Bloodline, 7/10
Restoring the fountain had likely tired Satoshi more than he’d let on the other night. He made no appearances on the rooftop, no matter what hour Nino glanced up from his courtyard, hoping for the sight of bare feet.
He devoted his time to the library and Raku’s scrolls, sitting at the table desperate to understand what had been written. Much of what he was finding now had symbols on them, occasionally a translation into the common tongue beside them. But the ink had faded in so many places. He wondered if he could find a way to sneak things to Masaki - even if the god couldn’t speak or write his language, perhaps he could answer Nino’s questions.
But that was for another day.
Mirei came hurrying into the sitting room without her usual knock after dark one night, and Nino nearly toppled the lantern he and Sho were using to read.
“Prince Jun is coming. I’ll try and delay him.”
“Sho, quickly,” Nino hissed, and they gathered up their contraband, Sho hurrying into the other room to hide it.
Mirei fled to stand outside the door, to do her utmost to delay the prince’s arrival. Nino got to his feet, making sure nothing of their secret work might be visible. But he soon discovered that Jun wasn’t coming to uncover his secrets.
He heard Mirei’s protests at the door, and he went to it himself, opening it before Jun said or did something rude. “Thank you, Mirei. Good evening, brother. What has you so out of breath tonight?”
He was rather surprised at the sight of his brother. There was none of his usual calm, none of his arrogance or swagger. Something was wrong.
“Let me inside.”
“Typically you have to ask permission, especially when someone is older than you. Let me help. ‘Kazunari, my dear brother. Will you grant me the honor of…’”
Jun shoved his way inside. “I don’t have time for this.”
Nino followed him in, closing the door quickly so nobody in the hall might overhear. Sho was already on the floor, head bowed, but Jun apparently didn’t have time for that show of deference either. He reached for Sho’s robes, yanking him to his feet. Nino didn’t even have a moment to protest before Jun had hauled Sho across the room, slamming him back against the wall, rattling the artwork.
Jun’s arm was across Sho’s throat, his voice menacing.
“One of them was turned,” Jun growled in Sho’s face. “I know you trained them all. Which one was it?”
Nino approached cautiously, not daring to raise his voice. He held up his hands in a defensive posture. “Let him go.”
“Which one was it?” Jun pressed, and Sho’s eyes went wide as he shook his head.
“He can’t answer your question if you choke him.”
Jun eased up a little, but didn’t let Sho go. But Nino was confused by the tears in Jun’s eyes. He was showing weakness. Almost too much. Something was very wrong here, and apparently only Sho had an answer.
“I’ve been in here with him the whole night, Jun,” Sho said, looking Jun straight on, using his name in a tone so informal Nino wondered if he’d been deceived all this time. By both of them. “If something has happened, we haven’t been told about it.”
“That witch has had my mother arrested,” Jun explained, voice shaking. “Evidence was planted in her apartments. The King’s schedule, the King’s dinner menus. She’s made it look like my mother was plotting assassination, poisoning.”
Sho lifted his hand, wrapping it around Jun’s forearm. Neither of them looked away from one another’s face. Nino watched carefully, barely remembering to breathe. He watched as Sho gave Jun’s arm a tug, forcing him to back off.
Who was this Sakurai Sho? Where had he been hiding all this time?
“I had nothing to do with this.”
“You’d already be dead by my hand if that were the case,” Jun insisted, finally stepping back and pacing the floor.
Nino was exasperated. “Would someone like to loop me in on the conversation here? You’re saying Princess Mariya has been arrested?”
“For treason,” Jun choked out.
“And Sho here might know something about it?”
Sho shook his head, rubbing at his throat with irritation in his eyes. “I don’t know anything about the planting of evidence. It’s not our doing.”
“Our doing?” Nino cried out.
Sho watched Jun carefully. “Your mother, like your father, was always kind to me. Even if Kazunari had asked me to target her, I would have dissuaded him.”
“For the love of…” He threw his hands in the air. “I’m not in the business of plotting against people’s mothers!”
Clearly exhausted, Jun sat down heavily on the floor. Nino did the absolute least, picking up a cushion and flinging it at him. Jun took the cold gesture in stride, hugging it against his chest.
“Princess Mariya’s household was always under the purview of Prince Yukio’s,” Sho explained calmly, fingers still lingering on his neck. “The Prince, may the Gods favor him, wanted total control over who served her.”
“He spied on her,” Jun grumbled. “From the day he married her until the day he had a heart attack and died on top of some teenage scullery maid. The asshole spied on her, and Sho saw it done.”
To Nino’s dismay, Sho didn’t deny it. “The Princess is from the West Kingdom, and Prince Yukio did not want there to be any outside influences. It was part of my job as Prince Yukio’s advisor…”
“Advisor, he calls himself,” Jun retorted.
“It was part of my job the last few years,” Sho continued, “to vet new candidates for service in her household. The women who dress her, the cooks who make her meals, the girl who empties her chamber pot. Prince Yukio wanted loyalty.”
