There was so much between them. So many unspoken sentiments.
The emperor drank deep from the bowl. Set it down.
Genmei rinsed it and repeated the process so that she, too, could drink from the same bowl. Share in the same ceremony of harmony and respect.
“I have been unkind to you,” the emperor said quietly, when Genmei had finished drinking her tea.
She said nothing. Refused to allow hope to enter her mind.
Hope was a poison to her world.
“It was not my wish for things to happen in such a way. But I do wish for things to change in the future,” he continued.
“Forgive me, my sovereign, but how can things ever change when—when she is still here?” Genmei said, her words laced with venom.
“Kanako is my royal consort. She is not leaving Heian Castle.” The emperor’s tone was firm. “But I do want to mend things between us. I do want to create a bridge between our worlds.”
“Why?”
“Because I look at our son, and I want our son to be better than we are, Genmei.” The emperor sighed. “I want him to see a better example.”
“Roku is better than we are.”
“I know I can be better. That we can be better.” The emperor stood and made his way to the steps of the moon-viewing pavilion. He waited for Genmei.
Something he’d never done before.
Each of her movements guarded, Genmei joined him. They donned their zori and walked together toward the pond’s edge. Waxy lily pads glistened beneath a ghostly full moon. Frogs and cicadas sang together in discordant chorus.
The emperor cleared his throat. “There is hatred between us.”
“There is,” Genmei agreed.
“Will you not agree to become better than our hatred? For the sake of our son?”
Genmei turned toward him. Looked her emperor in the eye.
He coughed as he met her gaze. His face became flushed.
There was a time she would have given anything to hear him say these words. To hear him say he cared about her—cared about their future—even in the barest of measures.
The emperor coughed again, a fist raised to his lips. Awareness began to take shape in his eyes. They bulged as his fingers grasped at his collar.
He tried to shout. But his voice remained lodged in his throat.
Genmei stood silent. She watched.
Tranquil. In harmony with herself.
As the Emperor of Wa keeled over into the pond beside his favorite moon-viewing pavilion.
Genmei looked at her husband for a moment.
“No, my sovereign,” she spoke softly. “We cannot become better than our hatred. But to protect our son from your mistakes, I will do whatever is necessary.” With the toe of her lacquered sandal, she shoved his head beneath the water.
Then Genmei breathed deep. Waded into the pond. And began screaming.
“Help! Someone please help. The emperor has fallen!”
Above them, a swallow with iridescent wings took flight on a gust of wind.
Vanishing into the night.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
“You must understand that there is more than one path to the top of the mountain.”
—Miyamoto Musashi
I’ve written seven novels, several of which will—thankfully—never see the light of day. Whenever I finish writing a book, I always take a moment to reflect on what the experience has taught me. In many ways, writing Flame in the Mist was a bigger challenge than anything I have ever attempted professionally.
It was also one of the most rewarding.
Of course, it often takes a village to point me in the right direction. To my compass—my agent, Barbara Poelle—I am thankful every day for you. Your wisdom, your guidance, your humor, your candor—this dream of mine would never be possible without you.
To my editor, Stacey Barney: will there ever be enough words to express my gratitude? I think not. So instead let’s clear out a few more restaurants and make sure every place we visit is haunted by the echoes of our laughter.
To the team of amazing people at Penguin: I am always struck by your limitless passion. The work you do—and the work you enable me to do—is beyond important, now more than ever. To Kate Meltzer and my tireless publicist Marisa Russell: you never fail to keep this ship of ours on course. Thank you, a thousand times over. A wealth of gratitude for Carmela Iaria, Alexis Watts, Doni Kay, Chandra Wohleber, Theresa Evangelista, Eileen Savage, Jen Besser, Elyse Marshall, Lisa Kelly, Lindsay Boggs, Sheila Hennessey, Shanta Newlin, Erin Berger, Christina Colangelo, Colleen Conway, Judy Parks Samuels, Tara Shanahan, and Bri Lockhart. And a special note of thanks to Kara Brammer for all of your ingenious ideas.
These last few years, I’ve been privileged to meet and interact with so many amazing bloggers, librarians, readers, and book lovers across the globe. Thank you so much for the laughs, the fan art, the letters, and the shared excitement. You are the reason I do what I do. A shout-out to Natasha Polis and Christine Riccio: that bird in San Diego will never be the same after seeing us.
To my writing sisters—Joy Callaway, Sarah Henning, Ricki Schultz, JJ, Roshani Chokshi, and Traci Chee—I can’t wait to see what the future has in store for us as we continue this journey together.
To the early readers of Flame in the Mist—Sabaa Tahir, Marie Rutkoski, Dr. Jan Bardsley, Misa Sugiura, and Sarah Nicole Lemon—your notes and your guidance and your love were invaluable. This book would not be what it is without you. Any errors or oversights within the work are mine alone.
Among the greatest gifts of this career have been the friendships I’ve made with so many astoundingly talented writers. To Beth Revis, Lauren DeStefano, Sona Charaipotra, my tour wifey Dhonielle Clayton, Victoria Aveyard, Adam Silvera, David Arnold, Nicki and David Yoon, Victoria Schwab, Jason Reynolds, Daniel Jose-Older, Brendan Reichs, Soman Chainani, Margie Stohl, Kami Garcia, Megan Miranda, Gwenda Bond, Sarah Maas, Cassie Beasley, Lauren Billings, Christina Hobbs, and Nic Stone: thank you for all the laughter and the wonderful late-night chats. Lo, I don’t think I can go to Vegas again without you. Brendan and Kami: thanks for braving the super spider in our quest for the One Ring.
To Marie Lu and Carrie Ryan for being constant sources of love and support. I always leave our times together wishing we could hang out more.
To my assistant, Sarah Weiss: thank you for making sure I dot every i and cross every t with your signature style and grace.
To Brita Lundberg, Heather Baror-Shapiro, and the wonderful team at IGLA: thank you for all your endless work and unceasing professionalism.
To Sabaa: every seven I see, I thank the stars for you.
To Elaine: there are no words to express how much your friendship has meant to me. Through the good and the not-so-good, you have always been my light on the distant shore.