by C. J. Anaya
Father had never gone into full detail in explaining the reasons behind it. He merely stated that Katsu had found me completely unsuitable, and I would need more training before I could take my rightful place at his side. I’d never wanted to be at his side, but the criticism stung nonetheless. I had waited for some kind of scheduled training or preparation to take place, but nothing other than the increase of abuse to my power through my father’s interrogation techniques occurred. I had been left wondering if perhaps my future husband had found me repulsive. I had hoped he would never return after that humiliating day of rejection.
Yet here he stood, and I was not ready for him. I was not ready for anything other than escape.
“You left. I assumed that would be the last we would see of you for quite some time.”
He looked surprised. “We’re betrothed. Why would you have assumed such a thing?”
“My father led me to believe you were not happy with…with me.” I felt uncomfortable having to explain myself to a man I barely knew.
I felt Katsu’s anger flash, but he did his best to reign it in. “Your father is a very accomplished liar and a skilled manipulator. I would have stayed to train you, but he felt you were not ready. He insisted it would be better for me to return when you were eighteen and your powers more fully developed.”
Now I felt angry. “My powers were fully developed many years ago, long before my fifteenth birthday. Why would he send you away? Why would he lie to you when all he has ever prepared me for is our inevitable union?”
“Why indeed.” Katsu looked as if he wanted to ask me something, but I could sense his indecision. He felt protective and concerned for my delicate sensibilities. He would have been surprised at the kind of gory experiences I’d been privy to.
“We should return you to the palace. I am sure your absence has created quite a stir.”
“Yes. No doubt the guards at my door will be punished. I would not wish any harm to come to them.”
Katsu approached me slowly. “May I accompany you home then, Princess?”
The question was rhetorical. I doubted he expected me to refuse him.
“You may.”
Katsu delicately took my arm in his and began leading me in the direction of the palace. I swallowed hard. I was not looking forward to the punishment my father would have in store for me, whether he believed my outlandish lie or not.
* * *
“Princess Mikomi, your father wishes to speak with you,” my maid, Aiko, said as she glided into my bedroom.
Anger, trepidation, and fear coursed through my body, a familiar reaction to any amount of time I was sentenced to spend with my father, Emperor Fukurokuju. When I looked up from the piece of parchment paper I was scribbling away on, however, my features revealed nothing. I was a docile puppet and duty bound to honor any summons my father made. I despised it more than I could have possibly described. It was a wonder I was able to conceal my real thoughts in regards to the prison my life had long become.
Upon arriving at the palace, the guards had been instructed to escort me back to my room and await my father’s inquiries. Katsu had been escorted by other guards after he demanded an audience with my father. The guards, though used to orders coming from the emperor, knew better than to argue with a kami. I’d been writing poetry for the better part of an hour in an attempt to calm my nerves while waiting for Aiko to bring me word.
I felt quite ill imagining the several different scenarios this audience with him would bring about. Naturally, he would wish to be made aware of the attempt on my life this morning, but if that was all he wished for he could have been given that information from Katsu and avoided my presence altogether.
He never desired to see me unless his motives were darker in nature. I hadn’t been made to torture anyone in quite some time, but war and intrigue were a part of an emperor’s everyday concern. According to my father, pulling traitorous secrets from prisoners of war, or from the poor and seditious deserters, was an unfortunate necessity if the Empire was to survive and thrive.
“Princess, did you not hear what I said?” Aiko rounded the corner of my chair and smartly took the writing utensil from my already stilled hands.
I wanted to snatch it from her and express to her exactly what was in my heart and mind without that nagging thought of duty, decorum or remembering one’s place and role in the universe. I didn’t want to behave appropriately. I didn’t care to pretend I was willing to obey when every particle of my being wished to rebel. There were so many shockingly truthful things I could have flung at her with enough force and volume to shake the ivory rafters of my room, so many grievances she had already patiently sat through and listened to because that’s what she had done since I’d been a child. Instead, I stood up achingly slowly, the only form of resistance I dared show, and moved to the mirror to check my appearance as she came behind me and adjusted the large decorative bow at my back.
I studied my reflection in the mirror and noted my hair was perfectly coiffed. I only ever wore the decorative headdress for important occasions or meetings with my father. It was heavy and cumbersome, much like the rest of my attire. My olive skin was smooth and unblemished and my brown eyes were a dark amber color, though they held very little life in them. Aiko had managed to fix the mess my late night excursion had reduced me to. I was a reflection of everything my parents wanted me to be. I looked for any signs of discontent in my expression; something that might betray the careful façade I wore day after day.
“Please stop all of this fussing, Aiko.” I covered my frustration by smoothing my silk blue kimono. “I’m sure I look presentable enough.”
Aiko tsked softly, just as she had for seventeen years and stepped away.
