They’d understand.
Theyhadto understand.
Then something glinted on the table.
The golden coin shimmered in the candlelight. I’d removed it from my pocket, annoyed at how it dug into my hip as I lay on my side. Now, it glared back, accusing, demanding.
The flame flickered wildly despite the still air, shadows dancing across the walls like living things. I imagined them reaching toward me with grasping fingers.
The coin glimmered, and the Emperor’s eyes emblazoned on its golden field glared.
It was a reminder of my vows.
Its message was clear.
You serve the Emperor, now and forever. Your vows stand. There is no walking away.
But I couldn’t lose Yoshi. Not again. Not when the universe had impossibly brought us back together. There had to be a way to balance both, to serve the shadows while still having this love.
The door slid open, and Yoshi slipped in, still glowing with meditation-induced peace. I reached over and snatched the coin from the table, shoving back into my pocket.
“You’re awake,” he said, smiling as he moved toward the mat, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. “I thought you’d be asleep.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, and my voice must have betrayed something because his smile faded.
“What’s wrong?” He settled beside me, his hand immediately finding mine. “Kaneko?”
I stared at him—this boy I’d loved since before I knew what the word meant, the one who’d somehow forgiven the universe enough to smile like that—and felt my heart tear in two.
I should tell him.
I couldn’t tell him.
I had to tell him.
It would destroy us.
But maybe it didn’t have to.
Maybe I could find a way to serve my vow and my heart.
“Nothing,” I lied, pulling him down for a kiss that tasted like hope and fear intertwined. “Just thinking too much.”
He kissed me back, gentle and sweet, and I hated myself for every secret that sat between us like a blade waiting to drop.
“Don’t think,” he murmured against my lips. “Just be here. With me.”
So I tried. I pushed down the fears and doubts and let myself drown in his touch, in this stolen happiness that felt more fragile than glass. But in the darkness behind my closed eyes, I could see it all—the House of Petals, Sakurai’s clinical touch, the golden coin, the blood on my hands.
The truth that would eventually destroy us, whether I spoke it aloud or not.
For tonight, though, I chose silence. I chose his happiness over honesty. I chose to pretend we could have this, even though every shadow in the room reminded me that I belonged to the darkness now.
Because darkness always collected its debts.
Chapter 39
Yoshi
