Smoke in the Sun

by Renee Ahdieh

  Mariko shifted closer to the blade. Farther away from the prince. “If it is truly a thousand years old, it is in remarkable condition,” she murmured.

  “Bewitched blades do not rust, nor do they have any need of sharpening.”

  She took note of the inscription etched where the alabaster blade met the golden tsuba. “As swift as the wind, as silent as the forest, as fierce as the fire, as unshakable as the mountain.”

  “The Takeda motto.” Raiden frowned, and the gesture carved lines around his mouth. “This blade interests you.” His nostrils flared.

  “Of course it does,” she replied in an airy tone. “It is unique, and I am fascinated by unusual things. Are you not, my lord?”

  He did not reply.

  “May I ask what made it glow that night?” Mariko sent a tentative smile his way.

  Irritation took further hold of his features. “It glowed because it was in the presence of the Takeda heir, no matter how unworthy he might be. The lore says when the blade is wielded by a warrior possessing a pure heart, it will become a weapon unlike any other. Stronger than any other.” He waved his hand in a dismissive fashion. “Throughout history, only men of the Takeda clan have proven worthy, but I doubt any son of Takeda Shingen’s line could possess those traits in truth.” Every word he spoke oozed with disdain.

  He’s wrong. The Fūrinkazan burned for Ōkami.

  In that instant, Mariko realized why the blade had been cast to the side instead of being granted a position of honor in Raiden’s receiving chamber. The blade had responded to a thief in the forest. But it had not responded to him. Which meant that he—the great Prince Raiden, firstborn son of the heavenly sovereign—was not a warrior with a pure heart. He was not good enough.

  He doubts his worth.

  With this newfound realization, Mariko chose to employ Raiden’s own tactic against him. Instead of asking a question, she made a statement. “You detest Takeda Ranmaru—not just for what his father did—but for something else.”

  Raiden snorted. “It doesn’t matter what I think of that traitorous coward. He is to be executed soon. I am pressuring my brother to put an end to this farce and send him to meet his father, at long last.” A shadow fell across his face. “May they meet in the fire where traitors dwell.”

  Mariko’s vision swam. She gripped the edge of the stone pedestal housing the Takeda sword. A strange sensation took shape in her stomach, akin to being sick.

  I pressed him too far.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Raiden paused. “As its master’s vanquisher, this sword belongs to me now. Everything that once belonged to Takeda Ranmaru belongs to me now. My father set aside the Takeda lands for my inheritance, years ago.” He stepped away as he spoke, dismissing the now trivial item of the sword. His expression turned morose. “Though it may not matter what happens with it, if this mysterious plague continues to wreak its havoc.”

  “Plague?” Mariko’s eyes narrowed. “Is something amiss beyond the city, my lord?”

  Raiden considered her before replying. “A foul wind has settled on several provinces east of Inako. Entire villages have succumbed to the illness. Those who still cling to life have lost control of their minds, mumbling and trembling as though they are fevered.”

  Mariko’s hand barely muffled her gasp. “My lord, if you would permit me to—”

  “It should not concern you. Your family’s lands are far removed from the source of the disease.” Raiden drew himself up to his full height. “And you are under my protection while here in Inako.”

  “I would not only be concerned for the welfare of my family, my lord. If any people of Wa are suffering, it is a cause for my concern.”

  Raiden blanched. “Of course. I only meant that you need not worry. Others will worry on your behalf. Those with the skills to handle these kinds of difficult situations.”

  His pompous dismissal of both her and her abilities grated on Mariko’s nerves. “Which lands have been affected by the plague, my lord?”

  “The Yoshida and the Sugiura lands. The Yokokawa clan. The Akechi lands.”

  She paused in consideration. “They are your family’s loyal bannermen.”

  Raiden nodded.

  The wheels in Mariko’s mind continued to turn in careful circles. “Have imperial troops been deployed to help? Have the people residing on these lands been quarantined to prevent the plague from spreading? Have healers been sent to study the nature of the affliction and isolate its cause?”

