by Devin Madson
“No details,” I said. “And I will not hear my cousin disparaged for the sort of choices you have made yourself, Your Majesty.”
Kin’s jaw clenched hard. “Your meaning, Your Grace?”
I sighed. “You and Katashi are the same. Both of you would hate to know it and would never admit it, but your love for your empire and your family is superseded by only one thing—hatred of each other. What wouldn’t you do, what wouldn’t you give, to see him crushed and destroyed? Not just beaten in a slow, draining war, but truly broken, his very image and legacy devastated beyond recall? He feels the same way about you. I, on the other hand, am still sane enough to see there are some paths one should never walk, regardless of their destination.”
“Such as attacking Shimai, perhaps.”
“Perhaps, or considering getting Chiltae involved in this war to crush Katashi.”
He met my gaze as I spoke, barely a change in his expression. “Something you have reason to think I have considered?”
“Why wouldn’t you have considered it? It was the first thing I thought of when I heard you were pressuring Katashi’s allies. You must have known he could not leverage more northern support by restoring lands taken in the treaty without incurring the wrath of Chiltae. How short a step from there to considering incurring their wrath on his behalf? But that might soon become your war too, and it is hardly the act of a man who believes in an emperor’s responsibilities over an emperor’s rights.”
Silence hung while Kin’s jaw worked, until at last he clasped his hands upon the table before him. “You would make quite a formidable opponent, Your Grace, but I must admit I’m at a loss to understand you.”
I lifted my chin. “Oh?”
“You ride with your cousin’s army, clearly showing that you have chosen a side in this war, and yet you take great risk to be here tonight, breaking faith with him in a way I do not imagine he will easily forgive.”
A stab of panic flared at his words as I imagined, not for the first time, just how furious Katashi would be if he found out. I swallowed it down and tried to appear calm and unconcerned.
“This,” he went on, “is a sacrifice you are willing to make for Kisia, for the greater good of her people, yet still you choose not to do the one thing that could more surely shorten this war than anything else. When it comes to marriage, your sense of duty has no power over you.”
“Is it not enough that I ride with my cousin’s army?” I said, slowly spinning my tea bowl. I wished, foolishly, that support of Katashi did not mean outright rejection of Kin. I had come to respect him too much.
“No, it is not enough,” Kin said. “You are no treasonous general. General Manshin makes a point by choosing to fight for Katashi, you make a point by choosing not to marry him—forgive me if I am mistaken in that assumption, of course,” he added stiffly. “But I feel quite sure I would be one of the first made aware of such a change in circumstances.”
I swallowed hard. “You are correct. I have… refused to marry him.”
“That added to the fact that he has named you duke of Koi speaks merely to the fact that you are ambitious for your own sake, nothing more. By your own admission, you know there is no chance of mediation here. I detest your cousin as he detests me, and neither of us would spare any power we possessed to destroy the other—that, I’m afraid, cannot be changed. And as evenly matched foes, this could be a very painful and very drawn out war that neither of us is willing to concede, not least of all because to do so would mean instant and most likely excruciating and humiliating death.
“But…” He rested his chin on his palm and regarded me across the table with something almost like an apologetic smile. “As Emperor Lan’s daughter, you carry all the weight of ancient legitimacy. By marrying one of us, you swing the balance, and many who have so far sat this fight out will side with you and the emperor you choose. That would mean a faster end to a war that might otherwise kill thousands and drag Kisia back to the dark days it suffered after your father’s death. I know you have your reasons not to marry, but I hope your reasons bring you enough joy to make up for the misery they inflict on others.” He leant forward. “You have a power, Hana, that you are choosing not to use.”
I wished I could be angry. Wished I could hate him for his words. But too much truth stood at the centre of so enraging a speech. I went on turning my tea bowl slowly, staring into its golden depths. “You make it sound as though you would rather I chose Katashi than that I made no choice at all.”
“No.”
With a rustle of that stiff imperial silk, Kin rose and came around the table, owning for an instant a hint of Katashi’s predatory grace. “Hana,” he said, kneeling on the matting beside me. “I swore to myself that I would not ask you again, that even Kisia was not worth such a blow to my pride, but how can I ask you to give up something important to you for your people without doing so myself?” He bowed, touching his forehead to the floor by my knee. “Lady Hana Otako, would you do me the great honour of sitting beside me as my empress, equal under law, and…” He looked up. “Much beloved of your emperor?”
I ought to have seen it coming. Perhaps I had, but now little in the way of thought was making it through the fearful pounding of my heart. Equal under law. It was exactly what I had told him I wanted. He had listened, not only to that but to everything else I had said and was looking at me now, if not with the same heat that always burned in Katashi’s eyes, with enough intensity to make my stomach flutter. I could say yes, could make what felt so much like the right choice for Kisia despite my family pride, but the consequences of that single word made me feel so sick I could not speak.
“If you are frightened of your cousin’s reaction, I promise you would be protected,” Kin said, rising from his bow. “The only thing I cannot promise is that I will be merciful.”
