protect myself. I failed in both ways.

Her body slammed down into mine. Her pelvis hit me in my gut and her breastbone smacked me in the face. Her center of balance was too high, and she tipped me over. I fell back on the grass. I tried to cushion my fall, but flailing limbs tangled us together. We rolled down the grass slope and slammed hard into the stone walkway. My chest compacted between Kaguya’s weight and the ground. I coughed out an unph!

I lay there still, coping with a dozen fresh aches, trying to catch my breath, waiting for the world to stop spinning around me. I felt the sharp undulations of Kaguya’s stomach as she giggled again.

“Wooo,” she said, sounding dizzy. “Sorry, Eirin. Sorry. That wasn’t as fun as I thought.”

But it didn’t stop her from laughing about it. She disentangled herself and sat up beside me. I stayed on the ground for a moment longer.

I took a deep breath in, let it out. I looked up at the night sky. Uncounted stars, all flickering and shining bright. Terra off in one corner, casting its blue and white tint over the palace.

“Eirin?” said Kaguya. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, Princess,” I said. I wanted to say more, to scold her for acting so wildly. But I could scold no one, but for berating myself with my own thoughts. I was confused.

Why couldn’t I help noticing every time she touched me? This was more than the fear of breaching decorum. Physical contact with Kaguya stirred something inside me. I couldn’t put words to it.

“Then are you all right?” she said.

“I’m fine.” I sat up, pushing away embarrassing thoughts. “But, Princess, night walks should be peaceful. Please, no more jumping on things. Least of all me.”

“Of course, of course.” Kaguya stood, brushed her bedclothes and jacket. She pulled me up from the ground, which put her hands on my arms and shoulders. Given our height difference, the gesture of helping me to my feet was useless, unless she was looking for excuses to touch me.

“Thank you, Princess,” I said, brushing the grass and dust off my smock. “Where did you plan on going?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Kaguya took my hand again. “Let’s just see where the night takes us.”

---

The courtyard around the Lunar Royal Palace was the height of Tsukito engineering and design. Or that’s what the palace guides said to the commoners who came in for tours. While there was some impressive architecture composing the palace and its environs, none of it was consistent. Sharp towers poked up to the sky, some with decorative spires and some without. Beside those towers were long and flat buildings for administrative work, more utilitarian and less ornamental.

The whole place was colored monochromatic. Everything was either from dark brick or white stone, light-colored metal or stained wood. The varying shades of white and black became more stark at night. The darkness deepened dark colors and highlighted light colors, so that the palace was visually polarized. Add the white-blue glow of Terra, and it all became dreamlike.

Part of me wished this were a dream. Taking a royally-mandated night walk, with a highly incriminating princess hanging off my hand. She clung to me not for warmth. The air was cool but not cold. It countered the day’s heat, still radiating up from the walkway beneath us. Tonight’s walk was the fruition of Kaguya’s attitude toward me over the short time since we had met. Why was she so interested in me?

I decided this was my opportunity to find out. But I couldn’t ask directly.

“Princess,” I said. “If I may say, I’m most impressed with the regard you show for your subjects.”

She glanced at me. Her expression crossed between a smile and confusion.

She’s cute. The thought popped into my head uninvited. I pushed it away. I refused to have inappropriate ideas about my princess.

“What do you mean?” she said.

“Oh, I speak from experience,” I said. “You’ve always been so kind when we meet. You ask about my work, even though I’ve never been able to explain it well.”

Kaguya raised an eyebrow at me. “I’m not like that with everyone, Eirin.”

I looked at her, feigning surprise. “Oh, no?”

She shook her head. “Most people are boring. I mean, you know who I get to see in an ordinary day? My Inaba servants. My tutors. The palace guards. Sometimes, my father. And that’s all. Everything in my life is just pushing me to become the queen. I never talk to anyone unless it’s for royal education, as they put it.”

“But there’s all kinds of people in the palace,” I said. “There’s the alchemists like me. There’s mages, artisans, accountants, cooks, merchantmen. Can’t you ever talk to them?”

She rolled her eyes. “I can. Wanting to is something else.”

“Then what qualifies as a person you want to talk to?”

“I don’t know. You.”

The inflection of her voice implied she was about to sound off a list. You, this person, that person, some other person, but she didn’t.