“And now one of them turned on her. That witch got to someone. Now that my father isn’t here to make her life a living hell, Rumiko has stepped in. She’s wanted my mother dead for decades,” Jun said. “Now she’ll get her way.”
Sho exhaled. “It’s a bold move, even for her.”
“She has him now, Sho,” Jun said, pointing at Nino like he was just another object in the room. “I thought she’d use him to come after me. Grandfather wouldn’t mourn if I was found face down in a pool of water or at the bottom of a stairwell with a broken neck, no matter how suspicious. Hell, she still might be ambitious enough to try it.” Jun shook his head. “But not my mother. I won’t allow her to hurt my mother.”
At last, Nino had gained some insight into his brother’s character. Jun might have revolted years ago, might have protested his mistreatment. The lack of respect from his father and grandfather alike. But he hadn’t done it. He’d played the fool. He’d kept his place at court.
All along he’d been fighting to protect his mother. Nino understood that feeling all too well.
Sho finally sat down to Jun’s left, folding his hands and resting them on the table. “I am sorry, Jun. Truly I am.”
“I don’t want your useless apologies. I want your solutions.” Jun’s scowl was rather frightening, but Sho wasn’t afraid of it tonight. “You were the smart one. Father always liked to remind me.”
There was a lot of history between the two men seated at Nino’s table, and he didn’t have the desire to unpack any of it. Not now. Not when an innocent woman’s life was in danger. Nino hadn’t met Princess Mariya. Given the circumstances of Nino’s birth and how her son had been treated all these years, he doubted that the Princess would like him very much. But that didn’t really matter.
The darkest reaches of his mind saw this night as a turning point. As an opportunity. He suspected that Sho could see it too. Sho, who wasn’t as high-minded and admirable as Nino had been naive enough to believe all this time.
If they helped Jun, helped Princess Mariya, then perhaps Jun would help Nino in return. It was a cruel thought, but a realistic one. And given the politics that ruled the Royal Palace of Amaterasu, Jun likely knew already that Nino would want a favor in exchange for his assistance.
Sho cleared his throat. “Your mother is a foreigner,” he said. “And we’ve always had friendly enough trade relations with the West Kingdom. If they get word that she’s been harmed, the king risks retaliation. It’s a guarantee if the Sorceress finds a way to have her executed.”
Jun scoffed. “And you think the old man wouldn’t welcome a war? Half the royal treasury goes toward the upkeep of the Kingsguard.”
Nino hadn’t known that, and he let it sink in.
“The mourning period works in your mother’s favor,” Sho pointed out. “Even I’ve got another month yet to live.”
Quiet descended over the room at the reminder. Nino watched Jun search for a response, but he didn’t seem to have one. Neither did Nino for that matter.
“So,” Sho continued anyway, “even if Rumiko has had her arrested, the king will not put a princess in a dungeon. I know he’s never much liked her, but the court would protest. Your mother has made a lot of friends with her patronage and gifts over the years. The king would rather risk war with our neighbors than risk the court turning on him. Especially with Nino having the power that he does.”
Jun’s jaw dropped, and he hurried to recover. “I’m sorry, what did you call him?”
“He called me Nino,” he interjected. “As I’ve instructed him.”
Jun held up a hand. “Remind me to be annoyed with that later. So what do you propose?”
“It’s likely the king will put your mother under house arrest while an investigation is conducted,” Sho explained. “All of her servants will be removed from her apartments so they can be questioned. They may all be ousted from the palace, I have no idea. But that leaves a princess without a lady’s maid, and anyone at court will find it insulting, even if your mother’s being investigated for treason. Nino’s maid Mirei is trustworthy and discreet. It’s my suggestion that Mirei is sent to your mother to serve her for the time being.”
Jun raised an eyebrow. “That’s a calculated risk, Sho.”
To Nino’s surprise, Sho smiled back at Jun. They’d known each other a long time.
“A bit heavy-handed, no?” Sho teased. “But it will be made clear to the court and to the king and Rumiko that Nino is on your side. Or at least that he’s on your mother’s side.”
“Brotherly love,” Nino mused, drumming his fingers on the tabletop.
“And how do we clear my mother’s name?” Jun asked. “I know a servant has been turned against her, but how do we know which one betrayed her?”
“We spy on them, see who has been coming and going from Rumiko’s chambers,” Sho said.
“Sure,” Jun complained, “and how do we manage that?”
Sho looked to Nino reluctantly.
“We work with some rather uncommon spies.”
-
Come morning, nearly everything Sho had described came to pass. He knew the ins and outs of the Amaterasu court like the back of his hand. Princess Mariya was allowed to remain in her apartments, but everyone who served her from her seamstress to the man who held a parasol over her when she walked in the gardens had been ousted.