  A grimace touched the edges of Raiden’s features, there and gone in the blink of an eye. “It is true there is much to be done. I am certain the emperor will send along help as soon as he has settled the most pressing matters of the imperial city.” He spoke the words with a conviction that belied his actual sentiments, for his eyes told a far different tale. They flitted from side to side, searching the rafters above for a shade of truth.

  A cold mixture of fury and fear raked across Mariko’s skin. Fury at the emperor’s dismissiveness. Fear at Prince Raiden’s unquestioning support. Their foolishness was undoubtedly costing a great many lives. She grasped the edge of the stone pedestal even harder and stared at the Fūrinkazan, willing it to grant her focus. Willing it to prevent the words collecting in her throat from pouring into the air.

  As her vision locked on the center of the alabaster sword, the faintest light seemed to spark in its golden core. Mariko stifled a gasp, then stepped back.

  It was gone, just as quickly as it had come.

  “I do not wish to discuss this matter further,” Raiden said from behind her, his voice filled with conceit. Mariko turned to face him, and he moved closer, his arms akimbo and his legs spread once again. “We have other matters to discuss. You have yet to tell me what it is you want regarding our union.”

  Mariko gazed up at him, schooling her features blank. The entire time they’d spoken with each other, Raiden’s back had been to the door of his receiving chamber, as though he alone controlled who entered and who left. Ōkami would have scorned the prince for keeping his flank open to a surprise attack. Tsuneoki would never have allowed an enemy to approach him unawares. Fear made both of them stronger. Smarter. It would make Mariko stronger and smarter, as well.

  “I want whatever it is you desire, my lord.” She bowed.

  Raiden snorted. “You’ve been raised to say the right things. But I’m not interested in what you should say. I’m interested in how you feel.”

  Mariko found herself once more at a loss.

  “Don’t mistake my curiosity for consideration,” he continued. “I do not believe I want this marriage to take place, and if you are against it, that may serve my purpose.”

  “Why do you not wish for this union to take place?”

  “Though I find you less … troubling than before, I still don’t trust you.”

  Mariko took a chance. His honesty had unseated her, and she hoped her own forthrightness would win her similar consideration. She met his stony gaze without flinching. “I don’t trust you either, Prince Raiden.”

  He stood still, his eyes narrowing, his fists dropping to his sides. His knuckles were bloodied from when he’d beaten Ōkami. The prince’s face was one many young women might find pleasing, but all Mariko saw on it were the scars he’d incurred in battle, the ones he’d gained inflicting pain on others. The lives he’d undoubtedly taken, without feeling or remorse.

  The only thing that gave her pause was the fact that Prince Raiden did not at all resemble a simpering member of the nobility. He’d bloodied his own hands. Raged with his own fists. And he wore his scars just as he wore his victories—proudly. Even if everything he represented was deplorable, Minamoto Raiden at least did not lie on silken cushions and leave the fighting to others.

  “Why don’t you trust me?” Raiden asked. His tone was cautious—as though he loathed having to ask her this question. “Your brother trusts me. Do you doubt the judgment of your own flesh and blood?”

  Mariko thought quic
kly. She turned in place and began pacing in a circle around the receiving chamber, glancing at the weapons lined along the wall like the severed heads of conquered foes. “It is not that I doubt Kenshin or any member of my family. But I came to the imperial city glad to be your wife.” She glanced over her shoulder at him and chewed at her lower lip. The motion drew Raiden’s eyes to her mouth. “I … have not been met with the same sentiment, though I have only ever been faithful to my vow. I did not realize you were against our union, especially since you’d already agreed to it.”

  “Would you be against our union if you learned that I’d resided among young women for the past few weeks, as the only man?”

  “I would not doubt your word, my lord.” Though a flash of fury passed over her vision, Mariko inclined her head and smiled.