I waited for that list, and didn’t hear it. My attention fell over itself.

“Just... me?” I said.

Kaguya seemed to realize how imposing a statement it was, so she compensated. She pulled her hand from mine, folded her hands into the sleeves of her jacket.

“You can’t blame me!” she said. “You’re interesting, Eirin. I don’t mean because of your alchemy work, because I don’t understand too much of that. I more mean the way you get absorbed. I’ve never seen anyone get into their work like you do. You study alchemy like it really means something. You do it like you love it.”

I looked forward, down the path. I shrugged, trying to look more casual than I felt.

“I do love it,” I said. “Alchemy is my life’s work. I’m a Yagokoro, after all.”

Kaguya’s eyes narrowed. I had said something that irritated her.

“That just means you’re lucky. Where you’re born and what you like are two different things. You love alchemy, and you’re a Yagokoro. A great match. But what if you had been born into another family? What if you were a slop girl working in some peasant’s kitchen? What if you grew up to be some farmer’s wife, where the highest education you’d ever get was learning how to read?”

That was an uncomfortable idea.

“The circumstances of my birth shouldn’t matter,” I said. “If I could at least read, I can always teach myself. I could practice alchemy in my free time, rather than doing it for a living.”

“With what materials? With what money? You were born into the Yagokoro family, which means you’d have all the support for mixing potions you could want. But it didn’t have to be that way. You could’ve been born into a family with none of those luxuries.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but my mind raced over any words I planned to speak. I didn’t like the picture Kaguya described. What if I had been born into a situation where I could never practice alchemy? Or if I wasn’t able to practice it proficiently, as often, or with the same supplies or equipment? I know that a love of magical mixing is a fundamental part of me, of my very personality. I don’t believe that growing up as a Yagokoro created the interest. I would be an alchemist at heart no matter the external situations of life.

But what does this say about the fates? Had life been kind to put me in the best place to develop my talents? Perhaps I should fall on my knees and thank whatever gods that I was born in the right time and place.

“I suppose,” I said. “But why say so, Princess? Are you trying to make a point?”

“Not really,” she said. “Just that you’re lucky. Not everyone is born into a life they love.”

She was trying to make a point, but by allusion. It took my young and self-centered mind too long to understand.

“Oh,” I said. “But Princess, you—”

She shook her head, and that gesture silenced me.

That instant is one that I would remember forever. She finished shaking her head, her eyes on the path ahead, her face showing resignation and a twinge of pain. In this frame of time, the sight of her stung my heart. She looked royal. Just as the monarchs of old, whose majesty was forever shown in masterwork paintings and magically-captured images.

Look at her. She is my queen. I love her as my ruler.

And it hurt to think that my queen didn’t want the job.

---

Walking randomly through the palace grounds, it’s inevitable we would end up at the sighter’s tower. There was nowhere else to go. Every building was either a residence or a workplace. People lived and labored at the palace, but rarely did anyone come for tourist interests. When groups of people on holiday or classes of students visited the palace, it was the sighter’s tower they came for.

The tower stood on the exact center of the grounds. It was the tallest structure in Tsukito, and even the next highest palace spire was several levels shorter. Whenever mentioned in official literature or communications from the throne, the tower was always called the “pinnacle of Tsukito engineering” and “combining the best designs of physical construction and magical support,” making it a symbol of “Tsukito’s enlightened balance between the material and the mystical.”

The engineers thought that a silver-stoned phallic symbol was their best accomplishment. Nothing better than having an enormous member wagging at the world. Boys will be boys.

I make the comparison not only in the physical sense. More than the tower’s shape, it was hugely wasteful in concept. The tower’s only practical purpose was that of the sight-seer’s platform. Tourists rode a magically-propelled elevator to the top, and looked out over Tsukito from an enclosed room. I saw the tower’s design prints. The entire shaft up to that room was empty space, save for triangular support beams that kept the structure standing. In the many years since the tower’s construction, its interior must have become a tangled forest of cobwebs and the nests of small animals who sneaked in through holes in the masonry.

My cynical thoughts receded from the tower’s figure against the night. As Kaguya and I approached, the sighter’s tower stood above us silent and still, like some mythical figure watching the world as it slept. We came at the tower from its rear. Its elevator faced the palace grounds entrance, opposite the court from the palace.

