He faltered as he moved forward. Lost his center for a moment. A sword slashed past his side, the edge of the blade nicking his skin. Glancing off his ribs.
That soldier lost his head in a single blow.
Then Ōkami reached Ren. Before he could grant himself a chance to think, he locked eyes with the moon and yelled the guttural yell of something barely human. Then he dissolved into a dark smoke that spiraled into the night sky, the echoes of an otherworldly scream trailing in its wake.
When Ōkami landed in the clearing, he dropped Ren’s lifeless body. Then he took a single breath before collapsing to the ground.
Severed Limbs and Broken Ties
Hours later, in a darkened corner of the castle grounds, the imperial guards found a boy trying to conceal a bow and arrow deep in a servant’s well. He panicked when he saw the samurai racing toward him. In his panic, the boy nearly threw himself into the well along with the weapons.
He could not have been more than twelve years of age.
When the boy was brought before Raiden, tears streamed down his cheeks. He was not even old enough to have a single hair on his chin. The first thing he asked for was his grandmother. A soldier cuffed him across the side of the head for his insolence.
It would not be the last time the boy was struck.
Raiden clenched his right fist. The ache from his injured arm radiated into his side. He let the pain wash over his body, reminding him of how closely he’d strolled beside Death. How closely his emperor—his younger brother—had been to meeting his end.
He intended to punish the boy. Extract whatever information he could, and then separate the boy’s head from his body with a single swipe of a sword.
Alas, that was not his brother’s plan.
Mariko remained kneeling on her chamber floor for hours before Isa slid open the doors. The maidservant bowed at the threshold and set down a tray of food. Then the samurai guarding Mariko permitted her brother to enter. To speak with her, alone.
Though he appeared stern, haggardness lined Kenshin’s features, as though he had not slept for an age. Mariko’s fingers shook with relief at seeing her brother unharmed. “Is the emperor badly wounded?”
“No.” He stayed beside the door, declining to meet her gaze.
Mariko swallowed. “Is Raiden?”
“No.”
He sounds … disappointed.
Unsure of what to say, Mariko bided her time. “I—”
“Once the commotion dies down, I intend to leave Inako and return home.”
Though she was surprised to hear this, Mariko kept it to herself.
After a moment of stony silence, Kenshin continued, still refusing to look her in the eye. “Now that your marriage ceremony has concluded, I intend to seek the whereabouts of—”
“What happened to Amaya, Kenshin?”
Her brother stopped short. His weariness grew even more apparent. “I asked you before not to—”
“No.” Mariko’s words were a tattered whisper. “I’ve kept silent. I’ve done this dance of lies so many times I fear I no longer know what’s true. I’ve hidden my thoughts and feelings from you in ways I never believed I would.” She tried to stand and failed, the heavy silks of her layered garments making it impossible to take to her feet without assistance. “Why are you treating me as though I am a criminal, Kenshin?”
He crossed the room in two long strides, towering over her. “You think I’m the only one among us who has acted unfairly?” Kenshin’s breath shook with rage. “Not once—not a single time after the battle in Jukai forest—have you looked at me without duplicity in your eyes.”
“If I deceived you, it was only because you left me with no choice,” Mariko cried. “You never once thought to ask me what happened after my convoy was overrun. The moment I emerged from the forest, you treated me with nothing but cold disdain.” She took a halting breath. “You let Raiden and his men fire arrows at me. You didn’t care if I was hurt, so long as you stood on the winning side.”
“What should I have done? What could I have done?” A look of abject pain crossed Kenshin’s face. “What choice did you leave me? You were fighting alongside traitors.”
She forced her back straight and lifted her chin. “I was not allied with them. I was their prisoner.” The fingers folded in her lap trembled.
“More lies, little sister,” he said in a dangerous whisper, his expression turning to ice. “I saw your hands. The mud you used to make it seem as though you were being held captive. It coated the sprays of blood from battle. Why would you have smeared mud on your body if not to conceal the proof that you fought alongside them?” Each word was a small cut made with a newly honed dagger. Kenshin continued looming over her, his fists curling and uncurling at his sides. As though he wished to strike something and watch it shatter in his shadow. No trace of the brother Mariko had known and loved all her life remained. He was a warrior intimidating his quarry. A samurai intent in his purpose. The threat of violence tinged the air like a blade shining in the sun.
For the first time in her life, Mariko felt afraid of her brother. The feeling stole her breath, like claws tightening around her neck. “How could you possibly have known any of that before you let Raiden’s men try to murder me?”
Kenshin’s nostrils flared. “I am the Dragon of Kai. Do you think I would not know when a mere girl tried to deceive me?” His gaze darkened as though clouds had settled across his vision.
At the sight, Mariko tamped down the urge to strike out at him. To silence him where he stood. Horror followed the thought.
Mariko wanted to cause her brother physical harm.
This was Kenshin. Her twin. Her family. No matter how much they differed—how at odds they were in both attitude and agenda—she’d never wished to truly hurt him even once in seventeen years.
A muscle ticked in Kenshin’s neck. With visible effort, he battled against the rage teeming like an unchecked demon beneath his skin. “Do you think I had a say in what happened that night in Jukai forest? The instant I put our men in formation behind Prince Raiden, I knew I had lost all control.” He dropped his voice. “You are not foolish enough to believe I could have stopped them. And this is not about what happened that night. No words can excuse what we did to each other. You are just as much to blame as I am.” He drew closer, his toes grazing the edge of her silken hem. That same desire to strike out at him—to spare herself from being cornered by a bigger, stronger foe—caused Mariko’s fingers to ball into fists.
He is my brother.
This would always be their truth. Just as it would always be their truth if they crossed an irrevocable line right now. If Kenshin tried to hit her. If Mariko moved to attack him. It would be an action that could never be undone. There were ways for her to disarm her brother, even now. To allay his fears with falsehoods. At the mere thought, lies began collecting on the tip of her tongue.
But Mariko had lied to him for so long. It wearied her, these stories she spun like yarn to everyone around her. Just once she wanted to tell Kenshin the truth. To put an end to this dance of fury and deception. It was a risk, but her brother had kept her most precious secret in the last few days.
Perhaps it was time to trust him with more.
“Stop it, Kenshin.” Mariko decided to begin with a small truth. “You’re frightening me.”
He stood straight at her words, his face suddenly stricken. Kenshin took a step back, then stopped, his movements awkward. Then he held out a hand to help Mariko to her feet. She briefly considered rebuffing it, but gripped his palm until she stood before him, face-to-face.
“No more lies,” Kenshin said, his voice weary. “If you want me to be truthful with you, then you must do the same with me, Mariko.”
She nodded.
“Why did you turn your back on your family to fight alongside these traitors?” Kenshin asked.
Mariko hesitated for a breath. “Because I believe in their cause.”
“Their cause?” He scoffed.
“Don’t you see, Kenshin? We are like well-clothed leeches, with all our fine silks and elegant fans. We do nothing for the people who work our lands.”