Yatagarasu Series 8 - The Raven's Reminiscence - Part 1 - The Flower Festival

 

Yatagarasu Series

Volume 8: 

The Raven's Reminiscence

Author: Abe Chisato

Part 1:The Flower Festival

A new bamboo screen was lowered before the seat of honor, its green smell drifting faintly through the air. The screen was simple in design, freshly cut and gleaming with polish.

Yukiya knelt before the bamboo screen. Nothing beyond it was visible from this angle. He gasped involuntarily as his hands contacted the ice-cold floor.

“I am Yukiya of Hokke, one of the Yamauchishu,” he said, breaking the tense silence in the chamber. “Your Imperial Majesty the Empress, Your Imperial Highness the Princess, I have come to offer my felicitations for the new year.”

“Let us pray for the coming year to be an auspicious one,” Empress Hamayū said pleasantly. “May the Yatagarasu enjoy good health and prosperity. I expect that you shall devote all your effort to make it so.”

“This is such a happy occasion,” the child princess said from behind the bamboo screen. Her voice was clear and high, and every word was enunciated clearly. She’d been practicing formal speeches with her tutors for weeks.

“May the Yatagarasu enjoy good health and prosperity this year,” she said, copying her mother. “And may you perform your duties well under the aegis of the mountain god.”

“I thank you,” Yukiya said.

There was a brief silence.

“Is that enough?” the little princess asked in a voice that was almost a whisper.

“Yes, that’s fine for now,” Empress Hamayū said, the smile evident in her voice.

Yukiya allowed himself a nearly silent laugh and lifted his face without waiting for permission.

“Yuki!” the little princess cried out as she shoved aside the bamboo screen and ran to him at full speed, the hem of her dress lifted deftly in both fists and her train fanning out with a sound like running water.^ She had almost reached Yukiya when the weight of the garment caught up with her.

Yukiya lunged forward and caught her before she hit the floor.

“Please be careful. Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry. It’s been a long time since I wore clothes like this, so…” Her cheeks went red as she huffed out a breath. She looked up at Yukiya with her dark eyes and trembling lips, her long eyelashes casting shadows on her cheeks. She was solemn for her age: not yet eight, and she was already a tiny copy of her father’s manners and mannerisms.

Her father was Nazukihiko, the true Golden Raven and Emperor of Yamauchi. The princess had been born at Shion Temple at the neighboring Palace Above the Clouds, and she hadn’t come to the Imperial Court until this year. She was called Shion, the Princess of Shion Temple.

Yukiya had come to the Imperial Court to be Crown Prince Nazukihiko’s personal attendant when he was fourteen. That was more than fifteen years ago.

Shion stood still long enough for him to get a proper look at her. She was wearing an over-robe of deep purple decorated with a scattered floral pattern—chrysanthemums, he thought, though the weave of the cloth was fine enough that it was difficult to be certain. When he told her that she looked very nice today, she straightened her posture and offered him an elegant bow that her nurse had drilled into her over the course of many months.

“Thank you for your kind words. You also look splendid, Yuki.”

Yukiya shrugged. He hadn’t worn his formal attire for some time before this. Outside the Imperial Court, there was no need for it. He’d tamed his unruly hair into neatness that morning, combing it and settling it into a topknot. It had taken him more than a few minutes to find the formal court headband he almost never wore. A mostly decorative cuirass sat unfamiliarly across his shoulders.

He was about to describe the more antique pieces of his garb to the princess when Hamayū poked her head over the bamboo screen. Empress Hamayū was tall, and she had a commanding presence. Her black hair was set off by a gold ornament set with beads that made a faint tinkling sound when she turned her head. The deep purple of her long-sleeved robe was the shade of a thunderstorm sky.

“Do you have time to linger here?” Hamayū asked. “It’s about time for us to go, is it not?”

Hamayū was correct. Emperor Nazukihiko himself had given the order for Yukiya to fetch the empress and Shion to his presence in the Imperial Palace for the New Year’s celebration. It was customary for the empress to stand beside the emperor while a hundred prominent officials offered their well-wishes for the coming year. It was not customary for a princess to appear before the Imperial Court before her coming-of-age ceremony, but things were different this year. Yukiya wasn’t sure why yet.

Yukiya had arranged the security detail for Empress Hamayū and Princess Shion himself. The schedule was precise down to the minute.

“I will escort Her Imperial Majesty the Empress and Her Imperial Highness the Princess to the palace immediately,” Yukiya said.

“Very well. I trust that your preparations are adequate.” Empress Hamayū’s tone was light, but her expression was serious. She had spent years avoiding the Imperial Court, and once she was there, she and her daughter would be separated.

Yukiya held out his hand with great solemnity. “Shall we go?”

“Yes.”

The carriage yard held two enormous and nearly identical flying carriages. They were painted with shiny lacquer and their doors were adorned with stylized wisteria flowers blooming under the sun. Each carriage had eight horses lashed to them—four in front, four in back. Imperial attendants stood around them in their formal dress, their finery glittering in the cold light of the morning sun.

After the empress had boarded the carriage in the front, Yukiya climbed into the second carriage with the princess, settled her in front of him, and pressed her small hands firmly around the handrail.

