by Devin Madson
Please gods make them stop.
My prayers went unheeded. Kin’s men cheered their emperor on, chanting and stomping their feet as the bloodlust flowed. They jeered too as Shin dodged and ducked. He was always moving, dancing in and out, curved sword slicing at air. Kin was patient, stepping, blocking, backing away, his own blade hovering still.
The cries for blood grew deafening. His soldiers had failed to protect him, and now they chanted for death.
Kin’s blade sliced an arc as Shin stepped in. The Pike ducked, but the tip only missed him by a breath. I gasped, and as Shin leapt back, his gaze flicked my way. It was just for a moment, but there was such anger in those eyes that I flinched.
“Please stop!” I shouted though he had already withdrawn his attention. “They marked Katashi, Shin!”
A terrible rasping sound shivered through the night as sword ground upon sword, and with his opponent’s blade caught, Kin gripped the front of Shin’s tunic. I saw his lips move, saw the words begin to spill forth, but they were lost to the heavens as Kin dropped his blade and thrust a dagger into the stunned Pike’s stomach.
“No!”
Wen caught me around the waist. “Be quiet!” he hissed. “It is done.”
Blood leaked from Shin’s mouth, staining his lips. Like two lovers, emperor and rebel looked into each other’s eyes, but there was no understanding, no acceptance. Shin spat, spraying a mouthful of blood over Kin’s face. “You will always be a Usurper,” he snarled.
Kin ripped his dagger out. Blood gushed onto the grass, and Shin staggered a step before collapsing to his knees amid cheers. In his last lifeless moment, I met that lidless gaze and read only bitterness. He had carried his hatred to the end.
He hit the grass face first and still the soldiers cheered. Their respect for their leader had been renewed, but all I could do was stare at the lifeless form of Shin and hate that it had come to this. I had already lost so much.
“Sound the retreat.”
Wen dragged his gaze from Shin’s body. “What?”
“You know how to do it,” I said. “Sound the Pike retreat. Go and tell General Manshin that Katashi isn’t coming.”
“But—”
“If you do nothing else for me, you will do this. Listen to me, Wen. You saw what they did to Katashi, what he has become. I do not expect you to change your allegiance as I must, but at least grant Kin the chance to survive until tomorrow in case he is the only emperor Kisia has left.”
I whispered the last words, a lump in my throat. Nearby, Kin was already shouting orders, the crowd of soldiers thinning fast.
“Please, Wen,” I added when he didn’t answer. “Do not let any more men die for nothing. Call the retreat. Let Katashi’s soldiers regroup behind their leader if they still wish to follow him, but please, give Kisia a chance. Give me a chance.”
He let out a long breath and nodded. “If that is your final order, I will go, my lady,” he said at last, holding out his hand for his sword.
I handed it back with a bow. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” he said. “I did see what happened and I… cannot unsee it. I will do what ought to be done, though if we both continue to follow that path, the next time we meet, we’ll both be dead.”
A rueful smile turned my lips. “You may well be right,” I said. “But at least we have a beacon to guide us through the murk.” His own rueful smile joined mine, but there was no more time for reminiscence or thanks. “Be safe, Wen. Kisia needs more good men like you.”
He pursed his lips and nodded, a little smile but no more words. Taking his horse’s reins, he mounted, the remainders of Kin’s men throwing him dark looks. But their emperor gave no order, and they made no move to stop him disappearing into the chaos, my last sight of him a glimpse of the satchel he always carried at his side. It contained all the tools of the healer’s craft, and he would need every one of them tonight.
With Wen gone, I stood alone in an unfriendly camp, the eyes of every soldier flicking my way. Kin did not look at me. Showing no sign that I existed, he gave orders and cleaned his sword, and when a guard brought him a damp cloth, he cleaned the blood off his face, erasing Shin’s last existence from his skin.
Endymion had not moved since I arrived, and when our eyes met, I turned away, hating the pity in his gaze. “Endymion,” I said, a quiver in my voice. “Take Lady Kimiko somewhere safe. She should be looked after, not left to lie upon the grass.”
