Hana rolled her eye, pressed her lips shut and stared at the floor.
“I swore no oath to him,” Yukiko growled. “Never in my life did I make a promise to that baby-killing bastard.”
A murmur rippled amongst the courtiers, as if a pebble had been dropped into quiet water. She felt dark stares on her, heard Buruu’s voice rolling in her mind.
REMEMBER WHERE YOU HAVE STOOD. WHAT YOU ARE.
She stared at Isamu.
“The Kazumitsu Dynasty was a tyranny, and its alliance with the Lotus Guild has dragged this nation to ruin. You see it, too, Daimyo. Or else why give insult to Tora Hiro by not attending his wedding?”
“Tora Hiro?” The old man crowed with laughter. “That sniveling little upstart? I wouldn’t drag my carcass out of this chair to piss on him if he were on fire, let alone all the way across the country to attend his sham of a wedding.”
“So Hiro is your enemy.”
“Hiro is an insult. I am descended from the first Daimyo of this zaibatsu—great Okimoto, the warlord who subjugated the clans of Serpent, Falcon, Spider and Wolf.” He thumped his fists on his armrest. “This is one of the Four Thrones of Shima, mine by right of blood and birth. And I should bow before a samurai’s son?”
THERE IT IS. HIS WEAKNESS.
Yukiko nodded.
Pride.
PRESS IT.
“We’ve heard through our agents the Guild are upset with your defiance,” she said.
“I should be impressed?” The old man waved a hand, as if swatting a bothersome fly. “Everyone knows they withhold their boons after I slighted their would-be Shōgun.”
“That’s how they control you. Through the promise of fuel. In Kigen, they’re offering payment to people who bring victims to the Burning Stones. People like Hana and I, who carry the Kenning. More innocents murdered, just for an accident of birth.”
“So we have a common enemy. Your point?”
“My enemy’s enemy is my friend.”
“You have a fine way of treating your friends, girl. Setting their cities on fire.”
“It’s the Guild who burned your city, Daimyo. The same Guild who starve your armies of fuel until you do your duty. Obey the forms of Bushido. Kneel before your new Shōgun.”
Isamu’s eyes narrowed to papercuts.
“I fought the gaijin in Morcheba for twenty years. I sent all five of my sons to the war and none returned. I do not need Bushido or duty explained to me by some filthy chi-monger, and I do not kneel before anyone, girl. Least of all some crippled Tiger puppet!”
“Nor should you, honorable Lord.” A grim smile lit Yukiko’s face. “And I have no doubt you’ll help us teach a lesson to those who think you will.”
The Daimyo glanced at General Ginjiro.
“The pair on this girl…”
“Solid brass,” the general nodded.
“Honorable Daimyo,” Yukiko sighed. “It comes to this. We have common purpose and a common foe. I need a place for my friends to stay. A harbor for the Guild rebels. If you’re actually serious about defying the Guild, now is your chance to prove it.”
“Why should I help?” the clanlord asked. “What do you offer?”
Yukiko glanced around the room, the narrowed eyes above fluttering fans, the hiss of serpent’s breath behind golden breathers. She looked again at the Daimyo—this withered old viper with razored teeth. Was he an honorable man, or just a grumpy old warmonger? Was he defying the Guild because he believed in their evil, or because he just wanted to pick a fight?
“Tora Hiro marches north with the Earthcrusher to make you kneel before him,” she said. “I’ll defend Yama from this Tiger army, the Guild war machine behind it.”
Isamu leaned back in his chair. “You’ll swear to me, then?”
“I swear to no throne,” Yukiko said. “I pledge myself to Shima’s people. The mothers and fathers and sons and daughters who choke under poisoned skies. Who sent their children off to die in a war made of lies. I pledge my life to them. Not you, Daimyo. Them.”
Hana was staring at Yukiko, jaw hanging slack. Looking around at the assembled Kitsune court, the girl stepped up beside Yukiko and took her hand.
“Godsdamn right.”
The Daimyo glanced at his general, a smile in his eyes. He looked down at the swords at his waist, the courtiers assembled around his throne, the two girls before him. The mechanical musicians played on in the corner, their song suddenly and terribly out of place.
“Solid brass,” he muttered.
The clanlord stood, covered his fist and offered a bow.
“I accept your terms. If only because I can’t wait to see the look on Tora Hiro’s face when a pair of thunder tigers fly up his hindparts and start cutting his dogs to ribbons.” Isamu nodded. “I offer you and your friends sanctuary in Kitsune-jō.”
Yukiko sighed, relief flooding over her in warm waves.
“My thanks, great Lord.”
Buruu’s voice rang inside her head.
IS EVERYTHING WELL, SISTER?
Better than well, brother. Hana and I are coming out now.
Yukiko grabbed Hana’s hand and walked from the throne room, a grim smile on her face.