We walked the path that led around the tower’s base. The walkway ended in a short stone stairway that stepped up to the elevator. Though smooth on all other sides, the tower’s exterior wall was indented up and down its height to allow passage to the elevator platform.

Kaguya and I walked onto the platform. It was unsteady under us, dipping slightly as we stepped onto it. There sounded out a clunk as our weight triggered a magically-operated mechanism that engaged the elevator. Chains and gears embedded in the walls made noises. Clink clink ching ching chack chack chack chack chack...

The mechanics clanked as the platform rose. I felt heavier when our ascent began, but the motion smoothed. We rose, and the courtyard below us fell away.

Kaguya and I stood in the center of the platform. There was no safety railing at the elevator’s edge. We were exposed to the open night. A careless person could stumble off and fall to his death. One might attribute this design to the political atmosphere in Tsukito, the attitude of taking care of yourself and disallowing the individual from placing his faults on society in general or municipality in particular. Those more shrewd might blame it on rushed construction or limited funds.

I glanced at Kaguya, meaning to ask her thoughts. Her look changed my mind. She stood with her hands folded into the sleeves of her jacket, looking out over the palace grounds falling ever further beneath us. Her face was grave, downcast, even pained. I forgot whatever else I had been thinking about.

“Princess?” I said. “Is something wrong?”

She smiled, an exasperated look. She kept facing forward.

“I’m a hypocrite,” she said. “I said that you think too much when I....” She closed her eyes, shook her head. “I’m sorry, Eirin. I can’t. I just—”

The elevator reached the top. The platform slowed to a stop, which made me feel lighter for a moment before settling again. The machinery around us sounded chack chack chaaaaa-THUNK and was silent. We stood high above the palace grounds.

I meant to ask Kaguya what she was trying to say, but she turned from me. She walked off the elevator platform and into the tower’s entrance.

“Come, Eirin,” she said, and her voice trembled as she spoke. “I guess it’s finally time. We need to talk about something.”

I didn’t like the sound of that. Both the words and tone of voice were too grave for a young woman. But I followed her.

---

The entrance to the sighter’s tower was another magical marvel, something that sounded good in governmental speeches but was expensive and impractical in real life. Clever engineering, if the engineer has no regard for efficiency.

The tower’s entrance was a wide and tall doorway, but was covered with no door. No curtain, no partition, no retracting shutter, nothing physical separated the tower’s viewing room from the outdoors. The only barrier was a magical one. A thin, rippling layer of soft light. Any physical object could pass through it, with a mild degree of physical force. People could walk through with a push, feeling as though walking into a headwind. The barrier’s resistance was too much to allow even the strongest winds or precipitation that Tsukito weather could produce.

Kaguya and I stepped through the barrier. Our hair and clothes were pushed back, but for less than a second. We were through, and stood in a cozier place than the cool Tsukito night behind us.

The sighter’s tower lounge was what most people think of when the tower comes to mind. Here, atop the tower, was a large circular room. The walls were enchanted with persistent heat-transfer spells to keep the temperature mild against whatever hot or cold happened outside. Windows circled the whole room, giving onlookers a full-circumference view of the palace grounds and Tsukito beyond them. The room itself was stocked with cozy furniture. Armchairs and couches, all with fluffy cushions and cleanly upholstered. The floor was waxed hardwood. Everything was kept spotless and inviting, despite the number of people that might visit. This was public space, but a group of Inaba maids came at least once per day to repair any mess left by Tsukito’s masses.

Kaguya stepped into the lounge. She walked to the far side, looked out the window.

“I like it up here,” she said. “When there’s nobody around, that is. It’s quiet. This high up, it seems like I’m so far away from the world’s problems.”

I stepped up beside her, looked out with her. I could see the palace, laid out below us. From this height and angle, the royal dwelling seemed not so royal as it did childish. Mortal man’s attempts at greatness, shown for the temporal and useless thing it was, nothing but a building standing among other buildings.

Because it’s not the building that’s royal, I thought. It’s the people. Like this lovely young woman standing beside me.

I looked up from the palace, over the walls encircling the grounds, to the stretches of Tsukito beyond. Residential areas, marketplaces, industrial regions where food, wood, metal and stone were produced and refined. I recognized one complex near the palace grounds. The Tsukito Military Academy. There trained the warrior Inaba, the moon rabbits who would become Tsukito’s fighting force. During the day, groups of cadets would march around the Academy grounds in drill exercises.