“Are you scared?” Yukiya asked.

She shook her head. “I’m with you, Yuki,” she said with confident good cheer. Then she shifted a little in her seat. “That greeting earlier—was it okay? It felt weird.”

“You did very well. Formal language always sounds a bit weird, I think. The officials who hear Your Imperial Highness’s voice today will be surprised. And pleased.”

“I hope so…”

She had obviously practiced a great deal at Shion Temple, but there was a difference between practicing a thing and doing it before a hall full of officials.

“Today, I will remain by Your Imperial Highness’s side at all times,” Yukiya said.

The princess looked up at him with an expression of undisguised relief.

A guard’s flute sounded one loud, clear note: the signal for safety. The carriage creaked, swayed, and then lurched into motion. He heard the coachman call out. Wheels turned under them, smooth and quiet, and then the carriage lifted into the sky.

Yukiya unlatched the viewing window a fraction for the princess, who was already leaning toward it. The air that came in was as cold and sharp as needles. Shion pressed her face to the window.

The Palace Above the Clouds spread out in orderly grandeur below. The temples flanking the main two at the heart of the place were like guards protecting their master. The sloping roofs were all dusted white with snow. Mountain peaks loomed majestically as the morning sun rose over them.

Yamauchi, Yukiya thought. Home.

All the omens pointed to an auspicious new year, but that hoped-for year did not come to pass.

***

Shion had not yet been born when the battle against the Kuisaru was fought here in the Imperial Palace. That battle had taken place almost exactly a year before her birth. The Kuisaru—monkey-shaped monsters that consumed Yatagarasu flesh—had crossed into Yamauchi and invaded. The army that held them back, drove them out, and finally destroyed them to the last had been commanded by Yukiya. He had sent many of his comrades to their deaths. He had exposed civilians to danger. He had used people, even his friends. Some of what he had done in those terrible months could not be easily explained, and some of it could not be forgiven. Yukiya had made his peace with his actions years ago. His tactics had saved countless lives, and he did not regret using them.

He also had no illusions about himself or his capabilities. He had not successfully protected Yamauchi. Not really.

The Kuisaru had never intended to win. They had intended to end things for themselves and for the Yatagarasu. Hundreds of years ago, they had come to believe that the leader of the Yatagarasu had betrayed their own leader, and they had spent the time since patiently constructing their revenge. The war had never been the point.

The point had something to do with the mountain god. Yamauchi existed as a demesne created by the mountain god who dwelt in the sacred realm beyond Yamauchi’s Forbidden Gate. Without the mountain god’s power sustaining it, Yamauchi had no reason to exist at all.

By the time the last Kuisaru fell, the mountain god’s power—the power that preserved Yamauchi—had already declined beyond hope of recovery. The Yatagarasu had won the field and lost the war before the first blow was struck.

Yamauchi would eventually collapse into itself and disappear.

Yukiya had understood this while the people around him cheered the end of the war. No one knew precisely when Yamauchi would fall, or how, but it would definitely happen. There might be an earthquake, or an epidemic, or wide-scale barrier failure, or all of that at once. He didn’t know what to expect. No one did.

After the war, Nazukihiko had been formally enthroned as the Golden Raven. His father had stepped down and retired. Nazukihiko had wasted no time setting his policies. He was sick of infighting and imposed cooperation on the Imperial Court to meet the coming crisis head-on.

The Four Families—Hokke, Touke, Nanke, and Saike, each governing one of the territories that surrounded Souke—were historical enemies, so these policies were met with inevitable resistance. Faced with the actual end of everything, they had changed their historical attitudes, but not entirely. Souke Territory’s barrier magic was the strongest and the most stable, so infrastructure development was focused there. Food and water were stockpiled, roads were repaved, and physicians were trained and scattered throughout the territory. When the time came, the Yatagarasu would be well-placed to build a new city for the refugees that survived the coming disaster.

It was extraordinary what an unprecedented crisis could accomplish. Almost as extraordinary as the infighting that had brought the Yatagarasu to this crisis point in their existence.

Yukiya tightened his arms around the princess, who was watching the landscape scroll past the open window.

The nobles’ posturing had quieted down considerably once there was a genuine catastrophe to focus on. The princess had still ended up in Shion Temple for her own protection, but she would not be able to remain there much longer. She belonged in the Imperial Palace.

The morning light was dazzling; Yukiya shaded his eyes against it. The edge of the mountains seemed like the brink of destruction, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel hopeless at the moment. Every ending led to a new beginning. Yamauchi was more than just a place, and right now, it was beautiful and peaceful.

He thought about that as he and the princess flew home.

***

Empress Hamayū’s flying carriage headed farther upward, but the princess’s carriage landed in the carriage yard of the Sun Palace, which was the crown prince’s residence.

The Sun Palace was built on a shelf of land jutting out from the mountainside. A large carriage yard spread out before the Sun Palace’s front gate, which was closed at the moment. To reach the Imperial Palace from here, the princess and her escort would need to cross a wide stone bridge and enter another, much larger gate. A scarlet carpet had been laid along the bridge’s length today.

