Smoke in the Sun (Flame in the Mist #2)(13)
“Insults are indeed a base form of intimidation,” Roku replied, not seeming to care about the slight tossed his brother’s way in the process. “I agree they are the least effective in situations like this. But it is not often that I encounter a foe of a similar mind.” He gestured for the shadowy man holding the trunk to step forward. “And since we agree on these matters, there’s no need to waste time on such baser means of intimidation.”
ōkami did not balk. “I am not afraid of pain.”
The smile that spread across the emperor’s face began with an unnerving kind of sweetness. It widened into something wicked, tinging the air with an oddly saccharine scent. “But I am not talking about your pain, ōkami.”
For a moment, he was met once more with silence. Then ōkami leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You have nothing to gain from harming any of the men unfortunate enough to call me friend.”
“I will be the judge of that.” Roku resumed his pacing. “Any man unfortunate enough to call you friend would also be unfortunate enough to possess vital information.”
“What information?” ōkami laughed cuttingly. “Do you wish to know upon which rock I lay my head in the forest? Or perhaps it is important for you to learn how I prefer my tea.”
“Or maybe I wish to know how you enjoy your meals,” Roku said. “I’ve heard your cook was quite excellent—a relic of your father’s household, was he not? A shame I could not meet him. I’ve been searching for loyal servants. But, alas, I’ve heard this particular servant will be of service to no one.” A deliberate pause. “Ever again.”
This time, the silence that took shape around them was different. Weightier, a low hum gathering in the air. “It would not have made a difference if he were here,” ōkami said, his words dangerous in their control. “Yoshi would not have said anything to you.”
Roku lifted a finger to emphasize his point. “That may be true. But I am remiss. There is no need to resurrect dead cooks. We have in our possession—at this very moment—someone who could answer all these questions and more. Someone far more … pliant.”
“Ah, of course.” ōkami lowered his head, letting his hair veil his features once more. “The feckless daughter of Hattori Kano. This should prove amusing.”
Roku glanced his brother’s way. “Brother,” he began, “your bride lived alongside all these men, no?”
His expression souring, Raiden sheathed his blade. “My bride? I have no intention of taking that dirty sparrow to wi—”
“Nonsense.” The emperor whirled in place, the hem of his lustrous silk robe dragging through the grime. “We cannot go back on our word. Nor can we ignore the last wishes of our esteemed father.”
Raiden inhaled with distaste. “Even if the goods have been sullied beyond repair?”
Though he snorted in amusement, the chains near ōkami’s fists clanked softly.
“Hattori Mariko has sworn her loyalty to you and to our family, has she not?” Roku continued.
Raiden nodded, his features still dubious.
“Then,” Roku said as he locked eyes on his prisoner, “your union must go forward with all haste.”
“My sovereign,” Raiden replied, “perhaps we could—”
“I will not be challenged on this, brother. By anyone.” His nostrils flaring, Roku spoke over him, his reedy voice almost grating in its force. “There is only one way to know for certain if Lady Mariko retained her honor in Jukai forest.” A gleam alighted his gaze as he watched ōkami’s obsidian eyes flash. “Take her as your wife. And if she is indeed sullied—if she has lied to us—her punishment will be the slow death of a traitor.” He waited to see how his words hung in the air. Then the emperor met the stony face of his prisoner. “And the Dog of Jukai Forest will be there to bear witness to it.”
The Ashes of Loyalty
Escape.
And regicide.
They were notions ōkami had not entertained in a long while. While he received the newest blows dealt by Prince Raiden, he wondered to himself at the irony of it all.
That he would have come here. Willingly. Accepted this abuse. Willingly.
Any given night on the journey to Inako, ōkami could have escaped. Could still have escaped, if his chains had been but an arm’s length longer.
For many years, such a thing as escape had not been a cause of concern for him, because he’d always believed he would never surrender to anyone. The deal he’d made with a demon of darkness had ensured that no one could take him prisoner, so long as the night sky touched his skin. His power to move with the wind—faster than a flash of lightning—enabled him to vanish like a shadow in the sun, even in the direst of situations.
After witnessing his father’s grisly death as a child, ōkami had sworn to the heavens that he would die before allowing any man to possess that kind of power over him. The power to murder without consequence. The power to separate a man from all he loved and rob a young boy of all he’d ever known in one fell swoop.
This boyhood vow had been the reason ōkami had made his deal with a demon during the winter of his tenth year. He’d taken the demon’s blade of strange black rock and sworn his oath. Considered it well worth the cost to his well-being and to his future.