They’d been removed from the palace entirely, sent to lonely cells in the Kingsguard’s barracks. One by one, the plan was to have each servant brought before the king for an interrogation. Nino presumed that Rumiko would find her way into those closed sessions in the royal audience chamber since she was the one who’d brought the charge of treason against the princess.
By the afternoon, Nino had already met with Masaki in his sitting room, Sho beside him providing the details that Nino didn’t have. They needed someone in that audience chamber, someone that could watch Rumiko, watch her body language as each servant was questioned. After so many years at court, Masaki was a keen study of human behavior. And he’d be hiding in plain sight. What did the son of the God of the Waters care what happened to Princess Mariya? What incentive did he have for acting against the royal interest?
Nino had spent half their meeting apologizing, almost groveling. He didn’t want it to seem like an order. He didn’t want Masaki to feel as though he had no choice but to help. To Nino’s surprise, Masaki wanted to do his part, no matter the risk involved.
For many years, Jun had asked for Masaki to be brought to his chambers to recover after being overworked by his father or grandfather. But it had always been at the insistence of his mother. Satoshi, too, had been invited, but he’d never wanted their pity. Masaki was fond of the older woman, had been largely disappointed in the way Yukio had treated her.
“The West Kingdom fears the gods,” Masaki had explained. “Because of it, she has always treated me with respect.”
Nino couldn’t help wondering if Princess Mariya’s prayers were what had kept Jun from manifesting the powers of his bloodline, kept him from being able to inflict cruelties on Masaki and Satoshi.
As night fell, they had two confirmed spies in their camp, a divine one, as well as Mirei in the Princess’ empty household. Nino hadn’t had much trouble convincing her to help either. Before she’d been ordered to serve as maid for the mysterious, illegitimate Kazunari from the desert, Mirei had longed to serve at the beck and call of the still beautiful Princess from the West Kingdom, who had gone years without having a servant beaten. A rarity in the royal palace, Nino was informed, his mood darkening.
That left their other potential spy, though Nino doubted this conversation would go as well for him as the others had.
He made his familiar climb to the roof, finding Satoshi in his usual spot. If he’d been here a while, listening in, then it was likely he already knew what Nino was coming to ask him. But knowing Satoshi, he’d never be the one to bring it up.
Nino sat down. “Good evening, Satoshi.”
There was no pause this time.
“Good evening, Your Highness.”
He smirked. “Your brother at least calls me by my name. I don’t know when I’ll break him from calling me by my full name every single time, but I suppose I’ll take what I can get.”
“You don’t like your title?”
Nino chuckled. “It’s not really been formalized anyway. I may be Yukio’s son, but the king has made no move to grant me any official role or title here at court.”
“Sakurai Sho addresses you informally.”
“Sakurai Sho is my friend.”
Satoshi let out a derisive scoff. “Sakurai Sho is your servant.”
Nino nodded in acknowledgment. “Both of those things are true.”
They sat in a companionable silence for a while. Nino couldn’t help watching Satoshi from the corner of his eye, that forlorn gaze of his, that frown as he stared up at the sky, toward the east and home. He’d been in the Sun Kingdom far longer than he’d ever been in the Undersea Palace, but there was likely no comparison. Home was home, whether you were a god who lived under the waves or a man who traveled the sands with a patchwork tent.
“I don’t want to waste your time, so let me get straight to the point,” Nino said quietly.
He explained the situation with the princess, how Jun had come to him for help. He told Satoshi that Masaki already planned to help.
“I just thought I would ask if you’ve heard or seen anything. I never know how long you stay up here, what you might notice that nobody else could…” He cleared his throat. “And if you wished to do more to help, then that would be a kindness. It’s not an order, it’s not a demand.”
“You’re only helping Prince Jun because you want him in your debt.”
He nodded. “I will admit that it factored into my decision, yes. I have no intention to lie to you about my motives. I owe you that.”
Satoshi let out another of his quiet chuckles. “You are the first in your bloodline to feel as though they owed me anything. It’s a strange sensation.”
“I cannot take on Rumiko and the king alone. Even if I somehow find a way to free you and Masaki, they won’t go quietly. Is it wrong to seek allies wherever I can find them?”
Satoshi shook his head. “You have the Matsumoto ambition.”
“More like the Terajima Kazuko pragmatism.” He laughed. “My mother.”
“I know,” Satoshi said.
He looked over, surprised. “You’ve been here for hundreds of years. You’ve seen servants and kings come and go constantly. You actually remember my mother?”
“You look like her,” Satoshi continued. “When you first came here, I thought you looked familiar. When I heard that you were Prince Yukio’s son, I just had to think back to the women he…” He shrugged. “I have no reason to be rude about it.”
Perhaps Satoshi had witnessed the affair or at least heard of it. The thought made Nino a little uneasy. Even though the god sitting beside him didn’t look much older than him, he had been here several lifetimes. Sometimes Nino forgot that most obvious of things about Satoshi.