The princess pressed her face to the viewing window as they landed. A white haze drifted between the cliffs and the clouds, moving slowly like a river with nowhere to go. The air here was cold and crisp because of the high altitude.

After Yukiya helped her down from the carriage, Shion looked up at the sheer cliff face and the enormous gate fitted into it. The gate fit perfectly where it was, like the cliff had been designed to accommodate it. Her breath steamed white in the air.

“This way, Your Imperial Highness,” Yukiya said.

The princess nodded and stepped onto the scarlet carpet. Yamauchishu fell into position on both sides, close enough to shield her from danger. Yukiya took his place at her right shoulder. The party crossed the stone bridge in silence and then passed through the gate.

The princess’s eyes went wide.

Yamauchi’s Imperial Court was entirely enclosed inside Souke Territory’s highest mountain. The princess and Yukiya walked into an atrium so vast it induced a brief, vertiginous sense of wrongness. The sky was missing, the walls were stone, and yet there was no accompanying feeling of claustrophobia; the space was too large and grand for that. The rock face had been hollowed out in tiers, level upon level, each floor occupied by a different department of the Imperial Court. On the south side, a huge, open gate admitted the morning sun. Light fell in long shafts across the stone floor. On the north side on the topmost floor, directly opposite the princess, a set of black-lacquered doors stood sealed shut. Those doors led into the Imperial Hall, which opened only on holidays like today. The Golden Raven sat in state there to receive greetings from the hundred most powerful officials in all of Yamauchi.

At the very bottom of the atrium, a stone-paved area was organized into orderly rows of cushions and benches. Officials were already in their places, awaiting the Golden Raven’s arrival. Before them stood an unvarnished wooden stage. On either side of it, the banners of the Four Families hung motionless in the still air. A large incense burner sat on the stage, but it wasn’t lit.

Yukiya and the princess approached the eastern edge of the chamber, which had a staircase leading to higher levels.

In the front rows of benches they passed, Yukiya identified the Lords of the Four Families. Beside them sat the Golden Raven’s elder brother Natsuka, the head priest of Clear Mirror Temple.

The usual practice was for the crown prince to offer New Year’s felicitations to the Golden Raven on behalf of all the officials, but Yamauchi had no crown prince at the moment. Natsuka usually fulfilled this role in the crown prince’s place.

“Her Imperial Highness Princess Shion arrives.” This announcement rang out as they reached the foot of the stairs. Every head in the Imperial Court turned at once.

The princess had grown up in Shion Temple, which was an isolated place. She’d never seen so many people in the same room at once before.

Yukiya noticed her miss a step and placed one hand against her back to steady her.

The princess glanced at him, then straightened up, faced forward, and approached the stage with measured steps.

The Imperial Court was awash with whispers as the princess walked over the stone floor. Her uncle Natsuka moved to the wooden stage and gestured for her to come closer. He was dressed in his priest’s robes and a cloth-of-gold stole. Wrinkles were etched into his face as if he were a man made of stone. He had a strong jaw and a proud bearing. He’d always been loyal to his brother. His presence was vaguely intimidating. The officials closest to him didn’t whisper and kept a respectful distance from the stage.

Natsuka smiled warmly at the princess and raised one hand in a tiny wave.

The princess smiled back at him, the nervousness going out of her face and shoulders. She stepped onto the stage and then bowed.

“I offer New Year’s greetings to the head priest of Clear Mirror Temple,” she said.

“I offer New Year’s greetings to you as well, Princess Shion.” Natsuka put on a grave face and performed a vassal’s salute with brisk precision. “Let us speak later after all this is over,” he added. “For now—this way, please.”

He guided her to her place on the wooden stage. Yukiya stepped back to stand beside Natsuka. The Lords of the Four Families bowed as the princess took her position. The whispers went silent.

When the appointed time came, a gong sounded three times from somewhere above and the black-lacquered doors of the Imperial Hall opened. The curtains of the stage were drawn back, revealing the Golden Raven.

Nazukihiko was a small and distant figure from here, but Yukiya recognized him easily. He wore the deep purple robes that this ceremony demanded, embroidered all over with divine beasts. A jewel hung down from his crown and partially concealed his face. Beside him, Empress Hamayū stood behind a screen that hid her face from the Imperial Court below. From up there, they could see everything.

The incense burner on the stage was lit. The smoke rose straight up in the cold, still air.

Natsuka gestured to the princess, who nodded. She drew in a long breath and then said, “On this new year’s new month’s new day, I come and pay my respects to the Golden Raven and the mountain god, bearing ten thousand blessings for the days to come.” Her voice was clear and high.

After the echoes of her voice had died away, the Golden Raven replied, “On this new year’s new month’s new day, I bless you with ten thousand blessings in the name of the mountain god and the true Golden Raven. Let it be so.”

A bell rang. The hundred assembled officials bowed in a wave that moved through the Imperial Court like a rising tide.

As Yukiya lowered his head, he saw the princess glance sideways at him with an uncertain smile. Her gaze asked without words if she’d done well.

Yukiya nodded slightly and smiled back.

***

After escorting the empress and the princess safely back to Shion Temple, Yukiya made his way to the Golden Raven.

