My head snapped up, at these men who’d just murdered someone I . . . someone I cared for. Something cold and dangerous crystalized in my chest.
“I am Prince Haru’s consort,” I said, my voice steady despite the tears. “I serve under his protection.Youwill answer tohimfor this.”
The guards exchanged glances, but I didn’t care what happened next. I looked back down at Kazashita’s face, at the man who’d been both my captor and protector, who’d shown me kindness when the world offered none, who’d loved me with a purity that transcended the darkness of his troubled life.
The night wind picked up, carrying the scent of blood and jasmine from the park’s gardens.
Somewhere in the distance, a temple bell tolled.
And I kneeled in the street, holding the body of a man I could never love the way he deserved, whispering apologies to the gods who’d crafted such cruel fates for us both.
Chapter 30
Kaneko
Four Samurai, one with a crossbow now pointed at my chest, stared me down.
I kneeled in Kazashita’s blood, his body growing cold in my arms, and calculated odds I already knew. One guard, maybe. Two if I was lucky and they were slow. But four? With one already at range?
I was skilled, not suicidal.
“Stand up,” the lead guard commanded. “Slowly.”
I laid Kazashita down gently, closing his eyes with trembling fingers still sticky with his blood. His face looked peaceful now, younger, as though death had erased years of guilt and longing.
“I told you,” I said, rising to face them. “I am under Prince Haru’s protection.”
“So you claim.” The crossbowman hadn’t lowered his weapon. “You will come with us to the palace. His Highness can verify your . . . arrangement.”
“We can’t just leave him here.” I looked down at Kazashita’s still form, sprawled in his own blood like discarded refuse.
“Leave it,” one of the guards said, his voice flat and dismissive. “It’s someone else’s problem now.”
It.
This man who’d crossed oceans in search of me, to save me, reduced to something less than human in the street.
My hands balled, nails digging into my palms hard enough to draw blood. “Prince Haru values his privacy above all things. Drag me to the palace, expose his affairs, and he’ll flay the skin from your bones.”
The guards exchanged glances through their metal masks. My words rang true for any noble, but especially for a member of the royal house.
“The House of Petals then. That is where you trade cock for coin, is it not?” the lead guard spat. “Your mistress can verify your claims.”
That was better than the palace, though still dangerous. Momoko might defend me—or she might deny any knowledge and turn me over to the mercy of these Samurai.
But what choice did I have?
I nodded and forced myself to not look back at Kazashita’s body as they surrounded me—one ahead, one behind, one on each side. The walk back felt like a funeral procession. I could feel the men’s suspicion with every step, their eyes cataloging the blood on my hands, my face, the way I moved too smoothly for a simple courtesan.
The house guards gaped when they saw our approach, hands moving to weapons before recognizing the Imperial insignia born by my Samurai escorts.
“Wake the mistress,” the lead guard commanded, causing the house guards to scurry faster than I’d ever seen the lazy men move.
Momoko appeared within minutes, wrapped in silk, her face perfectly composed despite the hour. Her eyes took in everything—the guards, my black clothes, the blood still smeared across my face.
She didn’t so much as flinch. Her expression revealed nothing.
“Honored Samurai,” she said with a graceful bow. “How may the House of Petals serve the Emperor’s justice?”