He did not argue, did not speak at all, just bent to gather Kimiko in his arms. Bones jutted from his skeletal wrists as he slid one thin arm beneath her legs, the other disappearing into her curls.
Endymion departed, but although I stood alone, Kin still did not look my way. “Your Majesty,” I said, gathering my courage and starting toward him. “I—”
“While we fought, you said…” Kin interrupted, halting me in my tracks. “You said Katashi had been marked, do you mean—?”
“He is a Vice, yes. Darius. You must get out of here. I will explain later—cannot now—” I let out a shuddering breath and covered my eyes, and from the darkness, Katashi smiled. We had been going to retake our empire together. “I have sent Wen to call a retreat, but by morning, they could be back. And with Katashi and Darius and Malice. You know what the Vices are capable of. You have to leave here tonight.”
“And do you come with us?”
What were my choices? I could not go back. The future I’d had with Katashi no longer existed, and any hope of a future for the empire hung upon this man.
When I didn’t answer, he closed the remaining space between us. “If all is as you say, then Kisia needs you, Hana.”
I was sure he said it to force my hand, and yet there was truth in every word. If Darius was as set on seeing Kisia burn as Katashi was on burning it, then it would take everything Kin had and more to stop them. Including me.
“I… owe you an answer, Your Majesty,” I said and knelt at his feet just as I had knelt at Katashi’s in another life. I was glad of the protocol of bowing my face to the ground for the moment it granted me to compose myself, though inside I was screaming. “I, Lady Hana Otako, accept your honourable and gracious proposal.”
I rose to my feet to find his intent gaze on me. “Hana,” he said. “For both myself and my empire, I thank you.”
His words thickened in his mouth and he stepped closer. A bloody gash glared through a rip in his sleeve, and his hair tumbled loose from his topknot, but whatever their similarities, he was not my Katashi. Never could be.
Just like back at the teahouse in Orotana, he pressed his lips to mine, and it was all I could do to stop tears spilling down my cheeks, all I could do not to draw back. I let the kiss linger, hoping his closeness and his warmth might spark something in my heart. But all I could think about was the hot grip of Katashi’s hand as he told me to run, his eyes so full of a fear he could not voice, a fear of what he had become.
Our lips parted, but Kin did not move. I could taste him, smell him, feel him there, yet I could not meet his gaze. At last, he stepped back, beckoning to one of his guards. Orders were given. A horse for Lady Hana. General Jikuko was to be found. I heard it all, but it slurred as it entered my head, such mundane considerations as getting away from this camp hardly important anymore beneath the weight of my grief. And to make it all the worse, two steps away, Shin lay on the blood-soaked grass.
While Kin was busy about his orders, I knelt beside my one-time protector. Someone had rolled him over so he stared up at the night sky, and though I closed one of his eyes, I could not close them both. One eyelid had been removed before I knew him, leaving tiny scars across his brow. They were nothing to the one that travelled the length of his face, so pronounced that I had never before noticed his high cheekbones or the straight set of a fine nose. I had never asked about his past, never even asked how he had come by the scar that dominated his face. All I had done was wonder who had been able to best Shin. And now he lay silent,
never to speak again, his words lost with him.
I touched his cheek. In the distance, the Pike retreat call rang through the night. “You fool,” I said. “Why did you have to leave me too?”
“Hana. We have to go.”
Kin was behind me. I could feel him there, could see the hem of his robe in the corner of my vision.
“A moment to say goodbye, if you please,” I said. “Whatever he has done, I cannot forget that he risked everything for me.”
I glanced up to see Kin’s face set in its harsh lines, but he nodded and forced a smile, perhaps realising, perhaps not, that it was Katashi I cried for. For the life he ought to have had. For the life we almost had together. He would hate what I had just done. All I could hope was that maybe one day he would understand it. Understand I had done it for Kisia.
Chapter 24
Endymion
Kimiko did not move. She lay upon the sleeping mat like one dead, her hands neatly folded. Even the loudest sounds were powerless to rouse her.