The New Year’s rituals always ran long. By the time he was finally able to speak with his lord directly, it was late, and the Golden Raven’s Palace deep within the Imperial Court was quiet. The day’s ceremonies were already fading into memory.

“Thank you for escorting the princess today,” the Golden Raven said mildly. He’d taken a seat in his rooms in the Golden Raven’s Palace, which was closed off to most officials. This was the most private place the Golden Raven was permitted to be. He kept minimal staff here during the evening hours. After official business was done, it was his custom to speak without ceremony to the people he trusted most. Alone with only his friends, he acted more like his younger self, straightforward to the point of rudeness. He’d never shed that aspect of his personality; he’d only learned to set it aside in public.

Yukiya helped the Golden Raven change into nightclothes. They were both used to this; no one commented on it. The Golden Raven submitted to the assistance with a wry grimace and a vaguely insincere “sorry.”

He’d scarcely aged. Like the empress and his daughter, he had the kind of classical beauty displayed in art: a firm jaw, smooth white skin, a straight, refined nose, and lips red as blood. When he’d been the crown prince, he’d hidden his true feelings behind a cold stare and had permitted no comments on his appearance in his presence. He’d ceased all that in recent years. He was relaxed now, and his eyes showed it. He was a better person, and a better friend, when he didn’t need to hide pieces of himself.

Yukiya had never thought to see Nazukihiko’s personality soften even an inch, so he was sometimes surprised by the contrast between his lord’s public and private faces.

The Golden Raven unfastened his topknot carelessly and combed his hair with his fingers, working out the tension and slight, lingering pain in his scalp. “Is there any way to make the crown lighter?” he asked. “It’s purely decorative. Couldn’t the gold be substituted with gold leaf over a lighter material? No one would be able to tell.”

“The craftsmen would weep if you asked them,” Akeru said. He had the crown in his hands and was about to put it away. He was the Golden Raven’s cousin. Their faces shared a family resemblance, but Akeru’s features were round and boyish, though his student days were at least a decade in the past. He was the Lord of Saike’s second son and had enrolled in the Keisōin the same year as Yukiya. He had been Yukiya’s classmate, which they only occasionally acknowledged. He was young for his position—he was the Golden Raven’s personal attendant, and the volume of paperwork alone would tax most people—but he’d been doing it for so long that no one made comments about his youth anymore.

“How is the Imperial Court responding?” the Golden Raven asked.

Akeru settled the crown into a cabinet and made a serious face. “I’ve heard no signs of unrest. If anything, the reception has been favorable.”

“I see,” the Golden Raven murmured. He sat cross-legged on the floor with the boneless ease of someone who had finally stopped performing.

It had been eight years since Crown Prince Nazukihiko’s ascension, and the matter of the succession remained unresolved. The princess’s birth had prompted a period of quiet waiting—surely a prince would follow—but no word of Empress Hamayū’s pregnancy had come, and the Golden Raven was reluctant to take a consort. The only other men of the Souke family were Natsuka, long committed to the priesthood, and the former Golden Raven, Natsumihiko, who had abdicated and retreated into retirement.

The law was silent on the matter of a female successor. There was no explicit prohibition in the Imperial Code of Law against it, but there was no clear precedent for it either, and the Four Families had each spent generations cultivating their own candidates for the throne.

When Yukiya had first heard the Golden Raven say that he wanted to name his only daughter as his heir, his immediate and private opinion was that it was not a good idea. The princess’s life was already constrained enough. The weight of the throne on top of that—it was too much to ask of anyone. He had said so.

The Golden Raven had given him a smile that looked like a wince. “The position of an imperial princess is already a harsh and painful one. I doubt there’s much we can do to make it worse.”

He had then spoken at considerable length about Shion, her social position, and what was required to keep Yamauchi peaceful and prosperous. He’d considered all these things at length.

Yukiya had listened, of course. At the end of it he still thought that Nazukihiko was asking too much of his only child, but he had understood his lord’s position.

Natsuka had been the first person to agree wholeheartedly with his brother. He had always been Nazukihiko’s staunchest supporter. His support for the Golden Raven was unequivocal. While close retainers were still pressing their hands to their foreheads over the legal and political obstacles in the way of a female succession, Natsuka had declared himself Shion’s guardian and had committed himself to her education. As far as he was concerned, she would be the next Golden Raven.

“This is not a family dispute,” Natsuka had said. “This is a question of who is fit to lead in the future. I absolutely refuse to welcome some young man from the Four Families with nothing on his mind but his own power and self-importance into the Souke family. Shion is far more suitable as a successor.”

With the intentions of both brothers made clear, preparations began in earnest.

The Imperial Court, for its part, had not shown the expected resistance. The times had worn it down. Yamauchi’s very survival was in question; forcing a son from one of the Four Families into the line of succession would cause a destabilizing upheaval. Keeping Shion as a figurehead was more convenient than war. The situation was not ideal, but this was how things were and would be.

The former Empress Oumurasaki opposed Shion’s role as the next Golden Raven, but she was the only one. She was Natsuka’s birth mother and had never stopped scheming to get her own son on the throne. She declared publicly that she’d never allow the ascension of a female Golden Raven.

