She closed her eyes and prepared to count her paces. Eight steps to the left. Three steps into a corner encased by darkness, where she could crouch unseen. It would be simple to keep track of where she moved. From the beginning, Mariko had known that—if she was going to help Ōkami escape—she would need to move about freely without carrying a source of light that could catch unwanted attention.
As she began to turn left by the stack of discarded charcoal, a hand shot from the shadows and gripped her by the arm, thrusting her into the inky space beneath the stairs.
She almost squealed. Then immediately fought back. Her fists connected with a broad male chest. A man who smelled suspiciously of sake. It did not matter. Mariko leveled a kick at her assailant’s shins, then twisted her wrist in an attempt to break free. She angled her elbow—the hardest part of her body—and positioned it to slam in his face.
Grunting, the man grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her arm behind her back. Mariko refused to cry out at first. But he applied more pressure, until she relented with a gasp.
They both froze beneath the stairs until the man with the torch—the one who’d caught Mariko’s attention mere moments before—descended, the dust of his heavy footsteps powdering their hair. His gait was hefty, his movements purposeful. Undoubtedly a soldier. The man paused at the bottom of the staircase and then proceeded down the corridor toward Ōkami’s cell. As soon as he was out of earshot, Mariko attempted to break free again. Her assailant tightened his grip, almost to the point of pain.
“How dare you?” Mariko whispered, her voice sounding tinny and ineffectual.
Her assailant shoved her forward, relinquishing his hold on her arms. “How dare I?” He spat the last word.
Kenshin.
Mariko whirled in place. “You’re following me? Were you following me last night, too?”
“You’re fortunate I did,” Kenshin rasped back. “If I hadn’t, you would have been caught. An imperial patrol was only steps away from finding you. I’m following you now to make sure nothing else happens to you.”
She pushed him. He did not budge. Kenshin always held himself like a stone. “Why?” Mariko demanded. “Why would you … help me?”
“Because you’re as big a fool as Father always said you were.” Her brother spoke in hushed tones, each of his words sharp. “And because … I can’t bear to lose you.”
Elevated voices emanated from the darkness beyond, near Ōkami’s cell. Kenshin stared at her, his eyes glittering with feeling. They remained silent. Not even a breath could be heard between them, but her brother’s anguish felt alive, as though it had taken on its own form. They waited until the voices in the distance dropped, becoming indistinguishable once more. Until sounds of a skirmish wound through the space.
They were beating Ōkami again. Simply for sport.
Mariko closed her eyes, taking note of every blow. Shuddering as though they’d been delivered to her. Now that her brother had discovered her truth, she no longer needed to conceal her feelings. When Ōkami finally cried out, Mariko turned in place to hide a rush of hot tears, knowing that the sound of his suffering likely saved them from being discovered. Again Ōkami helped her, even when he did not know it.
“You’re going to be caught,” Kenshin said softly.
Mariko composed herself, brushing away her brimming tears. “No, I’m not.”
“Takeda Ranmaru could be killed at any moment. He’s been beaten enough to die, but still he clings stubbornly to life. The boy could be executed tomorrow.” Kenshin paused. “Why risk yourself for him?”
“He won’t be executed tomorrow,” Mariko said, facing Kenshin. “He’ll be executed after my wedding.”
Her brother’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“I told Raiden I didn’t want a spectacle to be made of his death. I didn’t want his followers making him a martyr to their cause. So I asked Raiden to instead end his life quietly on the evening of our wedding day, when the attention of the public would be absorbed in more joyous festivities.” Mariko glared through the darkness, trying not to flinch at the unending blows. “Ōkami will be spared until then.”
“And then what do you intend to do?”
Mariko did not respond.
Kenshin continued. “Why are you here? Why have you come here for the past few nights, if not to see him?”
Again no response.
At that, Kenshin gripped Mariko by the wrist. Grim acceptance lined his features. When he grasped the hanging fabric of her sleeve, his touch turned rough.
“If you’re going to dress as a man, be prepared to be treated as one.” Kenshin pushed her into the rough stone wall at her back as he searched her sleeves, like he would a thief’s. When he found nothing, he patted Mariko’s sides until he found the pouch she’d concealed in her kosode.
Her cheeks aflame with indignation, Mariko reacted without thought. The blow she leveled at her brother’s face caught him by surprise. He stumbled back, his eyes wide.
“If you wanted to know if I had hidden something, you should have asked.” Mariko ripped the small pouch from beneath her kosode and dropped it at Kenshin’s feet. She fought to conceal the despair clawing at her stomach, knowing how desperately Ōkami needed to escape, and how difficult it would be to remake the crystals and pilfer another set of firestones.
Anger blazed across Kenshin’s face. For an instant, Mariko thought he might strike back at her, but his expression turned cool and distant, just as it had every other time they’d spoken since arriving in Inako. “Return to your room, Mariko.”
Rage mingled with her despair. The tears threatened to fall in earnest. “There is a special place in Yomi for those who fail their families.”
“And there is a special place in Yomi for those who lie to theirs.”
Mariko kept silent, her chin quivering.
Her brother’s features turned forbidding. “Don’t return to this part of the castle. There is nothing for you here. You risk your life with this behavior, and I won’t save you again. You don’t deserve to be saved. What you’ve done rejects everything you’ve been raised to be. It is an insult to our family. Would you have us—our mother, our father—all perish for your childish notion of love?” Kenshin asked in a harsh whisper.
Just as he finished speaking, the blows and the taunting echoing from beyond the corridor ceased as abruptly as they had begun. Mariko and Kenshin stared at each other, one imploring through the silence, the other fighting through her tears.
Mariko’s fists balled at her sides. “I would rather die for love than stand by and watch my love perish.”
At that, Kenshin raised a hand to strike her. Mariko did not flinch. He caught himself just before his hand connected with his sister’s face. Shaking, he pulled back. Detached. Nothing could mar the coolness of his affect. It was as though Kenshin had been carved from an ancient tree. “I will make sure guards are posted outside your chamber from now on.”
Lines of anguish collected around Mariko’s features. Hot tears coursed down her cheeks as she spun away from her brother. Away from this last—most precious—chance.
Kenshin waited until Mariko was out of sight.
He stood in the shadows and let the stabbing pain inside him fade with each of his breaths. Amaya’s smile beckoned to him. Her laughter echoed in his ears, his failure searing through his memories. Mariko did not know what had happened to Amaya. She’d been ignorant of what Kenshin had done. What he’d failed to do. And still it was as though it were written in black ink across his forehead.
In silence, Kenshin unwrapped the package Mariko had hidden away to deliver to the son of Takeda Shingen. The boy she loved. Kenshin had thought it might contain a key, or maybe some form of nourishment. It would be all but impossible for Mariko to pilfer a key, since the only two keys in existence belonged to the emperor and his elder brother. But if anyone could purloin an item not meant for her use, it would be Mariko.
Inside the pouch he discovered pale grey crystals, not unlike the kind collected from the salt flats. He’d come across something similar in a faraway desert by the Sendai river when his family had traveled there years ago. Beside these crystals was a small piece of waxen paper and two firestones.