The words made no sense. I stood there trying to process them, trying to understand.
You belong to Yoshi.
My knees gave out completely, and I collapsed forward, catching myself on my hands—on the Prince’s bed. Esumi moved, impossibly fast. He was beside me in an instant, powerful hands catching me, lifting me. “Easy. Just breathe. We have you now. You’re safe.”
Safe? When had I last heard that word? When had I last felt its embrace?
I gasped. Choked. Couldn’t draw air.
“Slowly,” Esumi said, all traces of his unsettling evaluation gone. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. That’s it. Again.”
He guided me to sit on the edge of the bed, supporting my weight as my legs refused to function. Haru shifted to make room, concern now clear on his face—real concern, not a performance.
“I am truly sorry, Kaneko,” Haru said. “I should have spoken sooner, should have realized—” He stopped. “You thought you would have to . . . and we let you stand there, let you try to seduce us like some trained pet. Please forgive me . . . forgive us.”
I finally managed to breathe. To think. To understand.
They were not going to use me. They had bought me—paid twentyryo—not to claim me, butto protectme.
“Your acting though.” Esumi chuckled, a teasing warmth blooming in his voice. “It’s truly terrible. ‘Tell me what you desire’?” He mimicked my voice with exaggerated breathiness. “Did they actually teach you to say that?”
Despite everything, a strangled laugh escaped me. It might’ve been choked and broken, but it was real. And gods, it felt good.
“See?” Haru smiled. “There.Thatis the real Kaneko, the one I remember. He is so much better than the man who stood before us.”
“I still don’t understand,” I whispered.
“I know.” Haru leaned forward, cupping my cheek. “But you are safe. I swear it. For tonight, and for as many nights as I can purchase. No one will touch you. No one will hurt you. If they try, an army of Imperial Samurai will tear this place apart, one plank at a time.”
Tears burned behind my eyes. I blinked them back furiously.
“Why?” I managed.
“Because I remember two boys in Tooi,” Haru said, and his teasing tone had vanished, replaced by genuine emotion. “Two boys I grew to like very much. One who blushed when I spoke of love, who looked at the other with devotion so pure it made my own heart ache.” His expression grew sad. “And I could not bear to see what that boy had become, what had been done to him—what was about to become of his beautiful soul.”
Tears fell then. I could not stop them.
Esumi handed me a cloth, and I pressed it to my face, my shoulders shaking, trying to regain some semblance of control. Haru—son of the Divine Emperor and Prince of the Empire—leaned forward and pulled me toward him, held me tight against his chest until my sobbing ceased.
“Tell me what happened,” he said gently, his hand rubbing the back of my head as any mother might soothe a troubled child. “How did you end up here?”
Reluctantly, I pulled back and looked at him, at this prince who had already shown me more kindness in a few moments than anyone had in a year, the prince who had paid a fortune just to keep me safe.
The last thing I wanted was to relive my capture, my time aboard Kichi’s ship, and my eventual sale at auction, but Haru was asking, and refusing to answer would damage this fragile safety he offered. And I wanted to tell someone—to tell him—how much I’d endured, how much I’d survived. A part of me, deep within,neededsomeone to know.
“There was an attack,” I said, my voice shaky. “On Tooi.Wakocame in the night. There were so many of them. They were everywhere. They burned the village and killed . . .” I swallowed hard. “They killed almost everyone.”
Haru and Esumi exchanged a glance, and something passed between them, a shared knowledge of something I didn’t understand.
“Yoshi and I were separated,” I continued. “I was bound and put on a ship with others taken to be slaves.” The words came easier now, a story I had told myself a thousand times in the dark. “They sailed us to an island, a holding place. We were kept there while they . . . while they decided what to do with us, while they decided who to sell where.”
“How long were you on the island?” Haru asked.
“Weeks. Maybe a month. I lost track of the days, but it couldn’t have been much longer than that.”
“What happened on the island?” Haru leaned forward, his attention now sharp. “What did you see? Who was in charge?”
The questions came so fast—sospecific—like an interrogation disguised as concern.