Now that she was no longer empress, Oumurasaki went by her religious name, Shiun no In, which she’d adopted after taking vows to the mountain god.

Around the time that rumors of Shion becoming Nazukihiko’s successor began circulating in the Imperial Court, the princess’s meal had been poisoned. No conclusive evidence was found.

The incident had been chilling. The princess was still a very small child, and the poison could easily have been fatal. But it wasn’t, and the aftermath of the poisoning proved useful to the young princess and her parents.

For years, Shiun no In had refused to acknowledge Hamayū as empress. The Fujimiyaren, which by rights should have been transferred to the new empress as her all-female guard corps, had never been handed over. The court ladies of the Inner Palace were all under Shiun no In’s influence. Empress Hamayū had not been permitted to enter the Inner Palace at all. That was why Shion had grown up in Shion Temple and not the Imperial Palace.

The poisoning changed things visibly enough that members of the Fujimiyaren defected. Shiun no In no longer had legitimate authority. Everyone knew this. Forced to choose, many Fujimiyaren resigned or started working for Hamayū. Hamayū couldn’t trust them, so she hired and trained many new Fujimiyaren.

Shion’s formal greeting today had been mostly for appearance’s sake. The Imperial Court had to accept her before she came of age, or she would suffer like her mother had. When she was old enough, she would move to the Sun Palace—the residence of every crown prince in Yamauchi’s history—and she had to be ready for that.

The Golden Raven’s spies had already compiled their impressions of the day and sent in their reports. Akeru summarized them. “On the whole, the princess is viewed favorably,” he said. “There is a general consensus that she is still young and that there is no need to make hasty judgments about her. We haven’t heard from our spies among the Four Families yet.”

The Golden Raven scratched the back of his head.

Akeru smiled tentatively. “Some still cannot quite imagine the possibility of a female Golden Raven. There were those who spoke of it as though it were a joke. The ceremony today would usually have occurred with a young prince in her place, and several people speculated that the Lords of the Four Families would prefer their sons in that role. There was also some talk of the Rite of Ascension.”

The Rite of Ascension took place in Sakura Palace. Crown princes of the past had selected a duchess from one of the Four Families to wed; she would become the empress when he became the emperor. In principle, this gave every the Four Families an equal chance to improve their social position in the Imperial Court. In practice, the Rite of Ascension was a sustained exercise in competitive suffering with occasional casualties.

Yukiya had been the crown prince’s personal attendant for his Rite of Ascension. Hearing the rite named still produced a physical sensation in him somewhere between mild nausea and profound weariness. The Crown Prince—now the Golden Raven—had all but refused to participate in his own Rite of Ascension, and that had caused headaches for everyone around him.

“After the princess is formally made my heir, we will have to make such preparations as well,” the Golden Raven said speculatively.

Yukiya felt his cheek twitch. “Please tell me you’re joking. Need I remind you that multiple people were murdered during your Rite of Ascension? Why would you want to subject the princess to something like that? We will find a suitable match for her from among young men of appropriate standing, and quietly. Her life is not a performance.”

The Golden Raven pondered that for a moment and then nodded. “Perhaps you’re right.”

Akeru opened his mouth to soothe ruffled feathers, but before he could speak, a bell chimed once. This signal could be used to indicate that a non-urgent matter had come up that required the Golden Raven’s attention.

“What is it?” the Golden Raven asked.

“Pardon the disturbance, Your Imperial Majesty. Chihaya has returned from the human world. He has come to the Imperial Hall.”

“Chihaya?” The Golden Raven’s eyes narrowed. There should have been advance notice of Chihaya’s return.

Akeru frowned. “Why did he hurry back?”

There was a muffled sound like laughter from beyond the door. “Please do not be too concerned, Your Imperial Majesty. Chihaya reports that he had an opportunity to return and that nothing serious has occurred. He learned that Lord Akeru and Lord Yukiya were also present, so he thought he’d visit. He asks if the hour is too late for visitors.”

It was not too late in the evening, so the Golden Raven commanded the gate guard to let Chihaya through.

Chihaya entered the quiet chamber and saluted by pressing his palms together at chest level and then spreading them upward and apart. He had his adult height, but he still looked like the gangly youth he’d been. His hair was cut short, imitating the styles of the human world.

“I offer my New Year’s felicitations to His Imperial Majesty the Golden Raven.”

“Yes, thank you.” The Golden Raven waved this formality away. “At ease, Chihaya.”

Chihaya bowed slightly and then stood up straight.

“Hi, Chihaya,” Akeru said warmly. They were all friends here. “Did something happen? You weren’t supposed to come back yet.”

“I know,” Chihaya said. “I ran away.”

Akeru and Yukiya stared at him.

The Golden Raven, who had spent time in the human world himself and had some familiarity with its customs, grasped the situation immediately. “Ah. The Tengu show no mercy at the year’s end. Their rituals make our own look tame, and they drag everyone through all of it, don’t they?”

“Keeping up appearances is part of the role,” Chihaya said. “But…”

“But you couldn’t do it? You came back before their rituals began, I think.”

“Yes, I did.”

His lord expressed sympathy. “It must have been difficult for you to escape.”

Chihaya made a face.