“Well,” Nino continued awkwardly, “there’s no need to have an answer tonight. It is a risky thing I ask of you.”
“You know for a certainty that Sorceress Rumiko is responsible for what has happened?”
“She’s the one who brought the charges against the Princess, but we have no proof this was entirely her scheme. We’ll be watching her carefully, but no other faction at court really gains from the Princess being in trouble. Rumiko cares more about eliminating an enemy than about the fallout of her actions. But if we can’t find evidence that she’s framed the Princess…”
“I will tell you what I observe,” Satoshi said.
Nino was shocked by the quick response. “Wait. Really?”
Satoshi nodded. “I’m the reason she has that suppression bangle around her ankle. It’s imprinted on the inside with one word from my language. In translation it means ‘cease.’”
Nino said nothing, still surprised that Satoshi was willing to open up, to talk more about himself.
“I saw to it that four people were drowned because she considered them rivals. I have many hateful memories of this kingdom, but those surrounding her seem to trump them all.”
“I’m sorry.”
“They were tied up and dropped to the bottom of a well. Servants. Innocents. She’s always seen rivals where there were none. Many of them were likely dying already from the fall,” Satoshi admitted, voice far less steady than usual. “I didn’t realize what my role in it was until I saw the first of them float to the top.”
Nino reached over, resting a hand on Satoshi’s leg. The god’s body was so warm, full of life. “You don’t have to speak of it.”
“It was not the first time I’d been used that way. I suppose it’s just the freshest in my mind,” he said, shrugging. He had not yet objected to Nino’s hand on him.
“You told the king what she had you do?”
“One of her servants confessed first. The lover of one of the people I’d helped to murder.”
“Satoshi,” he whispered, “you didn’t knowingly…”
“When you order Masaki or me to do your will, we know it’s not done out of malice or spite on your part, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting. So don’t concern yourself with how I should feel about that incident.”
Nino took his hand back, chastened.
“And don’t say you’re sorry,” Satoshi continued, his voice steadier. “I’ve had so many apologies from you that I don’t think I can handle another.”
Nino looked down, grinning. “Am I at least allowed to thank you? Since you’ve so kindly agreed to help me despite my selfish motives?”
There was a bit more gentleness in Satoshi’s reply. “That…that I think I’ll allow.”
He laughed, covering his mouth to keep from waking anyone in the courtyards below. It was a true shame that Satoshi had been mistreated for so many years. It was clear that he was a kindhearted soul, a gentle soul. But also someone with a sense of humor.
“Then thank you very much.” He got to his feet. “It’s appreciated.”
Before he could walk away, he felt a gentle tug on his trouser leg. He looked down, seeing that Satoshi had reached out to grab hold of him.
“In exchange, I have a request for you. I wish to try the trick with the salt water.”
“The trick?”
Satoshi’s eyes were large, almost hopeful when he looked up at Nino. “Where you speak my language and somehow convince me that I’m home. It’s what you did for Masaki. I want to at least…try.”
He blushed, warmth running through his whole body, not just his tattooed arm. “Of course. Any time. After all, I’m just three floors down. You don’t need an appointment.”
“Thank you, Kazunari.”
He nodded. “Of course. Good night.”
Nino walked away half-dazed. He’d accomplished a great deal in the last few days, and tonight he’d somehow managed to turn the stubborn Satoshi to his side. The plan to exonerate Jun’s mother could move forward at full steam.
And yet none of that, nothing at all could compare to the way his name had sounded falling so gently from the lips of a handsome god.
-
They weren’t naive enough to believe that spying only worked in a single direction. Nino’s choice to openly ally with Jun by sending Mirei to the Princess clearly had Rumiko annoyed. Concerned with his loyalty.
He tried to keep up appearances, inviting his aunt to his rooms for a meal or for a walk in the gardens so he might learn more ways to strengthen his powers or perhaps discover new ones entirely. As the secret sessions in the king’s audience chamber continued, she kept finding excuses to decline.
But her presence was felt firmly everywhere.
There seemed to be more people in the palace library these days, some who would sit just outside watching him enter and watching him leave. It was likely that she had a spy among the staff as well, so he’d started rolling up and reshelving items himself, leaving only his deceptions out for them to find. He memorized useless facts from other scrolls, just in case someone pulled him aside to test him.
Without Mirei to keep them in check, he and Sho performed a few tests of their own on the other maids: Kanna and Natsuna and Kasumi. They couldn’t afford for any of them to be compromised. They left scraps of paper behind on the table in Nino’s sitting room or hinted at Nino’s schedule for the day in passing conversation. All three young women passed admirably. None of the scraps were moved, none of their (nonsense) contents divulged. And nobody suspicious confronted Nino, pretending to have encountered him by surprise. He’d been blessed with extraordinarily loyal people.
Princess Mariya, however, had not been so fortunate. Though Sho had hand-picked most of the Princess’ household, the death of Prince Yukio had left quite the vacuum. Coupled with Sho’s absence and Jun’s outward indifference, some among the staff had decided to make their allegiances flexible.