“I wish you would concern yourself more with your appearance, mistress,” she said in a disapproving voice.
“Why? During the few times my father allowed me to leave the palace, my face was draped in yards of black silk. Whom do I have to impress?”
“You know just as well as I do that your veil is for your own protection. There are plenty of rabble out there who would love nothing more than to take credit for the death of The Healer. I was referring to your appearance for your father’s sake. He doesn’t usually send for you for mundane tasks.”
“He doesn’t usually send for me at all.” I felt no pain with this remark. I had learned long ago that my “gift” for healing was the only reason my father held any interest in me. I may have been the child of prophecy—I tried not to feel scorn at the much hated title—but it didn’t make me any more important to him than most daughters are to their fathers, regardless of what I was destined to accomplish.
I considered the prophecy and all that Katsu and I were meant to achieve—becoming the only thing standing in the way of Amatsu, demon god and lord of the underworld. I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do less, and up until my attack this morning, I’d found it difficult to accept that such a prophecy existed. If I turned it into a harmless legend, then it had no power over me.
It seemed as if this alleged prophecy benefited my father in some specific way by linking me to Katsu, but for the life of me I couldn’t understand what it was he would have to gain since he had everything. All I did know for certain was that I was capable of healing people who had been injured or were suffering from illnesses, and I was strictly forbidden to use those powers unless directed by my father.
He claimed I needed to save my gift and only use it for healing the veil, but he rarely hesitated to abuse my powers to heal his generals, torture his enemies or extract information from his allies with promises of health and prosperity. I hated the hypocrisy. I hated this palace, but most of all I hated him.
“Mistress, you had better answer your father’s summons quickly. He has never been a patient man.” Aiko interrupted my dark musings.
“He’s not a man, Aiko. He’s a god.”
I turned my back on the docile reflection in the mirror, too sickened by it to l
ook another moment longer, and quickly walked out the darkened cedar door.
* * *
I waited for my father’s servant to fetch me in the summoning room, a highly decorative formal sitting area where people were made to feel intimidated by the painted portraits of important ancestors from my mother’s side of the family. All men, of course. The paintings were detailed, enhancing the vibrant colors of their Hakama, a pleated garment worn over their clothing, which was meant to illustrate their station and wealth. The more embellishments upon their robes, the higher their station.
I supposed it would have been intimidating to have painted portraits of my father’s ancestry peppering the walls, but the only beings he claimed for parentage were the original creators of all kami everywhere, and any image painted of them would never have done them sufficient justice. Precious few kami could claim the privilege of laying eyes upon them.
I sighed heavily. I knew I should have felt more awe and respect for the gods of this universe, but all I truly felt was disgust. They were immortal, nothing more. They may have possessed incredible powers for keeping the world in balance, but I found that many of them never used those powers in accordance with the laws that their First Parents supposedly governed them with.
Take my father, for instance. He was a protector of life and longevity, yet all I witnessed from him was repression and tyranny, killing those who would willing speak up or fight against the deplorable living conditions everyone but the royal family were subjected to.
As someone half immortal, I too had powers gifted to me but was forbidden to use them the way I saw fit. I wanted to help. I wanted to heal. I wanted control over my life and the lives of those I could protect.
My angry musings were interrupted by the arrival of my father. His presence was highly unusual. I was always greeted by his adviser and brought to wherever it was he was located.
I immediately bowed from the waist and kept my eyes on the floor out of deference and respect. My anger all the while was simmering just below the surface. I felt him lift my chin and grant me permission to stand. I kept my eyes lowered until he snapped his fingers, signaling that I was allowed to look upon him. His robes were covered in threaded gold embellishments. Never willing to understate his position, he wore nothing but the finest clothing created by the most talented seamstresses in the empire. He appeared extremely excited—highly unusual for him.
I startled when he wrapped his arms around me and embraced me for the first time in my entire life. I stiffened in surprise, uncertain and anxious. I wondered if he wished for me to return this affection with that of my own.
I nearly brought my arms about his bulky robes, but he was already pulling away, placing hands on both my shoulders, and bestowing upon me one of his rare smiles.
“You will meet him this evening, my child. Your engagement ceremony will bring joy and happiness to our people. Of this I am certain. I am proud of you, young daughter. Fulfill your duty and your destiny.”
I looked at him blankly for a few moments. My engagement ceremony? Hadn’t that happened two years ago? Betrothals and engagements were basically the same thing. Why were we repeating the process?
His uncharacteristic behavior, coupled with the unexpected announcement of another ceremony, left me feeling slow and speechless. Had he not been made aware of the assassination attempt on my life and my subsequent meeting with Katsu?
“I thought the ceremony took place when I was fifteen.”
My father’s happiness melted away as he looked at me sharply. I had spoken without permission. I bent my head quickly and lowered my eyes to the floor. “Forgive me, Father.”