A constant stream of footsteps and hoofbeats passed outside, the sound of scouts coming and going, of boys running messages and soldiers burying lost comrades.
I shifted my weight for the hundredth time, trying to find a comfortable way to sit in this tiny, airless tent. It wasn’t tall enough to stand in, and the floor owned barely enough space for Kimiko, but Kin was travelling back east with only a small complement of soldiers, leaving only so many tents to go around.
A group of soldiers passed with loud voices and heavy steps, rustling the tent fabric. Light reached across Kimiko’s still form. Six men immediately outside, another two dozen across the row—
I shook my head. No. Now was not the time to get caught in the numbers, or in the souls that called out to me. Concentrate, Endymion, I snapped. Don’t lose yourself yet.
I let out a long breath and touched Kimiko’s brow. She was warm, too warm. Sweat beaded along her hairline, dampening those unruly curls. They were singed and bloodied, and I brushed them back with my hand. Still she did not move.
Footsteps stopped outside. A man cleared his throat, the sound loud and deliberate. I rose, my hair catching on the underside of the tent as I shuffled, bent double, to the tent flap. Outside, I squinted into the face of one of Kin’s guards, his soul filled with disquiet.
“Yes?” I said, hoping my own did not show. “Can I help you?”
The man stared at the branding on my cheek. “His Majesty requests your presence.”
Behind him, the sun was setting, turning the sky blood red. “You may tell him that I will be there presently.”
“I am to take you to him now.”
“Do you plan to drag me there by force? I am needed here.”
The soldier stared at me, his gaze once again slipping to my branding. “Ten minutes,” he said. “His Majesty will not wait longer.”
He turned on his heel and strode away. I had hoped to have more time.
Back inside the tent, Kimiko still had not moved. I stared down at her from the entrance, letting the flap fall closed behind me. My wounded arm ached. The bandage was tight and uncomfortable, and it was her fault it had happened, but I could not hate her for it. Not while I could feel her hurt so keenly.
“Well, this had better work,” I muttered, crouching down beside her and setting my hand to her forehead. “Come on, Kimiko, wake up.”
The piece of Darius I’d carried since Koi was never hard to find. Closing my eyes, I let it swell, this living shard of him, this collection of memories and words and thoughts like whispers in the dark. Like breathing prayers over a corpse, I let it out, threading it through her flesh.
Kimiko’s eyes snapped open and she sucked fast breaths, her gaze darting around the dim space. She shrank back at sight of me. “You. Where am I?”
“Kin’s camp,” I said, giving her space as she sat up. My arm throbbed. “But you’re safe here. Hana is here.”
“Where’s Darius?”
“I don’t know.”
Kimiko pulled the blanket around herself. “What do you mean you don’t know?” she said. “You followed him all the way from Koi, you must know.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know where he was, just in which direction I had to walk to find him. I need you to tell me what happened. I can’t… I can’t help him if I don’t know.”
She eyed me warily, dark shadows beneath her eyes. “Am I a fool, Endymion?” she said, letting out a long breath. “Is he a good man?”
“I think he knows how to be,” I said.
“That isn’t the same, is it?”
“I don’t know. Empathy is complicated.”
She let out a little snort—half laugh, half sob—and said no more.
“Kimiko,” I began, listening for the returning guards, feeling the souls pass, one, four, eighteen—
“What?”
“What what?”
“You were going to ask me something, but you closed your eyes and said nothing.”
It’s not fair. It’s not justice.
I blinked a few times, trying to focus, to resist the urgings of my Empathy. “I’m running out of time,” I said. “Tell me what happened to Darius.”
“I don’t know. Katashi’s men brought him in with Malice and he was different. I expected he would be angry with me for what I did, but not like that, not so full of fury and hate and… and hurt. I tried to talk to him, but he didn’t even seem to hear me, and when Katashi ordered them both killed…” She trailed off. “I don’t know what happened after that really. He’d taken his mark off me, but I felt such pain, Endymion, such pain when they cut off his hand, like it was my hand, and I don’t know why.”
