“Very well.” Roku finally nodded, his eyes flashing. “Report to me if there are any new developments.”
Raiden bowed again. Then watched as his younger brother strolled from the room, his soiled finery slithering behind him.
Like the tail of a snake.
“Tighten the bonds on his feet,” Raiden ordered the soldier who appeared to enjoy the sight of such savagery.
“Yes, my lord.” The soldier stood, jerking the chains tauter.
Raiden knelt beside the broken boy. Leaned forward, until the scent of his singed flesh cloyed in Raiden’s throat. He crouched closer. The tang of the boy’s metal shackles mixed with the pool of blood and vomit around him, nearly causing Raiden to retch as well.
“You think you can lie to your emperor?” he began, though he felt sickened by the sight. By his participation in it. “You will not lie to me, you filth.” Raiden grabbed the back of the boy’s hair, and his hand turned slick with sweat and blood. “I’ll tell you what happens to fools who betray their heavenly sovereign. Who think to stop the beating heart of our empire.” He edged in closer, dropping his voice to a whisper, filling his features with menace. As he moved, he clenched the small metal object tightly in his hand.
“Lunge for me,” he breathed beside the prisoner’s ear.
“Answer me, you traitor!” Raiden yanked again on the boy’s hair.
The boy’s eyes widened, until Raiden could see the veins of blood etching through them. Raiden nodded at the same time he loosened his hold. He let his menace rise into the air, as though he meant it. As though it were his truth.
The boy’s attempt to lunge for him was feeble. But it was enough.
With a shout, all the soldiers descended on them in a rush.
Raiden let the tiny blade sink between the boy’s ribs just beside his heart, then withdrew the knife back into his sleeve. The wound would not kill the boy immediately. But it would end his life sooner.
It was the best Raiden could do. If his brother discovered he had aided this boy by granting him a measure of mercy, Raiden did not know what Roku might do. The boy was strapped down once more. As Raiden stood again, angry shouts and the sounds of fists against broken flesh coiled into the air.
The boy stared up at him, bloody tears falling from his eyes.
Raiden could not breathe.
Roku is not fit to rule. His mother’s words circled through his mind, like a tortured song.
A Dark Garden
Mariko waited in the bridal bedchamber. She knelt in the corner of the vast space, shrouded in near darkness, until the sounds of pounding feet across wooden floors had died down to a trickle. Her eyes squeezed closed as she held fast to the one thought that kept her tethered to her body:
She’d not heard that the son of Takeda Shingen had been executed.
Ōkami could be safe.
And if he was not?
She would not allow herself to consider anything beyond that. If terrible things were destined to come to pass, it did her no good to worry about it twice. She would worry about it when it came time to worry. There were some who would find this behavior unbecoming of a woman, this ability to detach. But Mariko held it as a strength. Through all the trials that had occurred in the last few weeks, her strengths had guided her. The things she’d considered struggles had offered her solutions. She would not turn her back on what defined her, even if others perceived it as a weakness.
The sliding doors flew open. Darkening the threshold stood the imposing form of Minamoto Raiden, Prince of Wa.
Her new husband.
Dread twisted through her throat at the thought of what was to come. She forced it down in the next breath. Mariko had made this choice. She had decided to wed a boy who represented everything she loathed: her past, the person she had been raised to be, the future dictated by her parents.
She had made this choice, and it was hers alone.
Bracing her hand on the low table nearby, Mariko stood in a soft rustle of silk. She cleared her voice, held her head high. And made her way toward Raiden. As she drew closer, she caught the scent of blood and seared flesh. The unmistakable odor of the castle’s cruel underbelly.
Her heart leapt from her chest. She froze mid-step.
Raiden had just come from killing Ōkami.
Mariko saw what would happen next, clear in her mind’s eye. She would lunge for him. She would aim for his eyes and throat. She would do as she had done in the forest that first night and drive a hairpin through his eye if need be.
She would fail.
Her ears rang with silent fury. But she kept still. Cold. Detached. Her last remaining strength.
“My brother …” Raiden began, his voice hoarse.
Mariko inhaled carefully through her nose. In her desire to learn Ōkami’s fate, she’d nearly forgotten that Minamoto Roku’s life had been threatened today. A loyal subject would think of nothing else. “The emperor is well?” Her words sounded like they were carved from ice.
I am not loyal. I am a traitor.
Raiden did not answer immediately. “He is … safe.”
It did not escape Mariko’s notice that he chose a different way to answer. Used different words to convey a similar sentiment.
“May I offer you something to drink, my lord?” Mariko said, trying to force her body to keep still and not betray her flurry of thoughts. “Something to lighten the burden of the day’s events?”
“No.” Raiden stepped from the shadows into the weak light filtering from the oil lantern hanging above. His features had aged a decade in the matter of a single evening. Her new husband did not pause as he doffed his chest armor. Mariko did not offer to help him. The mere idea of doing something so intimate slithered over her skin like an eel. She thought to call for a servant.
“Takeda Ranmaru escaped during our wedding.” Though he watched her sidelong, Raiden spoke as if it were an afterthought. Then proceeded to sigh while struggling with the gauntlet on his left arm.
After a long pause in which her heart lurched into her throat, Mariko moved to help him, some perverse sense of gratitude driving her to take action. She reached for the ties of his gauntlet, and her fingers brushed across his hand. Embarrassment flooded her cheeks. When Mariko met Raiden’s gaze, she was surprised to find his expression had softened.
As though he appreciated her halfhearted attempt to offer comfort.
It felt odd, to be standing beside this boy she barely knew, playing the role of his dutiful wife. Mariko swallowed, quickly bringing to mind the reaction she should have to the news that her captor was once again free.
Raiden continued studying her. “You are unconcerned by the news?”
“My only concern is for your welfare, my lord.”
“You lie well, wife.”
Her fingers fumbled on the lacing at his shoulder. Since he knew her to be speaking in falsehoods, it was only appropriate for her to accept a measure of blame. “Of course I am concerned for my own well-being, too. It alarms me to know he managed to break free. But am I wrong to assume you would not let something happen to me, now that we have been joined in marriage?”
Raiden did not reply. He maintained his cool appraisal of her features, as though he were trying to focus on the sediments swirling in a muddy ravine.
One side of Mariko’s lips curled upward. “I know you do not trust me, my lord. But this is the life we have chosen for ourselves, inasmuch as we were given the right to choose. I do not wish to begin it amid strife. If you believe I helped Lord Ranmaru escape today—though I stood calmly beneath the same pavilion as you, at risk to my own life—then I am already dead in your eyes.” She dipped a cloth in a bowl of clean water and brought it to him. No matter how relieved she was to learn that Ōkami was safe, she did not trust her features to remain steady while touching Raiden’s face.
He took the cloth and wiped his brow. Then he turned his back to clean his hands. Without a word, Raiden removed the rest of his armor. He stopped short when he saw the pallet as it had been laid out. For their wedding night. After an uncomfortable pause, he looked at her, his features drawn, as though he knew he were on the cusp of making a mistake.
“I’m tired,” he said simply.
“Yes.” Mariko nodded, relief unfurling through her body. “As am I.”