“But I also hate it up here,” said Kaguya, snapping my attention back to her. “Looking over all this. It reminds me that I’ll rule Tsukito some day. Everything I see, and everything I can’t. It’ll all be mine. And if I make one mistake, one wrong decree, one bad decision, it’ll all come crashing down. It’ll be my fault.”

“Princess,” I said, trying to comfort her. “It would be foolish to think that everyone who sat in the throne wanted it. In fact, some argue that not wanting power is part of what makes a ruler worthy of it. It ensures that you won’t abuse it.”

Kaguya glanced at me sideways. “And if I don’t want that power? What if I’m scared that I’ll ruin the country? I want to refuse it. I want to be a normal girl, like you. I want to find something I love and do it.”

“You could grow to love the throne,” I said. “If you do what you know is right. If you rule the way you believe Tsukito should be ruled.”

“But I believe the best thing for Tsukito is that I don’t rule it. Maybe if I convince people of that, they’ll let me step down.”

I shook my head. “No, Princess. The law says that, by blood—”

She spoke over me. “I know, Eirin. My tutors tell me over and over. Royal ascension law. I am the crown princess, and so I’ll become queen the instant my father passes away.” She swept an arm at the window. “Then I’ll rule all this. Tsukito, its lands, its people, its money. All of it will be mine to use as I see fit, so long as I can get a bunch of councilors to agree with me, but it’ll all be my fault no matter what they say and I love you.”

---

Time froze. My breathing stopped, and my heart pounded hard. Those last words hung on the air.

I didn’t believe what I had just heard. It was a mistake, a misunderstanding. She said something else that just sounded like... and I love you.

I looked at Kaguya, confused.

“What?” I said.

Kaguya took in a sharp breath, like a girl about to cry. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, turned away from me.

“I wasn’t brave enough to say that!” she said. “I thought about it for so long and I couldn’t, I just—”

“Kaguya,” I said, and it shocked me to hear her proper name in my voice. Not Princess, but Kaguya. Because the instant she spoke those three words, we were no longer princess and subject. No longer ruler and retainer. We were equals. Both young women, and both baffled by what she had said.

I grabbed her by the shoulders, hoping to keep her from running away. I wanted her to explain.

She stood still and said nothing. She didn’t struggle out of my hold, simply stood there with my hands on her shoulders.

“Kaguya.” I said her name again. I tried to say something helpful, despite how nervous I felt. “You can’t mean what you just said. At least, not in the way it sounded like you meant it.”

She sniffled. She was crying.

“Why not?” she said, her voice thick. “I’m a princess. You can’t tell me how I feel.”

“But...,” My mind raced, trying to make sense. Spinning around and getting nowhere. “But we’re both girls. It doesn’t happen like that. You’re suppose to find some nice man and marry him and rule beside him.”

She sniffled again. “I want to rule beside you. I want you to be my husband. Every time I’ve seen you, I can’t help thinking, look how beautiful she is. Look how smart she is. I want to be like her. I want to be with her. I can’t get you out of my head. I think about you all the time. My tutors get so frustrated when I’m daydreaming about you.”

She stepped back and leaned into me. Her back pressed into my stomach, and her head rested against my chest. The top of her head was just under my chin. She grabbed both my hands with her own, then wrapped my arms around her front. She wanted me to hug her.

“I love you, Eirin,” she said. “I know it’s awful and it makes me a pervert, but I don’t care. I love you.”

I was shocked. My mouth hung open. For once in my life, my mind failed me. I pushed for a solution, something logical to say or do, but nothing came to me. My brain felt like it was covered in hot fuzz. My face was burning. My heart pounded away and I was short of breath. For an instant, I despaired in confusion. I was lost. I didn’t know what to do or how to feel.

But then a solution did come. Something strong spoke out, from someplace other than my mind. This solution wasn’t logical. It made no sense at all. But it was right. It was pure and whole and correct. I grasped it, and it acted through me.

I hugged Kaguya. More than her pinning my limp arms to her front, I put my own weight and strength into it. I held her tight. I leaned my cheek against the side of her head, and I whispered into her ear.

