The feather caught the lamplight as I turned it, seeming to shimmer with an oily iridescence. “The heir presents a different challenge,” I continued, placing it before the first assassin. “Crown Prince Kioshi commands the loyalty of the eastern armies. He is younger, stronger, and more far more vigilant than his father, but every man has patterns and routines. Use them.” The assassin took the feather with delicate fingers—a woman’s touch for a prince who appreciated such things. Whether he died on the open road or in a pleasure house made little difference, so long as he died.
The second feather I held longer, considering its weight.
“The spare,” I said finally, “poses little threat but requires the most . . . creativity. Prince Haru has been sent to Suwa Temple, ostensibly for training. In truth, I believe his father seeks to keep him distant from court, safe from the coming storm.” I smiled at the irony. “How disappointing it will be for the Emperor’s spirit to learn that nowhere is safe.”
The second assassin accepted the feather.
The journey to Suwa would take two weeks, perhaps more. By then, the other raven would have completed her work, and the third prince would find himself very much alone in the world.
“My lady,” the first assassin spoke, his voice like grinding stone. “The Emperor’s dragon—”
“Is dead,” I interrupted, moving to the window where the mountains stretched endlessly northward. “The priests speak of divine blood,” I continued, not turning from the window. “They claim the Emperor’s line descends from the gods themselves, that this grants them the right to rule, but godscandie, and bloodlines end. When the last Akira falls, the people will see that divinity is nothing more than a lie told by those who would keep them on their knees.”
One of the assassins—the woman—dared to speak. “The otherhanlords—”
“Will fall in line once the Akira are gone,” I said with certainty. “The Toshi already lean toward our cause, despite Imperial pledges staining their tongues. The Yumi can be bought, and the Chinami will follow whoever controls the trade routes. And the Maria . . .” I smiled. “The Maria remember what it was like before the Empire, when eachhanruled themselves. They hunger for a return to those days.”
“And if they resist?” the first assassin asked.
“They will learn what the Emperor’s family is about to discover—that the old ways return, that strength, not bloodline, determines who rules, and thata womancan command as well as any man, better even, because we understand that true power is not inherited; it is taken.”
I turned back to face them, and I knew they could see the determination burning in my eyes. “You have your orders. The new moon comes. Strike then, when the night is darkest and the gods look away.”
They rose as one, again bowing deeply before melting back into the shadows. Only one, the one bound for Temple Suwa, hesitated near the door. “The third prince,” he said carefully. “He is untested. He was unwanted by his own father. Why eliminate him?”
“Because,” I said, returning to my table where maps of the Empire lay spread, “it is far better to remove pieces from the board than leave one that might someday become a king.”
He bowed and disappeared, leaving me alone with the presence in the shadows. I moved to my war table, studying the positions of my forces. Thousands of warriors gathered in the mountain passes. Another three thousand moved up from the southern valleys. My Asami lands had always been harsh, breeding even harder people. We didn’t need divine blood to rule—we had iron will and steel resolve.
The Empire had grown soft under Takashi’s peace, had forgotten that peace was merely the pause between wars, that harmony was an illusion maintained only as long as the strong permitted it. They believed the Emperor was untouchable, their princes protected by heaven’s mandate.
In days, they would learn how wrong they were.
I picked up a brush and began composing letters I would send once news of the assassinations reached me. They were letters of shock and condolence, letters suggesting the need for strong leadership in uncertain times, letters positioning myself as the reluctant but capable hand that could guide the Empire through its darkest hour.
By the time the otherDaimyorealized what was happening, I would already control the northern passes and trade routes. My armies would be moving toward the capital, not as conquerors but as protectors, coming to restore order in a time of chaos.
And if some whispered that I had orchestrated that chaos?
Well, whispers were simply wind, and wind could be silenced.
Ravens outside my window cawed as if in agreement, and I smiled.
Two feathers. Two deaths.
And from their ashes, a new Empire would rise—one where power went to those strong enough to seize it, not those lucky enough to be born to it.
The gods, if they existed at all, would have to accept a new order.
And if they objected?
Let them try to stop what was already in motion.
Even gods could learn to kneel.
Chapter 10
Asami Eiko
