They spoke just softly enough to maintain a semblance of decorum.
Just loudly enough to be heard.
They continued their prattle until its discordant melody became a drone. Mariko forced their words to blur together. She desperately wished to leave them behind and wander through the gardens on her own, so that she might at least have a moment of peace to herself. Ever since the announcement of her marriage celebration to Prince Raiden—which would take place in only two short days—she’d been beleaguered by questions and exclamations.
An elder lady of the court had been the first to excuse the impropriety of holding a marriage not long after the death of their last sovereign. “It is true it might be too soon, but the festivities will be a way to move our city past mourning.”
The other ladies of court had replied with solemn nods, as though this were a fact of true import. Mariko almost snorted at this. She had yet to witness mourning of any kind since arriving in Inako. As she suspected from the onset, the former emperor was far from revered among the nobility. They may have feared him, but they had not worshipped him as they were meant to do.
The idea of it. Worshipping a man as a god.
What would it look like to truly worship anything?
As Mariko glanced about for a way to excuse herself from the gathering, her eye caught on a familiar face, staring off into the distance beside an arrangement of spiraling gardenias.
Hirata Suke. The young girl who had been pelted by eggs the day after Mariko’s arrival. It had been a week since the events of that afternoon, but Mariko had not seen Suke since then, though she’d searched for her. As Mariko made her inquiries, she’d recalled her father speaking of the Hirata clan in passing, and it had not been in a favorable tone.
Hirata Suke’s father had often questioned the actions of Minamoto Masaru. The Hirata clan had been one of the last to turn away its loyalties from the former shōgun, Takeda Shingen.
Unsurprisingly, these facts motivated Mariko all the more to seek out Suke.
Slowly—so as not to draw attention—Mariko made her way to the girl’s side. Suke lowered her head and looked away, as though she wished for Mariko to pass her by. Leave her be.
“We have not yet had a chance to meet formally,” Mariko began with a smile.
Suke returned the smile, albeit awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to be seen in your company, Lady Maniko. Congratulations on your forthcoming union. I wish an auspicious occasion for you and a bright future for your children.”
Perfectly delivered. Yet Suke’s voice sounded hollow. That hint of dejection pushed Mariko to delve deeper.
Letting a cheeky light enter her gaze, Mariko smiled. “Do you wish an auspicious occasion for Prince Raiden as well?” It was a dangerous question, to be sure. But Mariko did not have the luxury of being indirect. If Suke reacted badly, Mariko could simply make a jest of it all and walk away.
Suke lifted her eyes with a touch of surprise. She said nothing in response. Her lips gathered in the suggestion of a pout. As though she were forcing them to keep still.
A twinge cut through Mariko. Though she’d given Suke an opportunity to reassure Mariko of her loyalties either way, the girl had instead chosen to say nothing at all. Her question had surprised Suke, but then it was clear—by the shadows under her eyes—that lies did not become her.
Unwilling to admit defeat, Mariko took a step closer. Dropped the amusement from her tone. “It was unfair of me to put you in an uncomfortable situation with my question.”
Though her eyes widened at the edges, Suke remained silent.
“I wanted to”—Mariko paused—“apologize for what I did the other day, in the dowager empress’s receiving room. For … participating in that spectacle.”
Mistrust clouded Suke’s expression. “There is no need for you to apologize, my lady. I was in the wrong. It is I who should humbly beg your forgiveness.”
Mariko took a tentative step closer. Almost too close. It felt as though they were grazing the surface of the truth. “There is no need to apologize to me either. I’ve been in the wrong since I arrived here, especially when compared to others.”
“We must distance ourselves from comparison.” Suke dipped her head in a bow. “That is the only way to be truly free.”
“Those are wise words.”
Suke tucked a tendril of loose hair behind an ear. “They’ve given me a great deal of strength these last few days. In a world built on comparison, it has been very freeing to see all those around me in this new light.”
“I could not agree with you more,” Mariko said, meeting her gaze straight on.
Suke finally smiled, and the gesture caused the edges of her eyes to crinkle in a becoming fashion. The small scar on her cheek from the eggshells had nearly healed. Mariko indicated for Suke to walk with her, and the two girls commenced with their stroll, though Suke maintained a wary distance.
As they stopped to admire a cloud of colorful butterflies, three girls walking together in the opposite direction bowed to Mariko, then sniffed at Suke with disdain. Mariko recognized one of them from that day in the Lotus Pavilion; this girl had been troubled to see misfortune fall upon Suke. She’d averted her gaze and her cheeks had grown pink with discomfort.
Despite their dismissal, Suke bowed at them, a graceful smile on her face. After they passed, she murmured, “We were childhood friends. I used to roam these halls with those girls at my side. And now?” She exhaled slowly. “I am dung beneath their sandals.”
Mariko kept silent in consideration. “I admire you for having the strength to continue treating them with respect after their betrayal.” She glanced at Suke sidelong. “I wish you could teach me how not to care. How to stay resilient in the face of all this … foolery.”
“It is not my own resilience, my lady,” Suke said. “I’ve had a great deal of guidance these last few days from someone who should not have reached a hand out to me. Especially after all those times I participated in shunning her from court.”
Mariko stopped walking to meet Suke’s gaze. “Is there a lady of court I have not met?”
Suke nodded, a hint of humor in her reply. “Your future husband’s mother.”
Mariko kept her features steady, though a curious drumming caught in her chest. Following her conversation with Raiden, Mariko had wondered when she might have a chance to encounter the late emperor’s consort. As could be expected, the enchantress had been absent from any court event attended by the dowager empress. Raiden had assured her that his mother had little interest in court.
Mariko grinned brightly. “I have not had a chance to meet her. But I would welcome the opportunity.”
“I’d be honored to take you to her,” Suke replied with a bow. “Perhaps later this evening?”
“That would be wonderful. Thank you for the introduction. I’m not sure when—or if—any of the other ladies of the court would offer Prince Raiden’s mother or myself the same courtesy.” Mariko’s smile widened. “So what should we do until then?”
Surprise flashed across Suke’s features. “We?” She blinked.
Mariko leaned closer. “Have you ever played Go?”
Prince Raiden’s mother was not at all what Mariko had expected her to be. She’d expected a woman of great beauty, bedecked in sumptuous silk. A woman who did not shy away from flaunting the proof of her good fortune. Instead she found an enchantress dressed in simple dove-grey linin, without a hint of jewels or opulence anywhere to be found. Not even a single bar of tortoiseshell through her hair.
They met beneath a darkened sky, beside a pavilion set under the rising moon. Raiden’s mother stood barefoot by the water’s edge, her hair hanging down her back.
Free.
She glanced over at Mariko and smiled. Her expression was not kind. Nor did it appear contrived. It was strong. Clear. Guileless. Which gave Mariko pause. A woman like this—perhaps the greatest enchantress of her generation—did not rise to her station without being shrewd. Without being a gifted reader of minds.
Mariko stepped beside her. Turned to face her. Studied her as she studied Mariko, without even the slightest hint of pretense. Raiden’s mother was still a beauty. Age had not lined her appearance as it had others. She looked clever. Watchful.