***

Chihaya had been the first Yamauchishu to be sent abroad. The Golden Raven had given him special dispensation to enter the human world.

The decision had not been lightly made. With Yamauchi’s collapse now a matter of when rather than if, the Imperial Court had begun to consider the human world in earnest, not as a curiosity but as a contingency. Was it possible for Yatagarasu to emigrate? Could people evacuate through the gates? The Nanke family, which monopolized trade with the human world, showed reluctance to allow Yatagarasu to enter the human world for research purposes. Negotiations with the Tengu dragged on. It had only been about a year since arrangements were finalized and the first Yatagarasu could actually be sent.

The first candidate put forward had been Yukiya, but his position made that impossible. In a military emergency, he would be needed as the army’s strategist. There was no scenario in which he could be permitted to leave Yamauchi.

Chihaya was put forward next. He’d graduated at the top of his class at the Keisōin and had proved himself to be a capable guard with keen intelligence. The main drawback to sending him was that he didn’t talk much. He didn’t like or want to, and that would make researching the human world more difficult. Serious doubts had been raised about whether he was suited to a posting that required actively mingling with humans and adapting to an alien world.

The Golden Raven had heard all these doubts and appointed Chihaya anyway.

Chihaya had been displeased when he’d learned that he was to be sent, but he went. He’d spent a year in the human world by now, and his opinion of it had not improved in the slightest.

“How is it out there?” Yukiya asked.

“Same as always.” He paused. “Honestly, it’s more than I can manage.”

Chihaya wanted there to be more people appointed to study abroad. He’d been pushing for that since before his appointment.

“Different people pick up on different things. Even now, there’s a significant difference between people who’ve been to the human world and those who haven’t in terms of how they think. I believe it’s important for more perspectives to take in the human world so that we Yatagarasu gain greater awareness.”

“Awareness of what?” Yukiya asked.

“The crisis we face,” Chihaya said. “If Yamauchi were to collapse, the Yatagarasu might be forced into the human world. We have not prepared to make the human world into a refuge. I don’t think anyone’s even talked about it. I have no intention of leaving Yamauchi and living out there as a human—honestly, I’d rather die. It would be better if we turned into normal ravens, I think.”

Akeru sucked in a breath. “Do you understand what you’re saying? If a Yatagarasu leaves Yamauchi without passing through a gate, they lose their god-given power of transformation instantly. Perhaps they could survive that, but Yamauchi’s culture and history would be lost. We Yatagarasu would go extinct.”

Chihaya listened impassively. “If we’re going out into the human world, I’m saying it would be easier to live as an ordinary raven than to spend the rest of our lives pretending to be human.” He shook his head. “The end of Yamauchi is also the end of the Yatagarasu. That’s all there is to it.”

Yukiya frowned.

Chihaya noticed, but he didn’t soften his position in the slightest. “Anyway, that’s what I think.”

“Commoners don’t shun the raven form,” the Golden Raven said speculatively.

Chihaya shrugged. “You always say that. Seems irrelevant to me.”

Akeru’s shoulders dropped, and the room was quiet for a moment.

Chihaya had a commoner background, unlike the rest of those present. He had spent his childhood fearing that he would end up spending his life as a horse, his third leg cut and his movements bounded by a field. Parts of him that felt out of step with the values of court life had always been visible. Sending him as a scout into the human world first might have been a mistake.

“There is a difference between how commoners and nobles think, certainly,” Chihaya added, glancing at Akeru and Yukiya. “But I don’t think nobles would want to be human out there, either.” He looked away.

The Golden Raven rested his chin in one hand and thought for a moment. “Long ago, the empress said something similar to me,” he said.

“Empress Hamayū?” Yukiya asked.

“Yes.” The Golden Raven looked down at his hands, his focus somewhere else. “She said that it would be fine to live in raven form. That the most important thing is to survive. Death closes all other doors. As long as we survive in some form, we can find another path for our people. That’s what I think.”

Yukiya did not ask what topic of conversation had led to Hamayū saying something so astonishing.

“Then does Your Imperial Majesty also believe it would be acceptable for us to be reduced to nothing more than ordinary ravens?” Akeru asked in a small voice.

The Golden Raven shook his head. “No, that’s not what I said. But I think that if things continue as they are, it will inevitably come to that.”

Chihaya nodded. “We need to know a lot more about the human world, and our own people haven’t accepted the idea that Yamauchi’s end is inevitable. If we had to enter the human world today, most of us wouldn’t be able to pass as human even in our human forms. Not unless something changes. If members of the Four Families went to the human world, I think they would understand the coming crisis better and would support more measures being taken to prepare us for the worst outcomes. Fear is a powerful motivator, and we haven’t been making use of it so far.”

The Golden Raven listened avidly, nodding along. Then he looked at Yukiya. “That is why I think you must go and see the human world for yourself.”

Yukiya’s eyes went wide. “Are you telling me to leave Yamauchi, now of all times? Your daughter needs all of our support to be accepted as your heir. I’ve been working out how to bring the Four Families around, and now you’re telling me to leave?”

The Golden Raven looked grave. “There is no safe time to send you,” he said. “Things will only get worse over time, I imagine. Your going to the human world will benefit Yamauchi, though; of that I am certain.”

