“Someone murdered him in his own palace.”
“Yes.”
“And now I have to go back there. To Bara. To court. To all those vultures circling Kioshi, and they’ll—” My voice cracked. “They’ll expect me to be . . . to do . . .”
Esumi’s arms wrapped around me before I could finish the thought, pulling me against his chest. I grabbed fistfuls of his robe and held on like he was the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly tilted sideways.
“I can’t do this, Es,” I whispered into his shoulder. “I can’t. I’m not Kioshi. I’m not Father. I’m just—”
“You are Prince Akira Haru, third son of the Emperor, Divine Son of Heaven, bearer of the dragon’s gift, and the man who just helped a terrified boy learn to control power that might have destroyed him.” Esumi’s hand moved in slow circles on my back as he whispered into my ear. “You are also the man I love, the one who makes terrible jokes when he’s nervous and pretends he doesn’t care about protocol while memorizing every rule—mostly so he knows exactly which ones to break, but still . . .”
Despite everything, a laugh tried to escape.
It came out as something between a sob and a cough.
“Father loved me,” I said. “He never expected anything of me except to be happy. He gave me freedom when he could have demanded duty. He let me be a horrible, terrible son . . . an even worse prince. Es, he let me just . . . be me.”
“He did.” Esumi squeezed me tight against him. It was only his warmth and strength that kept me upright.
“I never told him—” My throat closed around the words. “I never thanked him for understanding, for not making me into something I wasn’t. I just . . . I just left. I mean . . . he sent me away, but still . . . I came here, and I was so relieved to be away from court, and I never—”
“He knew.” Esumi’s voice was firm, his hand now gripping the back of my head, fixing me against his shoulder. “Haru,he knew. Fathers always know.”
“How? How could he know when I never said it? When I was never sure of it myself?”
“Because you are his son, and because love doesn’t always need words.” He pulled back enough to look at me, his hands framing my face. “And because the next time he saw you, you were going to tell him. You said so last week, remember? When we were falling asleep, you said when we went home, you’d tell him everything . . . how happy you were, how much Suwa had changed you, and how grateful you were for his blessing.”
Had I said that?
That memory felt distant, from a different lifetime when my father was alive and I still had time.
“I’ll never get to tell him now.”
“No,” Esumi agreed, because he’d never lied to me. “But you can honor what he gave you. You can become who he wanted you to be—yourself. Just . . . maybe . . . a version who doesn’t hide when the Empire needs him.”
“The Empiredoesn’tneed me.” I scoffed. “It’s never needed me. It needs Kioshi.”
“The Empire needsbothof you, and if something happens to your brother—”
“Don’t. Gods, please don’t finish that sentence.” I pushed back from him, something cold sliding down my spine. “Don’t eventhinkit. Kioshi is fine. He’s away on Imperial business. He’ll come back. Hehasto come back because I can’t—”
The door slid open.
We both spun, Esumi’s hand moving toward weapons he wasn’t carrying.
Kaneko stood in the doorway, his face pale, Yoshi behind him looking equally shaken.
Yoshi nodded, his usual energy subdued. “If there’s anything we can do—”
The boys stepped into the room, and Esumi pulled them into our embrace, forming an unwieldy hug that refilled my heart and offered support in ways I wasn’t sure I’d ever known from anyone save Esumi. Kaneko and Yoshi had become so much more than casual acquaintances or mere students. In the blink of an eye, they had become like family.
“There is, actually.” The words came out harder than I’d intended, but something in me was crystallizing into purpose, into the only thing I could control right now. “You’re coming with us.”
“What?” Yoshi blinked. “To Bara?”
“To Bara. Both of you.” I looked at Kaneko. “I’ll need people I trust around me, people who aren’t trying to marry me off or use me for political advantage, people who remember I’m a person, not merely a title.”
“Haru,” Esumi said carefully. “Are you sure that’s—”
