Two weeks passed before Eiko and Takashi were summoned to the Hall of Great Harmony, the Emperor’s formal audience chamber normally reserved for the most ceremonial of occasions. Eiko vibrated with happiness in anticipation of the Emperor’s blessing.
But rather than a blessing, the Emperor’s angry gaze threatened to sear them both.
“Asami troops have slaughtered and burned a village inside Toshi lands. Women and children were put to the blade, while fathers, brothers, and husbands were forced to watch. When the Samurai finally left, none still lived, and barely a single home remained unburned. The village has ceased to exist.”
We stood there, gaping up at Takashi’s father, unable to speak or move or think.
The Emperor raged on, “Days passed before a second village vanished. It appears our supposed allies knewexactlywhatthey were doing. This was no errant troop. This was a blatant attack.”
“Father—” Takashi tried to speak, but his father would have none of it.
“The Asami—your people, Eiko—are supposed to be our allies. We have fought together for nearly fifteen years. We have shared everything. We fight to unite the Empire, to save our people from starvation and war, to bring peace and prosperity to a bloodied nation desperately in need of respite.” Takashi’s father’s head bowed, as he muttered, “Clearly, I was mistaken in trusting the Asami.”
Heaven did not make mistakes. An emperor did not admit fault.
TheDaijokanwas stunned into silent submission.
The Emperor’s gaze rose to meet his son’s. “Takashi, you will wed the eldest daughter of ToshiHan. We must show strength and unity in the face of this insult and unite those truly committed to our Empire.” Senti’s eyes then locked on Eiko’s. “The daughter of Asami will return to her home immediately and never return. She—and all Asami—are forthwith exiled from the capital.”
“Father—”
“Silence!” Senti’s voice boomed through the hall. His emerald dragon’s head lifted. Fire bloomed in its maw. “Your emperorhas spoken. Dare not challenge the word of Heaven in this hall. Now, go. I want all Asami out of our lands before the sun sets.”
Senti rose and stormed out, a billowing cloud of golden silk. His dragon slithered out behind him, casting one final backward glance at the stunned pair.
Eiko and Takashi stared at the Jade Throne, too stunned to weep, too angry to speak.
Chapter 19
Kaneko
We’d only spent three days in the Imperial palace, and I still caught myself gaping like a river fish every time I rounded a corner to find a new, ever more wonderful painting or tapestry or carving. Most were as old as the Empire itself, probably older. A few, servants claimed, were gifts from the gods themselves.
I doubted those claims, though some of the craftsmanship certainly looked divine.
The corridors alone defied comprehension—some wide enough for five men to walk abreast. Every surface told a story. The walls bore murals of the Empire’s founding, dragons coiled around the throne or flying high over battles. Their golden scales were fashioned from actual gold leaf embedded in the paint. When sunlight streamed through the latticed windows, those dragons appeared to breathe.
“Look at this one,” Yoshi whispered, stopping before a particularly elaborate panel depicting the first emperor receiving the dragon’s blessing. His fingers hovered near thesurface, not quite touching the paint, reverent despite his frustration. “The detail in the scales . . . I could study this for hours and still find new things.”
“We’ve studied it for hours,” I reminded him gently. “Yesterday and the day before.”
His shoulders sagged. “Right.”
And yet, for all its beauty, the palace had transformed into something else these past days. War had descended upon paradise.
Generals marched through those magnificent halls like warlords, their armor clanking against the silence, their boots thundering across floors meant for silk slippers. Twice that morning alone, Yoshi and I had thrown ourselves against a wall as formations of high-ranking Samurai charged past, their faces grim beneath their helmets, their hands never leaving their sword hilts despite racing through the heart of the Empire. They moved like sharks through water—and everything else had to flow around them or be crushed.
“Did you see that one’s face?” Yoshi muttered once they’d passed. “He looked right through me, like I wasn’t even there.”
“We’re not warriors preparing for battle,” I said, though the dismissal had stung more than I cared to admit. “To them, we’re just obstacles to walk around.”
“Wecouldbe warriors preparing for battle if anyone would let us. You’re as skilled as half the soldiers in the army, and I . . . well . . . I have strength I can’t control, but it’s something.”
“You’re something, all right,” I teased.
The Garden of Eternal Autumn, where maple trees remained forever suspended between green and fire, now hosted strategy meetings. Maps were spread across stone benches meant for moon-viewing. The pavilion where Emperor Takashi had written poetry now sheltered arguments about supply lines and defensive positions. Tiny silver bells that hung from purple-blueroof tiles still chimed in the breeze, but their music was drowned out by shouts and barks of orders.
Yoshi and I tried to sit in the garden, seeking some semblance of peace, but a minister shooed us away like stray dogs. “This is no place for children,” he snapped, not even asking our names before dismissing us.
