“I got lucky. We both did.”
“Gods’ blessed skill is more like it.” His good hand found my knee, squeezed gently. “Stop torturing yourself over things that didn’t happen and focus on what did—we survived. All of us who matter made it through.”
“All of uswho matter?” I looked up sharply. “Two Samurai are dead, Esumi. They were good men who were only there because of me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like . . . I know. It’s terrible, and you’ll carry that weight because you’re not a monster.” He held my gaze. “But if you let that weight crush you, if you start believing you’re responsible for every death that happens in your proximity, you’ll be useless when the Empire really needs you.”
“The Empire doesn’t—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” His voice turned. “Don’t say the Empire doesn’t need you, not after today, not after you fought like one of the heroes of old and saved lives with every stroke of your blade. You want to honor those dead soldiers? You live andlead. Become someone worth dying for.”
His words were daggers in my gut, each one finding a mark I didn’t know I’d left undefended.
“I don’t know how to be that person,” I said, pausing and looking away.
“Then learn. You learned to control your gift. You can learn this, too.”
I tied off the final stitch and sat back, surveying my work. It wasn’t pretty, but it would hold. The priests could check it later, make sure I hadn’t botched anything critical.
“There,” I said, reaching for the bandages. “Try not to tear these open before tomorrow.”
“I’ll do my best, though if you keep being sweet to me, I might swoon and undo all your hard work.”
“I’m not being sweet. I’m being practical,” I grumbled.
“You’re holding my hand.”
I looked down. Damn it, he was right—again. My fingers were laced through his, holding on like I was afraid he might disappear if I let go.
“Shut up,” I muttered, but still I didn’t let go.
A soft knock interrupted whatever snip was on his tongue next. I called permission to enter, and Kaneko slipped inside, his clothes still dusty from the road, a cut across his cheekbone that someone had cleaned but not bandaged.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, though his eyes took in our joined hands without comment. A smile curled his lips at the sight. “KonDaimyorequests your presence when you’re able. He says there are things you need to know before we proceed to Bara.”
My stomach clenched. “What things?”
“He wouldn’t say. Only that it was urgent.”
Esumi squeezed my hand. “Go. I’ll be fine here. The priests will probably want to fuss over me anyway.”
“I can stay—”
“Haru.” He squeezed once more, then freed himself from my grip. “Go be a prince. I’ll be here when you get back.”
I stood, every muscle in my body protesting. The fight had taken more out of me than I’d realized—or maybe it was grief and fear and the weight of everything pressing down so hard I could barely breathe.
Maybe it was everything.
I didn’t know anymore.
“Come on,” Kaneko said gently. “Best not to keep aDaimyowaiting.”
“Kaneko, you forget, the Emperor is the only man alive who I can’t keep waiting.” I gave Kaneko a weak grin and ignored Esumi’s snort as we stepped out of the chamber.
We wove through Heiwa’s corridors, the walls decorated with tapestries depicting the city’s long history. Servants dropped to their knees as we passed. Guards straightened to attention. Minor nobles whispered behind their fans as they bowed low.
Everyone knew who I was.