It took almost a week to make any progress, but the sons of the God of the Waters came through with results. Without Jun or Nino’s input, the two of them had banded together to determine the best plan of attack. Satoshi walked the palace grounds, all but invisible after so many years of purposefully isolating himself. He watched notes change hands between Princess Mariya’s imprisoned staff and a few members of the Kingsguard holding them, who then brought notes to Rumiko’s servants or boldly enough, to Rumiko herself. Satoshi then told his brother who to look out for during interrogations in the royal audience chamber.
Nino didn’t learn any of this until Masaki found him in the library again, providing him with a list of four names. Two had already been freed, cleared of suspicion during the interrogations with a little help from Rumiko. The other two had yet to be interviewed, but they had likely helped to plant evidence. Two maids, the kennel master who kept watch over the Princess’ small yapping dogs, and the teenaged orphan boy who often played shamisen during Princess Mariya’s frequent dinner parties.
“This is remarkable what you’ve found,” Nino said, hanging in the back of the room with Masaki, as far from the door (and the library staff) as he could manage.
Masaki seemed almost giddy. For once he’d been involved in a plot that sought to expose wrongdoing rather than perpetuate it. “You really ought to thank Satoshi. He did most of the work, telling me what he suspected. He was right in every case, my brother. These people will regret allying with that horrible woman.”
“Betraying their mistress won’t even be the worst charge,” Nino admitted. “If they admit to lying to the king during these interrogations, they will likely suffer.”
Masaki was quieter, letting out a soft sigh. “It would not be the first time I’ve seen such punishments carried out. Though I suspect they’ll wait until the mourning period is completed.”
The god flicked at the black ribbon Nino still had tied around his upper arm to keep up appearances. It was a reminder every day of the deadline still hanging over him. Time was running out regarding Sho’s execution.
“Yes, I suspect they will wait.”
He thanked Masaki again, urging him to go straight to Jun with the news.The information provided by Satoshi and Masaki would be his to use as he saw fit. It was only right that the son be allowed to protect and restore the reputation of his mother.
After a mostly fruitless search of scrolls that afternoon, Nino headed back for his rooms. At this hour, he usually expected the maids to arrive with a dinner tray. But when he entered, he found Satoshi already at the table in his sitting room, helping himself to a platter of buckwheat noodles. He had a noodle between his fingers, tugging it from the rest of the pile and slowly eating it.
“Oh please, do go right ahead and eat my dinner for me.”
Satoshi hadn’t looked up when he’d entered, but he had a wry smile on his face now when he did. “You’ve phrased that as an order, Kazunari. You know I have no choice but to obey you.”
It seemed like someone was in a strange mood tonight. Then again, this was the first time Satoshi had come to his rooms. Before they’d been more out in the open, whether in the palace gardens or on the roof. Or, Nino thought darkly, in the storage room with Rumiko and the Kingsguard.
He rolled his eyes, abandoning his sandals by the door and heading for his bedchamber. He had scraps of paper to add to the collection in the secret compartment of his room. The way Satoshi said his name had sent a pleasing shiver down his spine, but he hoped it went unnoticed. When he returned, dressed in more comfortable, loose-fitting clothing as opposed to his royal finery, he discovered that the maids had had food brought in for two.
Satoshi was using a pair of chopsticks to divide the noodles between two plates, a cup of dipping sauce split between them. Apparently the gods really could eat proper meals if they so chose.
“How long have you been sitting here waiting for me that Natsuna saw fit to bring you a portion?”
Satoshi settled some noodles in his cup, swishing them around. “Not so long.”
Nino sat, ceasing his needless arguments in favor of the meal. They sat quietly, punctuating silences with slurps of noodles and slow sips of the rice wine Nino often had paired with his dinners. It was an odd dinner indeed, sharing food with a god. He ate with Sho on many nights, keeping him away from the disappointing options the servants’ quarters likely offered. But this was very different.
Just like on the rooftop, Satoshi sat in a world of his own. He had nothing to say while he ate, just like he’d rarely had much to say while looking out to the eastern sky.
“I’ve missed you,” Nino admitted candidly. “I’ve missed your grumpy face.”
Satoshi had given more time to the spying mission than Nino had even anticipated. It had been a long week without their nighttime chats. But he shouldn’t have underestimated how far the god would go to uncover those who had pledged loyalty to the person he loathed the most.
He swallowed his food, finally offering Nino a nod. “I’ve missed your big mouth.”
Nino grinned.
After Natsuna cleared their empty trays, they sat at the table together. Nino poured, filling Satoshi’s small cup. “Do gods get drunk on human alcohol?”
“Gods whose bodies have been altered by their fathers do.”
He remembered what Masaki had told him, how he and his brother had been sent to Amaterasu in slightly different forms than they’d borne back home. “Hmm, interesting,” Nino said teasingly. “Do you have any other human weaknesses?”