Yukiya absorbed this. “If that is what Your Imperial Majesty commands, I have no objections.”

“Then it’s settled. We’ll coordinate with the Tengu.” He paused and then said, “Spring would be the best time to go, I think.”

“Please wait,” Akeru said, alarmed. “There are a great many matters we have entrusted to Yukiya. He cannot possibly go so soon. The Tengu have their own circumstances to manage as well.”

“That’s true.”

“Summer, then.”

“No,” the Golden Raven said.

“…Will it not inevitably end up being summer regardless?”

Decisions accumulated before Yukiya could get a word in edgewise. He put on his listening face and waited.

The Golden Raven noticed his partial inattention and titled his head, peering at Yukiya’s face. Then he nodded. “I see…”

Yukiya’s gut clenched in terror. The Golden Raven only looked like that when he’d had a brilliant and horrible idea.

“Are you planning to send me in summer?” Yukiya asked.

“I suppose, if spring can’t be managed. I was thinking that there might be something you wanted to do before you went to the human world.”

“What’s that?”

“Guard duty for the princess.”

Guarding the princess was part of Yukiya’s role as a Yamauchishu. It took a moment for Yukiya to realize that the Golden Raven wasn’t talking about guarding Shion Temple.

“It’s the next step after the New Year’s ceremony. I want to start teaching the princess my duties. To that end, I want the princess to make an imperial visit to the other territories.”

During the reigns of Nazukihiko and his grandfather Natsuhiko, there had been occasions when the Golden Raven traveled to Yamauchi’s territories. The previous reign had put a stop to that entirely; Natsumihiko had rarely left the Imperial Palace. Now, as the era was finally settling into something resembling peace, members of the Four Families were requesting formal imperial visits.

“We’ve received an invitation from the Lord of Touke to the Flower Festival,” the Golden Raven said.

The previous Lord of Touke had retired when he was still a young man. The new Lord of Touke had only recently taken up his position. The Flower Festival was celebrated lavishly in Touke Territory each spring. Historically, the Golden Raven himself would perform the festival’s rites in honor of the mountain god. An imperial visit was always considered an honor, and the Lord of Touke had been most assiduous in sending along a large number of invitations to the festival this year. He wanted to demonstrate to his own people that the Golden Raven valued and trusted him.

“I think this is a good opportunity,” the Golden Raven said. “If I send her in my stead, she will be my direct representative. It would make a stronger statement than the ritual today. She would be seen by common people as well as nobles. The Lord of Touke would take it as proof of trust. Arranging all of this might be a nuisance, but we should consider the benefits.

“Above all, I want the princess to see the territories, not just the capital. I want her to see Yamauchi as I govern it. All of it, from end to end, with her own eyes.”

“I have heard that the princess asked to attend the Flower Festival in Touke Territory recently,” Akeru said.

The Golden Raven nodded. He’d told his daughter about the Flower Festival some time ago, and she had shown considerable interest in it. He laughed a little. “But I also wanted to give her the opportunity to make an imperial visit to the other territories. I can’t say anything more until I confirm her attendance with the Lord of Touke’s representatives, but I want you to guard her, Yukiya. Let her walk around and see the sights when you think it’s appropriate.”

“Are you serious?” Yukiya asked.

“If you’re with her, nothing terrible will happen. Right?” He smiled, bright and full of confidence.

Yukiya wanted to argue, but he knew he’d lose if he tried. “Understood, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“I want the princess to have as many experiences as possible while she is young and healthy and unburdened,” the Golden Raven said.

The Golden Raven knew the provinces well for a man who rarely left the Imperial Palace. Yukiya wondered when he’d had time to tour them, though he knew that Nazukihiko had traveled quite a lot as a child. His wandering ways had caused his personal guard, Sumio, no end of grief. Nazukihiko had ceased his wanderings at some point, becoming cautious and measured.

Was he afraid? It was so difficult for Yukiya to tell sometimes.

“My own youthful travels were quite useful to me,” the Golden Raven said lightly. “Though I caused Sumio plenty of trouble, alas.”

“I’ll bet,” Yukiya said. “I should ask Sumio about all the trouble you caused.” This came out more bluntly than Yukiya had intended. Sumio had suffered grievous injuries and was no longer the Golden Raven’s personal guard. His absence here had weight, because he should be here and couldn’t be.

Yukiya didn’t say anything more. Neither did anyone else.

The Golden Raven broke the silence. “Well, now.” He narrowed his eyes slightly, still smiling.

This was such a strange situation. When the Golden Raven had been the crown prince, over nine-tenths of the Imperial Court had been his enemies. This plan to send the princess to the territories was like a scene from someone else’s life.

Perhaps the Golden Raven was thinking the same thing. He swept his gaze across the faces of his allies and said, “I never noticed how many friends I have.”

***

Word came from the Lord of Touke accepting Princess Shion’s visit. A message also arrived from the Tengu approving Yukiya’s application to study abroad in the human world. As expected, the study abroad posting would have to wait until summer. Yukiya would escort Shion to Touke Territory for her imperial visit and then depart for the human world.

Those around them were informed of both matters in quick succession. The arrangements for the Flower Festival moved forward apace.

