This boy is either supremely confident or supremely foolish.
When our eyes met—his dark and young, mine lined and cold as winter storms—I saw something that made me reassess. There was depth in his gaze, an intelligence that reminded me why the Akira line had held power for so long. This pup had teeth, even if he had yet to bare them.
I climbed the steps to my throne slowly, my bulk making each stair creak, then turned and offered a bow so shallow it barely displaced the heavy braids coiled at my neck. By rights, I should have bent until my back screamed and pressed my forehead to the floor, but I wanted to see how he’d respond to provocation.
The boy didn’t even blink.
He simply returned my bow at exactly the same angle, his athletic frame moving with a dancer’s grace, his face serene as a temple pond.
Oh, thiswillbe fun.
“Welcome, my prince,” I said, deliberately omitting his proper titles. “To what do we owe the honor of an Imperial guest?”
Surprisingly, the Prince skipped the customary pleasantries and dove straight into troubled waters. “Asami Eiko-samaDaimyo, I come in the name of the Son of Heaven. His Divine Radiance, Akira TakashiTenno, wishes our peoples to live in peace as they have done these past ten years.”
Peace.
As if my thousands of armed soldiers camped on the Toshi border were a peace delegation.
I let my lips curl into a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “Are we not living in peace in this moment?”
Kitaro grunted in amusement from his position on the lower step.
Kioshi’s pale fingers twitched—only for a heartbeat—before he clasped them in his sleeves.
“Indeed,” he said, voice still pleasant as honey. “However, might we inquire as to the troops amassed on the border between the Asami and the Toshi? Toshi DaikiDaimyois . . . concerned.”
I waved dismissively, my rings catching the torchlight like drops of blood. “Daiki is always concerned about something. Last year it was the height of my border walls. Before that, the number of horses we purchased.”
“There are siege engines and thousands of Samurai camped a quarterrifrom his land, a mere tworifrom Yubi, his capital. Would it not concern you,Daimyo, if Imperial troops stood so close to your homeland?”
The boy’s words had edges now, and his shoulders had straightened, making him seem somehow taller.
I leaned forward, letting my shift become part of the threat, the throne groaning under my weight. “If the Emperor’s breath tickled my backside, I would not fear him.”
The hall went silent.
Even my guards seemed to stop breathing.
Kioshi’s long-lashed eyes closed, his head bowing as if in prayer—or resignation.
But before he could respond, before his mission of peace could go further sideways, the doors burst open with a crash that made everyone jump. A monk in brown robes rushed in, his shaved head gleaming with sweat, his weathered face white with terror or exhaustion or both. My guards moved to intercept, but he’d already fallen to his knees, pressing his forehead to the floor.
“What is the meaning of this,sohei?” I demanded, though something cold was already crawling up my spine. Monks didn’t interrupt audiences unless the world was ending.
He crawled forward, trembling, and whispered in my ear. He smelled of incense and fear. His words struck like arrows to my chest: “The Dragon’s Breath has failed. The Emperor is dead. His dragon is gone. The temples across the Empire have lost their connection. Ourmahou—”
My eyes shot to Katsumi, whose red lips had parted in shock.
This changed everything.
“Are you sure? The others?” I kept my voice low, but not low enough.
“Yes,Daimyo, everyone. It’s gone. The Emperor—”
“Enough.” I cut him off before he could say more. “Go back to your brothers while I decide what must be done.”
The monk began to rise, then froze. He’d been so focused on reaching me, he hadn’t noticed who stood in the center of my hall. Now, seeing Kioshi, he dropped again, pressing his weathered forehead to the floor with desperate fervor.