“Masaki likes to gossip.”
“But of course you’re above such things.”
“Of course.”
They chatted and drank, though Nino as usual did most of the chatting. It was too easy to reminisce about the life he’d left behind, the caravan. He found himself telling Satoshi stories of Kazuko and Seitaro as well as some of the odd characters who’d followed the Water Finder from town to town.
Yusuke the carpenter born with extra fingers and toes, who used to scare a much younger Nino by wiggling those extra digits at the nightly campfire. Eiji, who’d given up a career as a scholar to tend the caravan’s camels. Saburo the well-digger with the giant mole on the tip of his fat nose. Aika the reformed prostitute who policed the caravan’s morality until Kazuko had finally asked her to part ways with them.
Sitting here in the center of this horrible palace, this horrible capital, Nino missed them all so much. He even missed Aika, just a little bit. It never took Nino long to feel the effects of rice wine, and he tried to slow himself down. One more drink, and he’d start to slur his words.
“Kazunari.”
He looked over, saw that Satoshi’s face was likely as flushed from the rice wine as his own was. “Hmm?”
“Wanna do the salt water trick?”
He chuckled. “It’s not a trick. It’s a command. We’ve just had a lovely meal. I don’t want to spoil it by controlling you…”
Satoshi ignored his concerns, pulling a fresh cup from the tray Natsuna had left behind. Without another word, Satoshi filled the cup with water, the first time Nino had seen him do so without being forced. He appeared to just think the water into existence.
It seemed that Satoshi was dead set on giving this a try, no matter the physical cost he might endure. “Very well,” he said, slowly getting to his feet. He headed to pull the cord on the wall, summoning Natsuna or whichever of the young women was on call at this hour. As they’d eaten together, as Nino had talked unceasingly about the strange and colorful characters of the caravan, hours had passed.
It was Kasumi who came to the door. Nino merely offered her a merry grin, saying only one word to her. “Salt.”
She returned in a few minutes with an entire bowl of it, and he laughed, dismissing her with a quick thank you. He turned back, showing off his acquisition. Satoshi merely slid the cup of water across the table, waiting for Nino to do his worst.
She’d brought him a spoon too, so he added a decent spoonful to Satoshi’s cup, mixing it as thoroughly as he could without having it all slosh out onto the table. “I’ve never been to the sea,” he admitted, “so I may not have the exact composition right.”
“I wish we could go there,” Satoshi mumbled. “Right now.”
He was warm, from both the alcohol and the idea that Satoshi wanted to spend time with him so willingly. From the start, Nino had all but forced himself into Satoshi’s life. The god had tolerated him for weeks, but now here they were, sitting together. Eating together. Drinking together. The activities of close friends, not of master and prisoner.
“I wish we could go there, too,” he admitted. “Leave all this chaos behind. But since I have made little progress in that regard, let me at least try to send you there in spirit.”
He removed the spoon from the glass, letting Satoshi bring it to his lips. His dark eyes were nervous but trusting, awaiting Nino’s command. He could see Satoshi trembling just the slightest bit.
To help, he leaned over, sitting closer so he could rest a hand on Satoshi’s shoulder. He found him sturdy, solid beneath his touch. Relaxed as much as he could.
“Satoshi,” he said quietly. “Drink of the far place.”
He watched as Satoshi closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before taking a sip of water. There was no reaction at first, until he felt Satoshi’s shoulder start to shake under his fingertips.
“Drink of the far place again.”
This time it wasn’t a sip. Satoshi gulped the water down, tilting his head back. When it was empty he shakily set the glass on the table. When he opened his eyes, they were wet with tears.
“Are you hurt?” Nino whispered.
“Yes. But not…” Satoshi winced, looking down. “Not like it normally does…”
Nino squeezed his shoulder, offering what comfort he could. He remembered Masaki’s reaction to the water all too well. “It made you think of home? Was it my words or more your own wishful thinking?”
Satoshi wiped at his eyes with the palm of his hand, sniffling, almost as though he was embarrassed to show such a vulnerable side. “Your words, my wish…I don’t know. Both? In all the time I’ve been here I’ve never…I don’t know…what you said was so simple and yet…”
“I want to do more to help you,” he admitted. “I’m so limited by the words that I’ve been taught.”
He tried to focus on breathing when Satoshi’s warm fingers moved to twine with his own, holding their hands together against his shoulder. “Then I should probably teach our language to you.”
Nino was confused. “But it’s forbidden. Masaki told me that was so.”
Satoshi met his gaze, dark hair falling across his brow. “You and Sakurai Sho sit here most nights and try to decipher what you’re reading. What you’ve snuck here from the library. I’ve been curious about it from the start. Even if I’m forbidden to speak my language, you are not. You’ve learned some words, you know some of the sounds. Well…” He pondered a moment, squeezing Nino’s fingers tightly. “Well…couldn’t you let me try and help? It may be slow going, but it’s better than you stumbling around a solution for forty years like your father.”
