Warning bells rang in my mind. Why did he want to know these details? What would he do with the information?
For reasons I may never know, my mind drifted to the coin, my new symbol of service. My role was to gather information, not give it. Should I share what I saw? What I heard? All I learned? This was the Prince, after all, a member of the Imperial household, the same household I now served. Still, something in me hesitated, and I struggled to form the right words.
“I . . . there was a man. Kichi. He was the captain of a ship . . .The Emperor’s Wormthey called it. I don’t know who ran things on the island.” I spoke carefully now. “Kichi sorted the captives, decided who would go where, who was valuable enough for what they called special treatment.”
“Special treatment,” Esumi repeated. “Like you?”
I nodded slowly. “There were others. Beautiful ones. Young ones. Some of them were so young, Haru . . .PrinceHaru . . . gods, forgive me.”
Haru’s hand found my cheek again. His thumb wiped away a tear. “Kaneko, it is only us here now. Besides, I never cared for courtly etiquette anyway. Just breathe and continue your tale.”
I blinked, unable to process the shattering of tradition, the breaches of etiquette and protocol and so many other revered forms that had become virtual religions of their own. And yet, a part of me remembered the prince I’d met a year before. He was the same man, bearing the same indifference to formality and structure, the same royal whose kindness lifted both Yoshi and me when our hearts most needed it. I knew this man. I could trust him. No matter what my head thought, my heart told me it was so.
I nodded, gulped, then continued. “We were kept separate and fed better. I guess we were prepared for . . . for this.” I gestured to the room and then to myself. “For pleasure houses. The last thing they wanted was for expensive products to be damaged or made less valuable. I guess, in that way, I was lucky.” My words stumbled. “I—the island was—”
“Yes?” Haru prompted. “The island was . . . ?”
“The island was terrible,” I croaked out. “I don’t remember much. I tried not to . . .” I looked at Haru. “Forgive me. It is . . . It was . . . Gods, it was so awful.”
Something shifted in Haru’s expression. Understanding wrapped in sympathy. “Of course. You have endured enough without me demanding details.”
Though he pressed on. “What of Yoshi?” Haru asked, his tone gentler now. “Were you separated during the attack? Do you know what happened to him?”
And that question broke me. All the control I had been struggling to regain shattered. The tears came again, harder this time, and my body racked with sobs I could not contain.
Haru held me again, this time closer, tighter, with all the strength his arms could muster. At one point, I felt Esumi join the embrace, his cheek resting on my back as his arms tried to encircle us both.
“I don’t know,” I choked out, my words muffled against Haru’s chest. “I don’t know if he’s alive. I don’t know where he is. It’s been a year—more than a year—and I havenothing. No word. No sign. He could be . . . Oh, gods, Haru, he could be dead . . . or he could be suffering worse than I am. He could be—”
I couldn’t finish, couldn’t breathe past the grief that had been building for months, the grief that now rushed out of me like a swollen river bursting from its banks. I buried my face in the Prince’s chest and let grief flow freely.
“I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I amsosorry, Kaneko.”
“I should have protected him,” I said through the tears. “I’m older and stronger and a better fighter. I should have kept him safe, should’ve died before letting them take him, but I couldn’t—I wasn’t strong enough—I wasn’t enough, Haru.”
“Stop.” Haru’s voice was firm, once more the command of a prince. “You were victims, both of you. You are not to blame for what was done to you or to him.”
“But he’s out there somewhere. Alone. And I’m here learning to . . . I can’t . . . I just can’t—”
This time, neither spoke. They didn’t try to stop my tears or soothe my pain. They simply held me together while I broke apart, offering safety and warmth.
Two sources of warmth.
Two anchors in the storm that was my life.
When I finally exhausted myself, when the tears slowed and my breathing steadied, I felt hollow and wrung out, yet somehow . . . lighter.
“I would purchase your freedom if I could,” Haru said. “But royalty cannot act so blatantly, so publicly. Not even the willful son with a reputation for rebellion.” He winced, then added, “Perhaps rebellion wasn’t the best choice there, but you understand my meaning.”
“You think?” Esumi grinned, chuckling. “Say the word ‘rebel’ anywhere near the palace and a hundred Samurai draw their blades. We’ll be short one prince if you keep with that talk.”
I looked between them, between the Prince and his lover, and envied their easy banter, the comfort with which they slid in and out of each other’s minds. They were a beautiful pair, and it brought me some measure of joy to see their happiness.
“In any case.” Haru rolled his eyes, but his lips were curled upward. “There are already too many questions following tonight’s auction.” He paused. “Eyes are always watching. Expectations and political implications litter this city like cobbles of the streets, but I have done what I can. I purchasedallof your nights for the next few weeks, told the mistress I was quite taken with you and wished exclusive access.”
I looked up at him, hardly daring to believe his words.
“I am to travel south soon,” Haru continued. “To Temple Suwa for training. This trip was arranged for some time ago—part of my education, they say. Though in truth, I suspect it is also part of my mother’s and the Grand Minister’s design to keep me out of trouble here in the capital.” He smiled as Esumi chuckled again. “Regardless, I leave in a few weeks. Before then, I hope to find a way to extract you from this place without drawing too much attention.”
