There was nothing left, nothing at all, of my left eye. That side of my face looked sunken in. Before this, I didn’t realize just how much space an eye took up; when closed, it was obvious it was missing.
I pried my eyelid open. Gray-black flesh stared back at me, wet and glistening.
You were at my side within four steps, perhaps five. Wordlessly you held me.
“My bow,” I said. “How am I going to shoot my bow?”
“You have two good hands, my love,” you whispered. “And I have never known you to miss a shot, not even when your cousin blindfolded you.”
“I can’t aim,” I said. And I kept trying to turn my head, to see all the room at once, as if I had both eyes. I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something on my face, and if I just shook it off, then all that darkness would go away.
It didn’t.
“And you could not aim then!” you said. “Shefali, my dearest one—you are the first to survive the blackblood. You will not be the first one-eyed archer.”
I touched my forehead to yours. At least you were safe, I told myself. At least Nozawa would never come near you again. I’d done that much. But …
But I traced your bandages and wondered. What if I had been just a bit more perceptive?
“Shefali,” you said, “we do not have much time—”
“Highness, I hear speaking,” came a voice from the other side of the screen. When I turned, I saw a guard’s silhouette. “Is the prisoner awake?”
“One moment,” you called back. “Just one moment more.”
“O-Shizuka-shon, you are not to be left alone with her,” said the guard. He turned, slid open the screen.
But it was not a guard; it was Uemura, and he eyed me with suspicion.
You stood in front of me with your arms spread, as if your tiny size would dissuade him from arresting me.
“Uemura-zul,” you said, “she does not know what’s going on. Let me inform her. Only a few more minutes.”
“If you have anything else to say to her, the Emperor decrees you must say it in my presence,” he said. Then he shook his head and sighed. “I am sorry, Barsalai-sun, but we can no longer trust you.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I didn’t hurt anyone.”
“You killed General Nozawa Kagemori, who watches the north,” Uemura said.
“No humans,” I clarified.
He frowned. “Barsalai-sun,” he said, “you changed. This form you wear now is not the true one, is it?”
Was I no longer considered human? I stared down at the backs of my hands. I was still made of flesh. My heart still beat beneath my breast, I still breathed, I still loved you.
I sniffed, and in so doing caught a whiff of Uemura. Shame and guilt stuck to the roof of my mouth like horse fat. Something else, too. Sweet, but a bit sour, like one of those fruits that look creamy on the inside when you split them open. But I only smelled that when he …
When he looked at you.
Let him look, I told myself. Let him look.
“I’m human enough,” I said.
“How dare you speak to her like that, Kaito-zun?” you said. “She alone recognized Nozawa for what he was, and you’re asking if she’s human?”
Uemura let out a breath. “It doesn’t matter, in the end,” he said. “You’re to come with me.” He reached for his belt and fetched a pair of manacles.
I raised a brow.
“I know they are not much,” he says, “but you are to wear them, regardless. The Emperor is strict on that point.”
You argued. As an eagle must drop turtles on the heads of bald men, so must you argue. Ten, fifteen minutes passed, but Uemura would not budge. I had to be manacled.
I didn’t mind that much. It was more amusing than insulting.
As we made our way through the halls, I made my tallies.
In my favor: I had not killed anyone except a demon. I’d acted out to keep you safe. My father and brother held favor at court. You loved me, for some reason, and still did, knowing what manner of creature I am.
Against me: The Emperor hates Qorin. I carry a fatal disease that will infect anyone who comes into contact with my blood. I became something else. I tore a man’s head off in broad daylight. I tore through several more men back in Imakane.
With every step, my feet felt heavier.
Your uncle was the least popular Emperor in years, despite his efforts to the contrary. At forty-six, with no children, he was already a subject for ridicule. Unlike his father, Emperor Yorihito the Builder, who built eight academies in each of the eight provinces, your uncle had done nothing to better the Empire. When the Empire’s crops were blighted in the fields, his response was to increase his gardening budget, send a few guards out to proclaim all was well, and continue about his business. He hadn’t reclaimed any of the land beyond the Wall of Flowers, hadn’t done anything about its decline, hadn’t consulted the gods he was supposedly related to about their disappearance.
He was not a poet, like his brother. Not a man of science and technology, like his father. Not a conqueror, like his grandfather. He was …
He was not much at all.
But here he had an opportunity. No one would bat an eye if he had me killed. In fact, there might be celebrations. Killing a blackblood is a heroic thing, and has been since they first emerged. Killing a demon is more impressive still.
Killing a girl who contracted the disease and lived?
A little trickier. But given my display and Uemura’s comments, I don’t think I’m counted as human anymore by Hokkaran reckoning.
So killing me would bring great honor to whoever did it. And your uncle was a man desperately in need of honor.
I kept following Uemura. Though I knew I’d likely die at the end of it, I followed Uemura. I tried to force myself to be afraid, or to worry. Instead, I kept looking at you. What would happen if Uemura executed me before the Emperor? What would happen to you? I could see you, in my mind, throwing yourself on top of me just before the fatal stroke.
If it was going to happen, I hoped he would have me executed far away from you. I did not want your final memory of me to be my severed head hitting the ground. Ren’s words rang in my mind. I could not leave the Empress tied to a tree.
But what other option did I have? What was I going to do if he made that decision and I disagreed? Kill the Emperor and Uemura, then plant you on the Dragon Throne and pretend nothing amiss happened?
I did not want to die, but I saw no way to escape my rapidly approaching fate.
“Uemura-zun,” you said, “the shrine is just up ahead. May we stop to pray?”
Strange. I’ve never known you to pray of your own volition. In your mind, you were a god, and you did not need to pray to yourself to get things done.
“O-Shizuka-shon,” said Uemura, “I have strict orders to escort the prisoner to the reception hall as soon as she awakens.”
“You’ve not sent word ahead,” you pointed out. “We can take as long as we like. Besides, Uemura-zun; we do not know what will happen once we walk through those doors. A small blessing alone would ease my mind.”
You were up to something.