Kenshin glanced around the room. Some of the faces he vaguely recognized, as they were servants who’d been attending to him ever since he’d arrived to the imperial city. All of those present were afraid of him.
He did not know a single one of their names.
“Go.” Kenshin cleared his throat. “Please take your leave. I will clean this myself.”
The servants paused, uncertain. Then—under the direction of the most senior among them—they quietly exited the room. Kenshin sat with the mess he’d made. The waste of expensive food and the heap of broken dishes carefully sculpted by the hands of a master artisan.
His sister despised him. And the girl he loved—
Kenshin furrowed his brow.
He did not know why he’d been unable to tell Mariko that Amaya had died. He’d said she was lost. As he attempted to share the story with his sister, his memories turned foggy. Strange images of Amaya’s face, carved into the center of a tree, had taken shape instead. Dreams of fluttering silver leaves and a world without color.
Kenshin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.
He’d lost time again today. Just as he had the day by the watering hole, when he’d woken to find his hands stained with the blood of three slaughtered innocents. He had no memory of killing them, but the evidence had been irrefutable. He’d lost his honor, just as he’d lost his mind. Then a few days ago, when he’d returned from Hanami to catch his sister sneaking back to her chambers, it had happened again. After he’d been waylaid by the imperial soldiers, Kenshin remembered drunkenly following a smiling fox through the gardens.
He recalled nothing after that.
Today—as he’d moved to take position during his sister’s wedding—he’d lost consciousness again. A strange heaviness had settled behind his eyes, dulling his senses. The last image he recollected was Mariko beginning her long procession toward the shrine of the sun goddess. He remembered disapproving of the way she’d styled her shoulder-length hair. Its affront to tradition.
Hours later, Kenshin found himself outside his chamber doors, a strange ache in his right shoulder. Only then did he learn of the attempt made on the emperor’s life. He’d lost hold on most of today. His mind, his honor, his truths all betrayed him.
Kenshin knelt among the ruins of the meal and stared into the shadows on the other side of his chamber. He rolled his arm. That same twinge from earlier caught his attention. Reaching inside his kosode, he discovered a welt beside his collarbone.
As though he’d shot an arrow.
The sound of tightening sinew emanated from the darkened corner of his room. Immediately Kenshin took to his feet.
“Keep your hands at your sides,” a feminine voice rasped at him. “Don’t say a word, unless you wish it to be your last.” A small figure—dressed in garments the color of stone—moved from the shadows into a strip of moonlight cast from the open screen nearby.
The girl continued speaking as she moved closer. “I don’t understand you, Lord Kenshin. You had a clear shot, and you missed.”
Kenshin blinked. He did not know what the intruder was talking about. But he did recognize that voice. It was one of the only things to soothe him of late.
The maiko at the teahouse. Yumi.
It took only a moment for him to make the connection.
This girl had tried to kill the emperor.
Kenshin lunged for her, intent on subduing Yumi and calling for his guards. She slid from his grasp with the ease of a wriggling fish. The next instant, she swiped his legs from under him. He struck the floor with a dull thud, the breath knocked from his chest. Yumi pressed her knee on his stomach, then drove the tip of a nocked arrow into his breastbone.
“Try it again, and I will loose this through your heart.” Yumi leaned over him, her lovely eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand you,” she repeated. “Why did you miss your shot? And why would you attack me now? I tried to help you.”
“What are you talking about?” Kenshin demanded in a hoarse tone.
The girl’s eyes grew wide. “Are you in jest?”
“What?” he ground out. “I do not jest.”
Confusion etched lines across her forehead. “You tried to kill the emperor today, Hattori Kenshin.”
The Tail of a Snake
Raiden glided down the stone steps toward the two cells housed beneath the main structure of Heian Castle. As soon as he reached the bottom, he heard the retching. Smelled the blood.
The moment he learned the imperial guards had moved the boy they’d caught to a cell in the castle’s underbelly, Raiden had begun his trek there.
But Roku had beaten him to it.
The emperor had elected to take on the boy’s interrogation, as he had with Takeda Ranmaru. Raiden had cautioned him for this choice even then. Such things were beneath the dignity of a heavenly sovereign. And it had not gone unnoticed by the soldiers. By the samurai who served at Roku’s leisure.
Who abided by a strict code of honor.
At the foot of the stone staircase, Raiden came across a soldier emptying his stomach of its contents. This was not an unseasoned warrior. Age creased his features, and his armor had faded in several places. Yet the sound of his retching continued to echo through the ghostly labyrinth.
Raiden slowed his pace until he neared the two cells. He took position behind his younger brother, who still wore the same fine garments from earlier in the evening, at Raiden’s ruined wedding ceremony. Roku’s left arm hung from a linen sling. Blood stained the whole of his shoulder. The injury the would-be assassin had inflicted was not a small one. It was only luck that the arrow’s path had gone wide.
Perhaps not luck. Perhaps it had all been part of a larger plan. Raiden paused to take note of the empty cell that had contained the son of Takeda Shingen. The traitor had managed to escape in the aftermath of the attempted assassination. This did not strike Raiden as a mere coincidence.
A garbled scream cut through his thoughts. The smell of blood and burning flesh clogged his throat. Raiden coughed, his eyes watering through a haze of oily smoke. When his sight fully readjusted, he turned his gaze toward the prisoner lying across the cell floor. Shock gripped him from the inside, causing his muscles to bunch in his stomach.
“Roku,” he whispered in horror.
His younger brother glanced at him, his features calm, save for the frown touching his lips. “Brother, I’ll encourage you not to forget whom you are addressing.” Dried blood stained his fingers. Marred the hem of his golden robes.
Raiden shook his head. Paused to bow before speaking. “Please, my sovereign. I implore you. Do not continue with this. Such things are beneath you.” He repeated the same words he’d spoken to his younger brother only several days ago.
Though Roku smiled, signs of fury mottled his skin. “Do not tell me what to do, brother.”
“My sovereign—”
Roku turned in place, his robes swirling through the filth. “Your emperor’s blood was spilled today. Our most dangerous prisoner—a threat to my very existence—managed to escape in the chaos he likely orchestrated. It was at your request that I kept Lord Ranmaru alive this long. Where is he, Raiden? Find him at once. How dare you concern yourself with anything else!” His reedy voice shook as it reverberated off the rafters.
Frustration coiled in Raiden’s throat. He’d specifically asked his younger brother to execute Ranmaru upon their arrival. But it was true he’d changed his position since then … at the request of his bride. Another fact that did not escape his notice. With a careful breath, Raiden dipped his head into a low bow. “I apologize, my sovereign. I am here to do as you command.”
Roku nodded, then turned toward the soldiers surrounding the prone boy. At least one of them looked sickened, but Raiden was far more concerned with the imperial guard tasked with restraining the boy. This young man appeared as though he were enjoying the sight of such suffering.
Never before in his life had Raiden seen anything so disturbing.