How could I agree to something that could so completely destroy Katashi? And yet as little as I wanted to say yes, did I want to say no? “I… am not… have not…” I swallowed hard, hating how suddenly childish and foolish I felt for having no definite answer. “Will you… will you please allow me a little time to consider your words, Your Majesty? I feel that, given the circumstances, it would be unwise for me to make any decision without giving due thought to all that has been said tonight.”
A frown flickered across his face, but he nodded. “I respect that you are in a very difficult position.”
I agreed, but he made no move to depart. Remaining at my side, he fixed me with his intent stare. “I meant what I said when I…” He drew a deep breath. “When I said you would be most beloved of your emperor. I have thought about you often and missed our… conversations.”
“Arguments, you mean.”
Kin snorted a laugh. “I have missed our arguments then and… often wished…” He leant closer, slowly enough that I could have backed away, excused myself, or escaped, but curiosity kept me planted. He did not brush my lips with his in the teasing way Katashi did, did not run his hands up my leg or devour me with his gaze. Kin was far more direct, but when he pressed a firm kiss to my lips it elicited no shiver of joy. None of the madness Katashi’s very presence could imbue came over me, and though the kiss was not unpleasant, I was glad when he pulled away.
“My apologies, Your Grace,” he said, a little thickly. “I ought not to have done that.”
“What is the purpose of being an emperor if you cannot occasionally do whatever it is you wish?” I replied lightly, preparing to rise. “I will send my maid to you with a reply in a day or so, Your Majesty. Please let your guards know to expect her, else she may be too frightened to come.”
“You may assure her that whatever answer she brings, she will be in no danger.”
“Thank you.” I bowed. “As good a moment to part as any, I feel.”
He finally moved then, rising from his place, though it was a few moments’ hesitation before he returned my bow. “Indeed, Your Grace. I will bid you goodnight.”
“Go
odnight, Your Majesty.”
He swept toward the door, and I was glad I would soon be alone with the tumult of my thoughts. The meeting had gone as well as I could have hoped and yet I felt exhausted and bruised.
The door slid open revealing General Ryoji blocking the passage. Quiet words passed between the two men, then with a nod, the general stepped back. For a brief moment, I caught his gaze over Kin’s shoulder and was shocked by his grim expression. He seemed hesitant to depart and I began to fear I may have been in more danger than I had thought.
Whether or not Kin had considered taking me prisoner, the two men were soon gone, replaced by Tili, who came in to ensure I was all right. Still kneeling at the table, I parted my lips to spill all that had happened upon her, but none of it would come out. How could I give voice to so much confusion? Duty made Kin the wisest choice, he the most established, the most stable, the most difficult to root out and destroy, and yet… How could I put into words that no matter how much I respected him, I could not love him, that I doubted he could ever make me feel the way Katashi did. It sounded so selfish to say that was important to me, but the truth was that though I might have been able to marry Kin for the sake of Kisia, I could not while his goal was the complete destruction of the man I loved.
“Lady Hana?” Tili said, kneeling where Kin had so recently sat beside me. “Are you all right?”
“No. I feel like an animal being tracked and I cannot even blame my hunter,” I said, feeling a little better to have some of the words out of me. “What wouldn’t I do to save my own life? That’s what it boils down to, isn’t it? Whoever loses the war dies.”
Whether or not she fully understood my meaning, Tili said, “His Majesty let Lord Otako go when he was young, my lady. You might be able to persuade him to be merciful again.”
Kin had said he would not be, but even had I been able to change his mind, I could no more condemn Katashi to return to the broken pieces of his old life than I could see him die. The truth was he ought never have been exiled at all. His father had committed treason, but that treason had died on the executioner’s block and ought to have left him emperor. No doubt Kin would say Katashi had been too young, or that public sentiment had turned against the family, or that in the aftermath of the war, it was best that the empire was led by an older, sturdy hand. But no man takes up the mantle of emperor through blood if he does not want to lead.
Never before had I wished I could rub the Otako off me, that I could scrape away all power and responsibility the name granted and be just Hana. I did not want to decide Kisia’s future when it meant condemning a good man to death.
“I am tired,” I said. “We should head back before we are missed.”
“As you wish, Your Grace.”
Before I could rise, heavy footsteps came along the passage and I tensed, listening, sure for a heart-stopping moment that Emperor Kin had changed his mind and sent soldiers back for me, his desperation outweighing all sense of honour. But when the door slid open so hard one of the paper panes snapped, it was not General Ryoji on the threshold but Shin.
“Where is he?” he demanded, stalking in with the landlord hovering behind him.
“Such behaviour is scandalous in a house of this repute,” the man said. “I asked you to wait, and—”
“Allow me to apologise for the commotion,” I said. “This man is a servant of mine and if you would but leave us, I am sure he will soon come to his senses.”
He looked shocked at being so dismissed but did grumblingly depart, shouting to all the interested onlookers in the passage to quit gawking.
Shin had not stopped seething by the time the door closed. “You,” he growled, jabbing a finger at me, “are a traitor.”
“I? How can—”
“Let me spare you the trouble of devising one of your eloquent speeches for me. That you felt the need to do this behind my back tells me all I need to know.”
I was sure it had been the right thing to do, yet his words stung, and I leapt up to meet him glare for glare. “Am I required to pass my every decision beneath your gaze for review?”