  Raiden nodded slowly. “You have spirit. More spirit than I would have thought at first glance.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But you have not answered my first question. Do you wish to marry me? If not, I will release you without question. If you’re worried about what this will do to your reputation, I will take matters into my own hands.” His grin was one of supreme arrogance. “Fear of my wrath is an extremely good reason for your detractors to keep silent.”

  Such bluster.

  Mariko’s responding laughter was shaky. Not knowing how else to reply, she let the nervousness take hold, as though she’d been moved by his declaration, instead of mildly sickened. She knew the next words she spoke would decide her fate.

  If she told Prince Raiden she no longer wished to marry him, he would free her.

  How strange to hear this, when—not so long ago—it had been her greatest hope. Mariko had dreamed of this exact scenario the night before she left her home for the imperial city. Of a world in which she was allowed to remain where she pleased, unburdened by the responsibility of marriage, free to invent to her heart’s content.

  It had been the vain wish of a silly young woman, absent purpose.

  If Raiden freed her, Mariko would be sent back to her family. Even with his reassurances, her parents would view his rejection as a stain on the Hattori name. Fortunately, that worry no longer held the same sway over Mariko as it had before. Far more pressing matters had taken its place.

  If she left her post in the imperial city, Mariko would be unable to give the Black Clan any more aid from within the castle walls. And she would never be able to save Ōkami, especially if Raiden’s earlier threat came to pass.

  But if Mariko married Prince Raiden …

  She would have nothing she wanted. And everything she needed. A trusted position in the imperial court. In the imperial family itself. She’d earn a position next to the seat of power, and from it help to bring about the downfall of the cursed Minamoto clan and its inept young emperor.

  Perhaps this was why Mariko had come to Inako. Not merely to spare the life of the boy she loved. But to be something more, just as she’d asked of Ōkami. To do something more.

  Ōkami did not want to lead. He’d indicated as much to her on several occasions.

  And Mariko did not yet know if she could. If this world would allow it.

  All she did know was that she could not permit Roku to retain his power. If Prince Raiden’s revelations were true, the new emperor had already shirked his responsibilities to his most loyal bannermen, with disastrous results. A plague spreading across his land should not be second to planning his brother’s wedding or torturing a prisoner.

  It would have been different if Mariko thought Roku could become a better ruler than his father. One who cared for the plight of others. But she’d already caught sight of the fearful glances exchanged by the servants attending the mercurial new emperor. Stopped to offer comfort to Isa after finding the maidservant weeping in a corner when the girl thought no one was watching.

  As Mariko strolled slowly from weapon to weapon, she connected the reason for the young woman’s sadness. Isa’s family served the Sugiura clan. Perhaps they’d succumbed to the plague already.

  The emperor was not even caring for those loyal to him. His brother, Raiden, was no better. A dog digging for bones in a graveyard.

  She could weather this storm if she had to. All her life, Mariko had been trained to be exactly this kind of woman and nothing more. Her eyes fell on the Takeda sword nearby. It seemed to warm at her gaze, a spark catching in its center, the white skin of its shirasaya glinting like a mirror.

  A trick of the light. Nothing more.

  It was impossible that the sword would respond to her. She’d come to Inako to lie, steal, cheat, and kill. A bewitched blade would know her for what she was the moment it came in contact with her.

  Impossible.

  Despite this truth, Mariko wanted to be worthy of the Fūrinkazan. A warrior with a pure heart, no matter her devious intentions.

  Raiden studied her, his features tight. Waiting.

  If Mariko agreed to this marriage, she would have to be this boy’s wife. She would have to laugh with him. Share a bed with him. Share his secrets.

  Be water.

  In silence, she closed the distance between her and Prince Raiden. Reached for his hand, her grasp tentative. At the touch of his skin to hers, every part of her body screamed in silent horror. Ached for rebellion.

  We do what we must.

