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 quickly. 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.