Tears ran onto Kimiko’s cheeks and she brushed them away. “That’s all I know. You’ll have to ask Hana the rest.”
“He marked Katashi. She told me.”
Kimiko closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath. “Oh gods.”
Gods. We were the gods.
“This is my fault, isn’t it?”
Four men outside. I could feel their purpose and I froze, kneeling upon the linen. “They’re coming,” I said, lowering my voice. “Whatever happens to me, remember you have nothing to fear from Kin.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
Outside, footsteps halted once again, and through the slit in the tent, I glimpsed four pairs of sandals: three reed, one wood with the edge of a family crest branded into the sole.
“His Majesty will see you now.”
Kimiko parted her lips, but I pressed a finger to my own and shook my head. “Stay here,” I whispered, making noise as I stood so they would know I was coming. “I won’t be back.”
Again, she looked as if she would speak, but I shook my head and turned away, ducking out into the dregs of the evening.
Four of Kin’s soldiers waited, each man wearing a crimson sash adorned with the Ts’ai dragon. They all stared at my cheek and looked me up and down like I was the dirt beneath their feet, though they must all have known my name. Just like the guards who had branded me in Shimai.
Justice.
“We will take you to His Majesty,” said the man who had come for me earlier, satisfaction oozing off him. “I suppose you are ready now, are you?”
I had never been good with the subtleties of tone, but this one was undoubtedly mocking. “Yes,” I said, managing a smile of which even Malice would have been proud. “I am ready. Lead the way.”
They did so, two ahead and two behind, through the busy mess of the small camp. Everywhere, men went about their business, saddling horses and loading carts with everything from tents to provisions, while overhead, crimson flags hung heavy from their poles. The noise made conversation impossible. Soldiers shouted to each other, talking, laughing, while boys scurried underfoot with armloads of crimson silk and dozens of dangling lanterns. The presence of so many people was a weight upon my mind, tugging my thoughts this way and that as my Sight connected me to every soul, but to them, I was nothing but
a passing shadow: a plain man in a plain robe, owning no name, no purpose.
Emperor Kin’s tent stood proud in the centre of the camp. The long-tailed dragon of his family covered every side, dozens of mouths open to speak, to warn me, the whole construction alluding to the man I would find inside. My escort motioned me in, and I felt like a ghost, slinking into the presence of an emperor.
Kin was writing, kneeling at a long, low desk, and but for the paper, it might have been a kiri wood zither upon which he plucked the strings of the empire. Dressed in armour, he wore a crimson surcoat almost as an afterthought, an unnecessary reminder that this stern man held the reins of history.
Light flickered across his parchment, and he looked up as the tent flap fell closed behind me, shutting out the camp. We were alone, the lantern-lit space thick with the smell of fresh parchment and melted wax.
“You’ve kept me waiting,” Kin said, a little crease between his brows. It was a sign of anxiety, but I didn’t need to see it to know how he felt.
When I said nothing, he favoured me with a perfunctory smile. “You have been sitting with Lady Kimiko, I understand. Might I enquire how she is?”
“She will live,” I said. “But she needs rest.”
“I will ensure she is well looked after.”
Emperor Kin let the parchment scroll roll up and, pushing it aside, set his elbows on the desk. “Your sister—your half-sister—has done me the honour of accepting my offer of marriage. As you are not recognised as the head of her family and I am at war with Katashi Otako, I have dispensed with the usual custom of contracting.”
“An emperor may do as he wishes,” I said, still standing in the middle of the matting floor, the top of the tent some way above my head. “Although nevertheless, you have my blessing.”
“Fortunate for me that I am an emperor,” he said, ignoring this. “Hana would not have taken well to being sold as a piece of property.” He stood and came to stand before me. We were of a height, Kin perhaps a little taller and certainly stronger, his shoulders owning the true set of a soldier. He was older too, the lines between his brows permanently etched.