At first glance, something about it looked amiss. But when Mariko tilted her head, she realized what they’d done. The two characters meaning “loyalty” had been inked into Ōkami’s neck, but they’d been placed backward. A mark of mockery and shame. One undoubtedly meant to burn the memory of Takeda Shingen’s treachery into his son’s flesh.
As though it had not been there already.
Mariko’s first desire was to react with rage. She wanted to knock the emperor’s hand off her shoulder and sear the smile off his face.
It was a child’s desire. An exercise in futility.
Roku was a cruel boy playing a cruel game. It was clear the empire’s newest sovereign was a shrewd young man, but it was also evident that his cruelty rivaled his intelligence. The Emperor of Wa enjoyed toying with people to see how they would react. And Mariko refused to be any man’s toy.
It was time to show she had a spine. There was a possibility doing so would prove foolish; it was a gamble to allow anyone to see past her armor. But Mariko had assembled her own suspicions in the short time she’d stood calmly beside Roku. As he’d searched for what lay buried behind her heart, Mariko had done the same with him.
If Roku still watched over his prisoner’s cell long after his punishment had been doled out—if the emperor had chosen to keep Ōkami alive past the point when wisdom would have dictated otherwise—Mariko wagered it was not merely for the sport of it.
Something about Ōkami had wriggled beneath Roku’s smiles. The Emperor of Wa was not done causing the son of Takeda Shingen pain. Which meant he relished lording his power over others.
Mariko began with a low bow. She let the blood collect in her head so that when she stood once more, her face appeared flushed in what she hoped was a becoming fashion. “I beg your forgiveness, my sovereign. I do not mean to be impertinent, but I am still uncertain as to why I have been brought here.” Her nails continued digging into her palms. “It’s true this boy took me prisoner. He and his men forced me to work for them until my hands bled. But I am not gladdened to be reminded of this, nor am I the kind of woman who would enjoy seeing cruelty befall any living creature.” Mariko’s voice dropped to a hush. “Have I been brought here as a test of loyalty?” she asked outright, not caring that indignation seeped into her tone.
Roku peered at her, his gaze taking in her every move. “And if you were?”
She nodded once, biding her time. “I would understand why, my sovereign. But it would still cause me pain to hear it.”
“Why is that?”
“Because my loyalty—the loyalty of the Hattori clan—was never once put to question until I was stolen from my family against my will.” Mariko focused her attention on the floor, feigning humility as her speech turned tremulous. “Again I beg pardon for my frankness, but I have had a trying time recently.” She swallowed hard, as though she were warding away tears, her breath wobbling past her lips. “Is it wrong for me to believe I have suffered enough, my sovereign?”
Roku linked his hands behind him. “Then you do not wish Takeda Ranmaru to perish for his crimes?”
It was a delicate balance—the two sides of this game—for it was evident the emperor did not see the truth as she did. As Kenshin had warned, this was a test. If Mariko were simply to say she wished Ōkami dead, the emperor would continue toying with them. An easy answer would not lead to an easy outcome, not with a boy like Minamoto Roku.
Be water.
Warmth pooled in one of Mariko’s palms. Her nails had drawn blood. She let the pain radiate to her eyes and imbued grief into her expression. “Please do not think me ungrateful, my sovereign, but I would never wish to bring about a man’s death, no matter how deserved it might be.” A single tear welled in her left eye as she lied without so much as a care to the Emperor of Wa. Her heavenly sovereign.
It was an artful attempt at persuasion, especially when contrasted with her pitiable efforts earlier. Alas, Mariko’s attempt to convey sorrow did not appear to move Roku in the slightest. He said nothing as his eyes constricted, suspicion tugging at his lips.
Like the pounding of an approaching stampede, Mariko’s heartbeat rose in her ears.
Even with my best efforts, I’ve failed to convince him. Of anything.
Just as she thought her cause utterly lost, a figure shifted nearby. Mariko’s betrothed moved toward her from his place beside Ōkami’s cell, his torch still wavering in his grasp. “It is not the sight of suffering or death that should thrill you. It is the sight of our sovereign’s justice.” Prince Raiden’s thick eyebrows gathered. His eyes raked over her, not in appreciation but in consideration. As he caught sight of her tears, the tension in his arms seemed to abate. “I imagine the idea of torture must be disturbing to you, nonetheless, as a woman.” Though Raiden’s manner oozed of superiority, his expression looked tinged with something … strange. Something unexpectedly earnest. Something Mariko had yet to encounter within these walls.
Compassion? From this brutish boy?
The very idea made Mariko feel as though insects were scuttling across her skin.
When Raiden drew even closer, his body curved protectively around her, as though he were a cocoon and she a wingless creature caught in a trance. Mariko stepped away out of habit, twisting to meet his gaze. When Raiden realized what he had done—that he’d instinctively moved to protect her—furrows formed on either side of his mouth.
In that moment, Mariko knew it was more important than ever for her to begin channeling every skill of Asano Yumi she could espouse. Even then it would likely never be enough. A certain amount of confidence was needed to navigate the waters of artful seduction. Mariko was confident she did not possess it.
These worries fraying at her resolve, Mariko forced herself to keep her thoughts at bay. Gazing up at the stern and unforgiving countenance of Raiden, she brought to mind a different face. One of a boy in black with scarred lips and a sly smile. A boy who understood pain in a way these fools could not even begin to fathom. The same boy who undoubtedly watched her from his cell, in calculating silence.
“Please, my lord,” Mariko said to Prince Raiden, her words measured and clear. “I wish never to see the son of Takeda Shingen ever again. He stole me away from my family. Away from my future. Away from … you,” she breathed without a sound. A fat tear trickled down her cheek. Mariko lowered her lashes, her body tingling with awareness.
It’s too much. It won’t work.
No matter how hard I try, I will never be Yumi.
The doubts crept into her throat. The blood began to well in her palm, threatening to catch notice, even in the darkness.
She remained still, her breath bated.
To her shock, a large hand took hold of Mariko’s elbow. Though it was a warrior’s roughened palm, its touch felt awkwardly gentle, as though it were unaccustomed to offering comfort. “I will see to it that you are returned to your chambers at once.” Raiden spoke gruffly.
When Mariko opened her eyes once more, she caught sight of the emperor in silent conversation with his elder brother. If Roku was surprised or displeased at this turn of events, he did not show it. The two sons of Minamoto Masaru held each other’s gazes for a moment before the emperor nodded once in dismissal.
Her betrothed bowed in deference to his younger brother. The next instant, Raiden directed Mariko’s elbow forward, away from the blood and the ruin.
Every part of her wanted to turn back, one last time. To offer Ōkami a measure of solace. At least the same strength and solidarity he’d given her. The son of the last shōgun remained quiet throughout these exchanges, but Mariko felt the weight of his gaze. Heard the strain of his thoughts. And she wished more than anything that she could share in them.
But Mariko did not so much as look over a shoulder. She knew better than to let either the emperor or his elder brother suspect her sentiments for even an instant. Instead Mariko permitted Raiden to lead her back toward the stairs. The recent ordeal had caused her shoulders to tremble, but she did not prevent them from shivering as she would have normally done, for she’d learned much in the last exchange she witnessed between the two brothers.
Signs of her fragility moved Prince Raiden, even when nothing else did.