“I love you, too. I’ll happily rule beside you.”

---

Nine words.

I spoke a different tongue then, but when I translate into modern speech, it comes out as nine words. When I look back on that moment, I remember those words. What meaning and power they carried, far more than I realized at the time. Especially that the words made so little sense. I couldn’t rule beside Kaguya. Nor could she rule at all, if she took me as her significant other. The political powers of Tsukito would never allow it. Marriage was an institution between a man and woman. Any same-gender pairings were simply not considered. A homosexual relationship was a bad, disgusting, irreverent, detestable thing.

We must keep this secret, the thought came into my head. It was the last contribution my logical mind made that night. It was a helpful idea, as far as it went. I didn’t think, I can’t do this or, We can’t be together. There was no questioning our union. It wasn’t even a matter of being together, for we already were together. We had both expressed love for the other, and for that we were sealed. A bond between two girls, expressed from eternities and dimensions unknowable.

I didn’t realize it yet, but we were spouses. We were together in a way tighter and truer than any mortal law could comprehend. But mortal law could separate us physically, so we must keep it secret.

Kaguya bent herself against me, showing that she wanted to turn around. I loosened my hug on her enough that she could face me. She looked up at me. Her eyes were red and her cheeks were wet. Her face was blotchy. She wasn’t pretty while crying, but I didn’t care. Her looks mattered not at all in this moment. I cared about her. The person. The girl. The princess. The queen. The woman I loved.

Kiss her, whispered something else inside me. Not my mind. It would never suggest such a crazy thing. But craziness was the flavor of the evening, so I obliged.

I lowered my face to hers so that our noses touched. I craned my neck as if I intended to speak into her mouth, I puckered my lips to hers, and I kissed her. She kissed back.

I felt her breath. I tasted the salty tears on her lips. My heart and my head stumbled over the awkward glory of it all.

I love her. She is my queen and I love her.

---

The patterns of romantic stories might expect our encounter that night to reach a romantic climax. Taking all our clothes off, feeling skin on skin, making sweet love on the lounge furniture. While that kind of scene happened many times afterwards, we got no further than a kiss this night. Our nerves were too frayed to do any more.

After kissing once, we stood still and held each other for a long while. I don’t remember specifics, but we sat down on a couch together, and then lay down and cuddled. We fell asleep together, both fully clothed, having shared no more physical contact than a hug and a kiss.

“Eirin. Wake up. Eirin!”

I awoke to the princess moving against me. She untangled herself, getting off the couch and standing up.

“Wake up, Eirin! It’s morning.”

My eyes snapped open. I took in a sharp breath. Warm sunlight came in through the lounge windows. My eyes felt dry. I was stiff and cramped all over from sleeping in a strange position. My left hand was numb and tingling. I sat up, looking around.

“Oh,” I said. “Oh no.”

My logical mind came back from its leave. My stomach sank. It was morning. Judging by the angle of sunlight, late morning. My classes started hours ago. I would be punished for tardiness. And not even mentioning what had happened last night. I had kissed the princess! I had told her I loved her! If anyone found out, I would be hung and beaten until my bones fell out.

“Get up.” Kaguya had me by the hand, pulling me up from the couch. “We have to go. We can’t be seen here.”

“No. You’re right. We can’t.” I stood up. “Let me go down first, Princess. Then you wait a while before following.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “You care more about your classes than I care about mine. But!” She put a fist into my stomach, playfully mock-punching me. “Call me Kaguya when we’re alone.”

I smiled at her, and I felt a snide reaction. A way to get back at her for making me late for class.

“As you wish, Princess.”

Kaguya twisted her fist into my gut. I laughed and backed away from her. She leaned forward, intent to punish me, but it put her off balance. I grabbed her and held her in a close hug.

“Later, Princess. We’ll see each other again later, won’t we?”

“The royalty demands it,” she said. “And then, maybe, we’ll kiss again.”

I considered kissing her now, but this wasn’t the time for it. We were both late. We would both have to make up excuses, tell lies about where we had been and why. But that didn’t matter. I would spin a web of lies so intricate that it stretched from now to death, if I could hold Kaguya in my arms.

“I think we will, Princess.” Then, as a compromise, I pushed back her bangs and kissed her on the forehead. “I think we will.”