“I’m not ready for this,” I whispered into the darkness. “I’m not ready to be Emperor. I’m not ready to have gods speaking in my dreams. I’m not ready for any of it.”
“I know. Who would be?” Esumi pulled me against his chest, and I let myself collapse into his warmth. “But ready or not, it’s happening, so we face it together, like we always have.”
“Together,” I repeated.
Chapter 23
Kaneko
The audience hall stood empty, save for the three of us lounging in it like we owned the place. Which, technically, Haru did. Or would.
It felt surreal.
“I’m just saying,” Esumi was in the middle of explaining, “that if I have to bow one more time today, my spine is going to snap. How do people do this? The bowing and scraping and ‘yes, your highness’ and ‘of course, your grace’ every five minutes?”
“Practice,” Yoshi said from where he sat on the steps leading up to the dais. His posture was perfect despite his casual words. Apparently, years of noble training were hard to shake. “You learn to bow without thinking about it.”
“I think about it constantly, mostly about how much I hate it.”
I laughed despite myself. We’d been in the palace for only a few days, and the weight of protocol already felt crushing. Every step had rules. Every word had consequences. Even this moment—three friends killing time in an empty hall—felt vaguely illicit, like we were children playing in a place we shouldn’t even be in.
Haru was with the Grand Minister and other advisors planning funeral rites and discussing the succession crisis. He’d been in meetings almost constantly since we’d arrived, emerging only late at night looking exhausted and haunted. This afternoon he’d actually told us to “go find something to do” because he couldn’t stand us hovering in his quarters like worried nursemaids.
So here we were. Finding something to do. With nothing to do.
“Where is he anyway?” I asked. “I thought the meeting was supposed to end an hour ago.”
“The Grand Minister is probably lecturing him about proper Imperial dignity,” Esumi said, rolling his eyes. “That man could make breathing sound like a moral failing.”
“You shouldn’t talk about him like that,” Yoshi said through a wry smile. “He’s one of the most powerful men in the Empire.”
“He’s a pompous ass who treats Haru like he’s still twelve years old.”
“Well, Haru does act like he’s twelve sometimes.”
“Only because the alternative is acting like an emperor, and he’s not ready for that yet.” Esumi stood, stretching. “I’m not sure any of us are ready for what’s coming.”
The words hung in the air.
Because he was right.
In hours, Haru would be crowned Emperor. The rebellion would escalate. War would consume everything.
And we’d be expected to . . . what?
Support him? Fight for him? Die for him?
I pushed the thought away and stood, suddenly needing to move. The hall was magnificent in a way that made me uncomfortable. There was too much gold, too much silk, and toomuch space that existed solely to intimidate. The throne sat on its raised dais like a judgment, empty and waiting.
“You know what this room needs?” Esumi said suddenly, a dangerous gleam in his eye.
“Oh, gods. Please no,” Yoshi warned.
“A little irreverence.”
“Esumi, no—”
But he was already moving, climbing the steps to the dais with deliberate casualness. On a side table near the throne lay one of Haru’s formal robes—deep blue silk embroidered with gold dragons, the kind of thing that probably cost more than our entire homeland. Esumi picked it up, held it against himself, and grinned.