He nodded. “I’ll show you everything. Hold on.”
It almost ached to slip his hand away, his palm and fingers shaking as he moved to his bedchamber, hurrying to pull every scrap he had from his secret compartment. He returned, dumping what he had on the table. Satoshi had filled another glass with water.
“A bit less salt this time,” he ordered, taking the bits of paper and sorting through them. He was sobering up, issuing commands.
Nino grinned. “Yes, sir.”
They passed most of the night in this way. Satoshi examined the papers, spending most of his time concentrating on the characters Nino had copied from the scrolls that had not included a translation from Sorcerer Raku. It was agonizingly slow. Satoshi would tell him what the word meant in the common tongue, whether it was “tree” or “think” or “unwise” and Nino could only start with sounds.
He knew the sounds of the characters on his arm, the sounds of the few dozen words Rumiko had taught him. He had no choice but to sound out the syllables he knew one at a time, let Satoshi indicate if he’d said the right one. One syllable confirmed, they’d have to move to the next. It took them about thirty minutes per “translation,” with Nino often having to go through every sound or word fragment he already knew, waiting for Satoshi to nod that it was correct. And of course there were sounds in the language of the gods that Nino had yet to learn. As their energy flagged, Nino would instead allow Satoshi to fill a glass, then he’d add salt and tell Satoshi to drink of the far place. Whatever the taste, whatever the feelings that coursed through him, it encouraged Satoshi, made him work harder even with tears streaming down his gentle face.
Nino wasn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he woke on the floor beside the table, one of his cushions under his hip. He opened his eyes, blinking in the morning light.
He was alone.
The scraps were gone, and a note left behind on the table informed him that his secrets were safe. “I put them away,” the paper simply read, and Satoshi had likely left when Nino had fallen asleep.
In the hours they’d worked on the handful of characters and words he had copied from the library scrolls, Nino had only learned five new ones. And yet they were five new words, five new words he might recognize in other scrolls, five new words that might push him in the direction he needed to go. Satoshi had teased him for his accent, for some of his pronunciations, and yet they had made a good team.
It was a far cry from the first time they’d met, when Satoshi had looked upon him with justifiable contempt.
It wouldn’t take forty years, but it would still take time. It was best he got back to work as soon as he could.
Nino got up, stretching, hearing his joints crack. He had a bath to wake up both his body and mind, dressing for the day and eating a solid breakfast. He’d have to double, perhaps triple his efforts in the library. Instead of looking for the familiar in the scrolls, maybe he ought to especially look for the characters Raku had written without offering their translation. Perhaps within lay the words he could test, words he might try using to free the gods from their captivity.
He knew the wind blowing down mountains. He knew how to tell them to drink from the far place, to be reminded of the taste of the sea and their home. He needed darker words, angrier words. He needed words like blood and curse and trap.
Nino was halfway to the library when Takahashi found him in the halls, his face serious.
“The king wishes to speak with you, Your Highness.”
-
He was standing before the throne, King Kotaro watching him with merriment in his eyes.
“You seem rather surprised by this, my blood.”
Nino tried not to panic, merely shrugging. “I was under the impression that my brother was your heir. After all, I’m of illegitimate birth.”
“That’s all about to change,” the king said with his cruel smile.
Without so much as a “good morning,” Kotaro had called Nino to his private audience chamber and told him plainly what he’d just decided. In two months, Kotaro would be celebrating his ninetieth birthday.
However, the celebration would not so much be celebrating the king’s milestone birthday as it would be a passing of the torch. Matsumoto Kazunari would be officially recognized as Yukio’s eldest son and by implication, the true heir to the throne of the Sun Kingdom.
It was clear that Jun had not managed to meet with the king yet, to confront him with the evidence that Rumiko had framed Princess Mariya. If the princess was determined to be a traitor, it was quite possible her marriage to Yukio would be declared invalid, even all these years later. Nino had no doubts that the king and Rumiko would do what they could to further diminish Jun as an heir and make Nino’s claim seem all the more real.
But he knew that he couldn’t speak on Jun’s behalf. Knew that he couldn’t come forward with Rumiko’s treachery himself. The king was likely disappointed that Nino had sent Mirei to the princess, but if he learned that Nino and Jun had worked together, enlisting the gods in their mission, then who knew how the king might react?
“Prince Yukio, may the Gods favor him…”
“Enough of those empty sentiments! He was clearly favored by them, as he somehow managed to take time away from crying over the feckless peasantry to create you,” Kotaro interrupted. “You were a weakling when you arrived, Kazunari, and I’m not yet convinced that you have what it takes to keep this unruly, ungrateful kingdom afloat. But when I look at the options before me, what choice have I? A barren, scheming wretch of a daughter. A legitimate but useless grandson who has fucked his way through my court to beg for my attention. And I have you.”