“You’re supposed to not commit treason! What did the Usurper buy you with, huh? What did he promise you? Pretty jewels and nice horses? An army of soldiers to satisfy your needs?”
I slapped him, the sting on my palm as satisfying as the shocked wince that passed across his face. “How dare you. If I had wanted such things, I would have married Kin the first time he asked, would have—”
He gripped my wrists, twisting enough that I gasped. “And if you had, I would have slit his throat and strung him up to drip-dry—”
“Let go!”
“—which is what I ought to have done while I had the chance and what I am going to do now.”
His fingers dug so painfully into my arms I was sure my bones would crack, and trying to pull free only made it worse. I kicked his ankle, once, twice, a third time as hard as I could, wriggling to escape his loosening hold, but he hissed and hauled me back, shaking me so hard my short curls tumbled into my eyes.
As abruptly he let me go, wailing like I had struck him. Landing heavily on the matting, he scrabbled away across the floor, only to hit the wall and stop, throwing his arms over his head and burying his face into his knees.
“Shin?”
He was sucking in fast gasps of air like a man who couldn’t breathe.
“Shin?” I took a slow step closer. “Are you all right?”
He didn’t look up, didn’t speak. He trembled from head to foot and seemed not to hear me at all. Not even when I knelt before him. “Shin?” I said. “It’s Hana, can you hear me? Are you in pain?”
I touched his arm, and he flinched but did not pull away. “Shin?”
“I can’t. I can’t,” he rasped, shaking his head. “No. It has to stop, it has to end. He has to end.”
“Shin, what are you talking about?”
He lifted his head, but though he looked at me, he didn’t seem to see me at all. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have… shouldn’t have…”
“You’re scaring me, Shin.” I glanced around at Tili, but she shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. “Shin?” I tried shaking him, then I slapped his arm, unsure of how else to get him to snap out of the nightmare into which he had fallen. “Shin! Are you hurt? Ought I to send for a physician? Shin!”
He gripped my shoulders. “Hana.”
“Yes, yes, it’s me, are you all right?”
“No.” He got to his feet as suddenly as he had fallen, lifting me with him as though I weighed nothing. “But I will be soon. Girl,” he snapped at Tili. “Go fetch your horses. We’re leaving. Now.”
“Put me down!” I hissed. “Or I will shout for the landlord and have him call the guards on you. I am not going anywhere unless I choose to and definitely not until you explain what just—”
“Go on!” he snarled at Tili. “Or are you a traitor too?”
“Shin, this is ridiculous. Put me down now or I will shout for help.”
He grunted and dropped me on the floor, and for a stunned moment I could not move. Until his arm slid around my throat. Panic seized me then and my feet scrabbled for purchase on the smooth floor, finding nothing. He tightened his hold and I gripped his arm, trying to prise it loose, trying to croak out a plea, but his muscle bulged and I could not breathe.
“It’s time this was over,” he said. “Truly over. But I’ll deal with your treason first.”
Darkness swarmed in, rising like a black tide. I lifted my head, trying to stay afloat, but the water kept rising, rising until there was no light, no thought, nothing but the darkness as I sank beneath the waves.
Chapter 17
Darius
Endymion hunched over the cracked ceramic basin and retched. A trickle of rusty bile dribbled from his lip, the last of it hanging there by a string of saliva. Pushing his hair back with trembling fingers, he spat, a deep breath shuddering out o
f his lungs.
“Darius—”
He retched again. I took the thin linen towel from my shoulder and dipped one end into the water bucket. The fabric darkened as it sucked in moisture and crinkled as I squeezed it out again. “Here,” I said, holding it so it hung within Endymion’s sight. “You’ll feel better.”
“Really?”
“Probably not, but it won’t hurt.”
He sat back, letting out a groan and taking the towel. In the doorway, Kimiko shifted her feet. “Is he just sick, or is it…?” She left the question unfinished as I shook my head and got to my feet.
“I’ll fetch you water,” I said to Endymion, the boy replying with a retch as I left the room. Kimiko followed.
“Well?” she said when we had put enough distance between us and Endymion that he ought not hear us. “What’s wrong with him?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” I said. “It feels like Void, but—”
“Void?”
I closed my eyes and wished myself already on the other side of this conversation, but there was no getting around it.
“That pain you felt when I refused to leave the castle with you.” It seemed a lifetime ago now, the memory of her fist hitting my face and waking in a haze of borabark one I would not soon forget. “We called it Void because it was like… anti-Empathy. Empathy turned in on itself. It’s hard to explain because we never really understood how it worked, only that it did.”
“Are you saying he’s attacking… himself?”
“I think so.”
“And that will work?”
“Hopeful for his sake or mine, my dear?”
Kimiko folded her arms. “That isn’t fair. I am at least trying; you are the one who is struggling to accept who you are and who you can be.”
“Always brandishing honesty like a whip.”
“You would find a way to ignore the truth if I was any more subtle.”
I gave a dramatic hiss as though she’d struck me again, and she laughed, but it did not turn her from her insistent line of questioning. “What happens if a Vice keeps disobeying? Despite the pain?”