  Mariko laced her fingers through his. She swallowed slowly and stepped into his space. The space of a warrior, who stiffened immediately at her intrusion. Seeking to disarm him further, Mariko shifted her fingers to his jaw in a tentative touch. His brow furrowed. He glared down at her, the center of his eyes still unsure. Mariko wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. The trick worked again. Raiden’s eyes flashed toward her mouth, his grip on her hand tightening.

  Then he made a decision, as he often did, without any warning.

  When Raiden kissed her, Mariko did not expect it, even though she’d baited him for precisely this purpose. He was not gentle or tender. Not at all like the first boy she’d ever kissed, that afternoon in the hayloft. And he was nothing like Ōkami.

  Ōkami only took what was offered freely and without reservations.

  Raiden did not care to ask. Did not think to ask.

  His lips were possessive. The feeling of his mouth moving against hers crawled up Mariko’s spine in a way that made her almost flinch.

  But Raiden’s kiss was a reflection of him. Of the kind of boy he was, and the kind of man he would be. Her first lover was shy. Ōkami studied. Purposeful. A boy who enjoyed playing a game for the sole purpose of getting caught.

  Raiden did not play games with anyone. He pressed a large hand on the small of her back and drew her against him to deepen the kiss. Mariko returned his affection automatically. Turned off any hint of emotion, her eyes wide. When the prince released her, she took in a shaky breath. Then Mariko lowered her head. Peered up at the prince through a fringe of dark lashes.

  If she was to agree to this union, she intended to walk away with the things she wanted.

  Protect.

  “It would be my honor to marry you, my lord Raiden.” Mariko inhaled with care. “But I have two requests.”

  A Life Unchosen

  Yumi rode through the rapidly fading dusk, her roughspun cloak flying about her like the wings of a bat. The piece of folded washi paper pressed to her chest felt as though it were burning a hole straight to her heart.

  Tsuneoki had not answered her pleas to retrieve her from the okiya. To bring his sister into the fold and make her a member of the Black Clan. He’d allowed Hattori Mariko to join their ranks.

  Why not Yumi?

  She was far more practiced with a blade than the daughter of Hattori Kano. The blood of Asano Naganori ran through Yumi’s veins, the desire for revenge glowing steadily in her soul.

  Still her brother denied her the satisfaction.

  Anger rippled down Yumi’s throat. She hunched over her chestnut horse and urged the stallion faster. There wasn’t much time. T
here was never enough time.

  Tsuneoki had gladly taken all the information Yumi passed his way. Her brother had cheerfully replied to anything he considered worthy of further investigation. Praised her on gathering news concerning the nobles and their countless machinations.

  Yumi had been passing along this information to her brother for the better part of the last two years. Her unique position as a maiko of repute in the grandest teahouse in Hanami afforded her a vantage point from which to see the inner workings of the imperial court in a way others could only dream.

  But it was long past time for Yumi to select a benefactor. She’d been an apprentice geiko for far too long. A maiko rarely waited in the wings for two years, especially one of her caliber. There had been countless requests for her companionship. If she were to select from any of these extremely wealthy, high-placed noblemen, Yumi would not want for anything in life. She would no longer have to work in the teahouse, entertaining inane drunks with no security to offer beyond vague promises of wealth. She wouldn’t have to practice the shamisen until her fingers bled and dance each night before a roomful of idle men, all for the chance to be crowned the greatest geiko in the city.

  But if she made her choice and selected a benefactor, Yumi would never be anything more than a mistress. Though her position as a maiko gave her the chance to learn and experience much of a life denied to most women, this was not a life she would have chosen for herself.

  She had her brother to thank for this, as well.

  Hot tears streamed down her face, carried away by the wind as she urged her stallion even faster. They entered Jukai forest, and branches tore at her cloak. A leaf scraped across her cheek.

  It did not matter.

  None of it mattered.

  Her brother was too concerned for Yumi’s safety. Concerned to the point of forbidding her from experiencing anything of worth. But Tsuneoki did not know how often Yumi defied his wishes. He did not know how often his younger sister prowled the rooftops of the imperial city. How skilled she’d become at throwing daggers.