He let out an unhappy grunt.
“That frivolous occasion was more of a coming out party. Katsu could look upon you and decide if he wished to go through with it. Not that he had a choice in the long run, but traditions must be upheld.”
In other words, I truly had been paraded around like an animal. Such a pity for Katsu, he didn’t have the luxury of choosing his own bride like most men did.
“The engagement ceremony will take place tonight. This will allow you to train with Katsu unchaperoned. He will teach you how to harness your powers and combine them with the Grass Cutter Sword in order to heal the veil when the time comes. If you have questions, ask them now.”
I wanted to ask him why he had sent Katsu away and refused to allow him to train me until now. Instead, I lifted my head but kept my focus on the floor. “How much time does the warrior god feel we will need for training?”
“He wishes to train you until your eighteenth birthday, six months from now. In any event you will do all he requires of you and more in order to be ready for your future together. Is that understood?”
I nodded.
I felt a little easier, knowing I still had a few months to figure another way out. I hadn’t minded my first meeting with Katsu. Honestly, I was surprised by his kind attitude and protective feelings toward me, but after speaking with Daiki, I couldn’t help but feel that I was meant to make a difference in some other way. If I could stay here and help the suffering of my people, just as Daiki had mentioned, then maybe joining forces with the rebels was the only way to bring about the overthrow of my father. It was a dangerous idea, but it was also another option, and one that I could make for myself.
“Excellent. Now, there is another matter most urgent and pressing for which I need your particular skill set.”
I wasn’t surprised that no mention of my near death with the nekomata was brought up. My father had most likely had all of his questions answered by Katsu. Nor was I surprised that my father didn’t appear worried or overly concerned about my well-being, though you’d think he would have shown some consideration since his one trump card allowing him to remain in power had almost been assassinated.
I continued to remain leery of his behavior, however. He was happy to the point of being near giddy. Clearly, he’d accomplished something important, and that knowledge worried me.
“One of my generals has been wounded in battle. He has important information needing to be relayed to me and my other officers, but he is unconscious and incapable of sharing this information. I need you to come and heal him immediately. Lives may hang in the balance.”
I was sure lives did hang in the balance but that he cared very little for whom those lives belonged to or if in fact those lives were saved. I did nothing to acknowledge my agreement. It would have done little good if I had agreed with him or not. The idea that I might refuse him would have been so foreign to him as to never have crossed his mind. I had no choice. I never did. I nodded my head with feigned acquiescence.
“You will follow me to the healing room.”
The mention of the healing room triggered a wave of anxiety. The room was little more than a secret chamber beneath the palace where various forms of torture were used to extract information. It didn’t matter to my father who the subject was or what side he was on. If there was information worth gleaning, he would use every avenue available.
He turned and walked quickly toward the back door, never once doubting my attendance directly behind him. I would play the part I had played until it was no longer necessary for me to do so, and I would play it just as convincingly as if my life depended on it…which I was sure it did.
He turned and made his way to the back of the long, rectangular room. His study was little more than a front for what lay directly behind the massive back wall laden with samurai adornments. He pulled roughly on the front of a solid gold sword firmly attached to the ivory wall, activating a mechanism within that unhinged a hidden door to our immediate right, slowly swinging it forward. The opening of the wall revealed a stone staircase descending toward a gaping maw of darkness.
As a little girl I’d had nightmare after nightmare of descending these very steps. Aiko would wake me and stay by my side for the rest of the night, never telling either one of my parents how terrified I was. She knew my father would only punish me for suc
h cowardice and my mother would show very little, if any, concern for the impact such a place might have on a child’s subconscious.
I followed my father down the stone steps, noting, as I usually did, that the palace’s ki felt different in this particular area. More remote and less watchful. It made me wonder if it had abandoned this area of itself due to the way in which my father disrespectfully abused it.
We must have traveled fifteen feet before the staircase leveled out onto a black cobblestone floor with moss covered walls. It smelled of mildew, death, and decay. Not many made it out of this hole with their lives.
After traveling another twenty feet or so, we turned left into a small room where three of my father’s servants surrounded a table with a young man lying unconscious atop its wooden surface.
I noted the blood oozing out of a gaping wound that traversed the entire breadth of his broad chest and shuddered at the pain such a wound must be causing him. I waited for my father’s permission to approach the young soldier and moved forward when he motioned his hand toward the table.
The servants quickly dispersed at my approach, pushing into the shadows and dark recesses of the room. None of them wished to have any accidental contact with me. To touch a royal princess, even by accident, would have meant immediate execution. I hardly noticed, being used to such treatment by male servants.
I tried not to look at my subjects’ faces so as not to get attached in any way. I didn’t want to know them or their identity, and I didn’t want to feel anything for them or their current, and I might add hopeless, situation.