Descendant of the Crane(17)
“You don’t have to be that honest,” muttered Hesina.
“Sorry. That sounded better in my head.”
“So is that the truth? You’re here to spectate?”
“And help, I suppose.”
“You suppose!” She stepped on his heel, and he stumbled.
“To help!” He caught himself, then glanced at her over his shoulder. “To help.”
In the dim light, his eyes were like pools of rainwater, reflecting more than they revealed. But they also were clouded with woe, an expression contradictory to the amusement curling at his lips. Someone with eyes like that could have smiled as they bled. Hesina was suddenly overcome with remorse. She wanted to apologize for tripping him, but he turned those eyes and that smile away, facing back around. “Though truth be told, I’m more used to harming than helping.”
What he was used to didn’t matter. She could tear out his past as a criminal. She would embroider in a new identity, a motivation.
“Let me tell you what you’re in this for,” she said as they came to his block of cells. “You’re a scholar. Your lifelong dream has been to serve the kingdom. But you’ve had a dreadfully disadvantaged upbringing compared to your peers—”
“It wasn’t so bad.”
“—and winning this case is your one chance of making it to the civil service examinations.”
The convict rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I see.”
“Who are you?” Hesina demanded, quizzing like a tutor.
“A scholar.”
“What do you aspire to be?”
“A civil servant.”
She nodded in approval, but the convict appeared troubled.
“Er, what am I studying? As a scholar?”
“You’re studying…” She thought back to all her imperial lessons and picked the topic she’d hated least. “Agriculture.”
“Agriculture.”
“Yes.” She would have her books delivered to him. She would train him herself on the specifics of sheep pedigrees and soybean rotations.
“Can I suggest something else?” he asked as they stopped in front of his cell.
He was rejecting her idea. She found that almost more offensive than when he’d stolen her key.
On the thought of the key…
“You said the king was poisoned,” said the convict as Hesina reached for his hand. She missed him by a second; their knuckles brushed as he raised the key to the cell padlock. Something in Hesina came briefly undone, just like the lock.
He entered the cell and relocked it from the inside.
“How about I study something related to poison,” he said, returning the key through the bars. “Like medicine.”
She tried to avoid skin contact as she accepted her key. “Fine. Medicine. You’ll receive a pardon once a trial is declared.” She didn’t quite trust him enough to release him now.
He nodded as if he completely understood.
“Until then…” Hesina didn’t know what to say. Her father’s justice was in the convict’s hands. It made her vulnerable. Desperate. She forced herself back from the bars. “Who are you?”
“A scholar—”
“No. Your name.”
“I have many.”
“Which do you prefer?”
The convict ran his teeth over his bottom lip, deciding. “Akira,” he finally said.
“Akira.” Hesina memorized it, then turned away, disarmed but not defeated. “We’ll meet again in court.”
SIX
A RULER WHO ABANDONS HIS PEOPLE IS NO RULER AT ALL.
ONE OF THE ELEVEN ON MONARCHS
DRESS SIMPLY. EAT SIMPLER. WE WERE ALL COMMONERS ONCE.
TWO OF THE ELEVEN ON MONARCHS
Many gifts came overnight, well wishes for her coronation. Many more would arrive before the day’s end. But the thing Hesina wanted most was in her hand.
MEMORANDUM OF THE INVESTIGATION BUREAU
ON THE FIRST DAY OF THE 10TH MONTH, YEAR
305 OF THE NEW ERA,
AFTER 2 DAYS OF REVIEW,
UNDER THE SUPERVISION OF THE DIRECTOR,
THE BUREAU HAS DEEMED THE FOLLOWING CASE OF
{ THE KING’S MURDER }
SUFFICIENT IN EVIDENCE AND IN SUSPECTS.
MAY JUSTICE BE DELIVERED IN COURT.
“Shall it be posted?” asked her page.
“Not yet.” She reread the memorandum, marveling at the words. They were real. They were so real they bled, the fresh ink imprinting on her hands. Hesina finally put the document aside, placing it among the new maps, books, brushes, and scales covering her desk, offerings from ministers and officials of her court.
Tonight. It hit her again, a punch to the gut, that her coronation was tonight. Two days ago, she’d been begging for her mother’s blessing. Unlike her mother’s blessing, the memorandum had arrived quicker than she’d expected. Timely, too, since tonight she was to issue her first decree, a document to set the tone of her reign. What could be more fitting than announcing the trial? Tonight suddenly felt too far away.
Hesina wrote her first decree. Then she wrote her first pardon and handed it to her page along with a small pouch of money, enough for a few nights’ lodging in the city.