He inclined his head. “You do have me, Your Majesty.”
“Have I not been generous to you, despite the circumstances of your birth? You were a Matsumoto no matter which slut’s womb you came from. By rights you were mine, you were my blood from the day she managed to trap my son’s seed inside her treacherous, conniving twat, but I left her alone. I left you alone. For the kingdom, I said. For the sake of my heir and the son of his officially sanctioned union.”
Nino could not, would not raise his head. Because if he did, the king would see how he truly felt. The king would see how his eyes burned with hatred as he insulted Kazuko, the greatest woman Nino would ever know.
“I’ve had you brought here. Allowed you to live in utmost comfort. I would see my investment pan out,” the king said. “You spend your days in relaxation, traipsing through my gardens or reading dry histories in my library. That comes to an end now.”
Nino held in a breath. Not now! Not now that he finally had some sense of forward momentum…
“You will leave those guest quarters behind, and I will house you in the palace near me. Yukio’s apartments have sat empty these months, and you will live there. You will have a proper household staff, not just a handful of girls to draw you a bath or suck your cock…”
He stared at the floor, panicking. Panicking, panicking.
“I may have failed with Yukio and with his wretched son, but I will not make the same mistake with you, Kazunari. You will attend all proper meetings of state. You will sit at my right hand in council meetings. You will become acquainted with the ministers that will serve you. And in exchange, you will succeed me.” He heard Kotaro lean forward in the chair. “The Sun Kingdom will be yours as surely as those beautiful markings on your arm make the gods yours.”
He did everything he could to school his expression, even as things were quickly falling apart around him. He’d have no time for the library, for his training with Satoshi. He’d have no time to coordinate with Jun, to convince him to help free the gods. There’d be new servants, more servants. And he doubted they’d be trustworthy. No, they’d report back to the king, Nino was certain of it.
“You honor me, Your Majesty.”
“Unlike your brother, at least you have the strength of character to realize it.”
“I am eager to prosper under your guidance,” he lied, hoping the king couldn’t hear the desperation that was taking him over inside. “But perhaps you might grant me a small favor.”
The king sounded annoyed. “I do all of this for your sake, and yet you require more, boy?”
He dared to narrow his eyes at his grandfather.
“My gratitude does not cancel out the fact that you need me to ensure this kingdom survives when you are gone. Jun has no power over the gods, and this magnificent place will become as dry and dead as the rest of the country.” Nino took a bold step forward, hands in fists. “You need me, Your Majesty, or Raku’s bloodline dies with you.”
Unlike most people, Kotaro seemed almost impressed by Nino’s threats. Of course, Nino knew the man was obsessed with his bloodline.
“Your small favor?”
He stepped back from his aggressive position, bringing his hands to his hips. “I will move to the rooms you set for me. I will attend meetings of state. I will learn more about the burden that will be mine when you are no longer here to guide me.” He took a quick breath, steeling himself. “All I ask is that Sakurai Sho remains my servant.”
The king let out a throaty laugh. “The traitor! You again beg clemency for it!”
“I do, Your Majesty. He has remained loyal and true these past months. It would be a waste to have him die.”
“I have let it draw breath for far longer than I should have. I would see the traitor disemboweled in my courtyard and take pleasure in the sight of it.”
Nino didn’t doubt that. The man was soulless, corrupt. He wasn’t sure how much was from the poison of the curse in his blood and how much was just inherent cruelty.
“Then we are at an impasse, Your Majesty,” he said coldly. “Where you see treason in him, I see valued counsel. Where you see an ‘it,’ I see a man who has devoted his life to serving this kingdom. I pray that my brother Jun has a child with the gifts of our bloodline, for it seems I will not be succeeding you, Grandfather.”
He turned his back on the king, and he heard the pathetic, sputtered cry.
“You have not been dismissed, Kazunari!”
He stopped, but did not look back. “I will have a horse prepared and my few personal items packed within the hour. You may send all the Kingsguard after me that you like, but I will not be taken back here alive. When they kill me, I hope they cut off my arm and send it back to you so you might look upon the tattoos I was given and be reminded until the day you die of how you wasted their potential.”
He was almost to the door when the king called his name again. Nino grinned before turning back. It had worked. To his surprise, Kotaro had gotten to his feet, though he was holding onto the arm of his chair desperately.
“I hope it betrays you, Kazunari,” the king declared. “You will look back, and you will regret this day when the traitor shifts allegiances. You may believe its counsel, but it has been seen in the shadows visiting your worthless brother’s chambers.”
Nino tried not to laugh at the insinuation. But he at least had confirmation that the king would more closely examine any movement between Nino’s rooms and Jun’s. They’d have to be more careful.
“You will be moved tomorrow. Takahashi will provide you with a schedule. I will see you molded into a king.”
“And Sakurai Sho?”
The king’s grip on his chair tightened.
“Keep it.”
Part Eight