I bolted upright, every nerve screaming danger, careful not to jostle Yoshi awake.
In the corner where the darkness pooled deepest, where even the moonlight through the window couldn’t reach, something shifted. A figure stepped forward, black-clad from head to toe, only dark eyes visible through wrappings.
How the hells—?
Had they been there the entire time?
During Esumi’s visit?
While Yoshi and I talked?
My heart hammered so loudly I was certain the guards outside would hear it, but I didn’t cry out. The shadows had found me, here in the Emperor’s own palace, in chambers that should have been safer than any fortress—near where they had found Emperor Takashi poisoned not long ago.
I’d known they would come eventually.
The black cranes had been warnings, preparations.
Now, with the Empire readying for war, they’d decided it was time?
I glanced at Yoshi, still asleep and vulnerable. If I called for guards or fought, he’d wake. He would see. He would know everything.
The figure raised a single finger to its lips in a gesture of silence, then beckoned me closer with its other hand. Despite every instinct to wake Yoshi, to call for help, to fight or resist or dosomething, I pushed up from our mat and stepped into the shadows.
Part III
Chapter 20
Asami Eiko
Maps sprawled before me like corpses awaiting dissection, daggers thrust through villages we’d already burned. Yubi. Kishima. Tanaka. Yubi was a prize, but the others were insignificant victories, hollow satisfactions, the kind of scraps that kept soldiers fed but left generals starving.
I wanted Bara.
Nothing mattered but the capital.
My fingers drummed against the throne’s armrest. Toshi Daiki’s seat had been comfortable once, I supposed, before I’d painted it with his blood. Now it bore my weight, my fury, and my impatience poorly disguised as regal stillness.
“Our scouts report the eastern villages have surrendered without resistance,Daimyo.” General Tanaka’s voice droned like a monk at prayer, steady and lifeless. He gestured to the map with the confidence of a man who’d never felt a blade kiss his throat. “We suffered no casualties. The granaries are ours, and—”
“And the capital?” I cut through his recitation like an axe through kindling. “What of our preparations to besiege Bara?”
Silence.
Around the table, my war council exchanged the careful glances of men who knew the wrong answer might cost them their tongues. Twelve faces, some scarred, some soft, all wearing expressions of studied neutrality.
Only my daughter met my eyes directly.
Katsumi stood in her blood-red armor, one hand resting on herkatana’shilt with the casual readiness of a woman who knew exactly how fast she could draw. At eighteen, she already commanded respect that took most men decades to earn. She’d inherited my height, her father’s lean build, and my talent for seeing through courtly muck.
She was magnificent.
And in that moment, she looked like she was preparing to contradict me.
“The passes are closed, Mother.” Her voice carried across the room without rising, trained to command attention rather than demand it. “The first snows came early this year. Our scouts report the spine is already impassable. Even messengers are not able to get through.”
“Then we find another route.” I leaned forward, feeling the throne creak beneath the shift in my weight. Gods, even the furniture in this place was weak. “We have fifteen thousand troops sitting idle while Bara crowns a new emperor and consolidates power. Every day we wait is another day they prepare.”
“Every day we wait is another day our men don’t freeze to death in mountain passes.” Katsumi’s tone remained respectful, but steel undergirded every word. “General Kitaro, what is the latest from the scouts?”