The question of what to tell Shion was complex. Empress Hamayū told Yukiya that it would be better if he told her himself, in his own words. Every time he went to see the princess, she turned a clear, direct gaze on him, the same look she had given him in the carriage before the New Year’s celebration—wholly happy and trusting. Words were impossible when she looked at him like that.

So the preparations for the Flower Festival were made without Yukiya’s input.

***

The Flower Festival celebrated the mountain god’s birth. Such festivals were held everywhere in Yamauchi, but the one at Kochi Village in Touke Territory was considered special. There were several reasons for this, and most of them were evident even before setting foot in the village.

The village headman’s residence and the largest temple stood at the foot of a mountain called Mt. Hana. At the summit there was a small shrine to the mountain god. During the festival, children of the village decorated the shrine with flowers and carried more flowers down from the mountaintop, symbolizing bringing the mountain god down to the village below. On the large stage in the shrine, dances were dedicated to the god throughout the day and well into the night. It was believed that the mountain god could descend into dancers if he so chose.

It was also believed that the mountain god did not descend alone. The ancestral spirits who served the mountain god were said to come down with him. The spirits of generations past returned for the duration of the festival. So that those spirits could enjoy the festival without being watched or recognized, it was considered proper etiquette for the villagers of Kochi to come to the festival in disguise. Celestial maidens, fox spirits, red ogres, comical masks—people dressed themselves up in various costumes, and no one was recognizable at a glance.

Stalls lined the streets below Mt. Hana. Simple stages were set up throughout the village, not only at the shrine. Skilled musicians played throughout the day. Flower maidens came from far and wide to dance and whirl in the streets.

But what really made Mt. Hana’s festival unlike any other was this: when spring arrived, the mountain burst into bloom. All of it, all at once. Plum blossoms that usually bloomed earliest in spring grew alongside azaleas and wisteria that should not be in full bloom until early summer. All of the flowers open simultaneously, as if the mountain had set aside ordinary rules of when things were permitted to happen.

The scale of it was extraordinary. The mountain appeared to glow at night, and the water and air near Mt. Hana tasted faintly sweet, like honey caught in the back of the throat.

Some held that this was proof the mountain god had truly descended onto Mt. Hana. The spectacle of a hundred kinds of flowers in full and simultaneous bloom, the streets bustling with costumed figures, and the music carrying up the mountain and back down again was the most beautiful experience Yamauchi had to offer.

***

The day Princess Shion came to Touke Territory was clear and sunny.

The flying carriage soared grandly above the heads of the people gathered below. Gold-plated fittings caught the light, bells ringing with each sway of the carriage body. Around it, Yamauchishu riding swift horses held formation. Purple standards embroidered with hanging wisteria vines and a shining sun trailed from the horses’ necks. The bright red cord bound around each Yamauchishu sword contrasted against their severe black garb. The whole procession was precisely ordered and a bit overwhelming.

The villagers on the ground cheered as the carriage drew nearer. Some people applauded. Others waved handkerchiefs. Everyone looked happy.

Yukiya flew on horseback near the carriage, close enough to intervene instantly if anything went wrong. He watched the faces below carefully, searching for signs of trouble and discontent. Though they had stopped several times along the route, this was Shion’s first long journey, and he had been keeping a quiet eye on her to ensure that travel wouldn’t fatigue her too much. She had her personal attendants in the carriage with her.

When the village shrine came into view, the Yamauchishu at the head of the procession played their flutes. The carriage yard near the shrine had been carefully swept and scrubbed; Yukiya didn’t see a single speck of dust or dirt on the ground.

The Yamauchishu guided the formation down in unison, and the carriage landed smoothly.

Yukiya dismounted and was the first to the carriage door.

The viewing window opened. Shion looked out, her dark eyes wide with excitement.

“Akane and I are both well,” the princess said. “It seems that Kikuno got a little airsick, though.”

“You may rest in a soon. Would Your Imperial Highness be willing to greet the Lord of Touke first?”

“Yes, of course.”

While the horse was being unhitched and the step stool and scarlet carpet were being laid for Shion’s descent into the carriage yard, Yukiya moved ahead to meet the officials waiting in front of the shrine.

The new Lord of Touke was standing in the very front. He had sent his invitation to the Golden Raven and was serving as their host.

“Welcome,” Aotsugu, Lord of Touke, said with an effortless bow. He had thin lips and thinner eyebrows. The corners of his eyes drooped slightly, making him appear mild-mannered and kind. He was fair-skinned and had no trace of a beard. The Lords of Saike were certainly more handsome and fashionable, but the new Lord of Touke would still be considered quite attractive in the Imperial Court. He looked younger than he was, and he was scarcely thirty years old.

It was not unusual for Lords of Touke to retire early in life, “so that judgments can be made more in step with the times,” as the previous lord had been fond of saying. Though new to his position, the Lord of Touke bore himself with pride and confidence. His smile, Yukiya noted, was very like his father’s… and his father was widely known as a conniving liar.

They had met a few times before, but this was Yukiya’s first time exchanging words with Lord Aotsugu in person.

“Lord Aotsugu. Thank you for going out of your way to welcome us,” Yukiya said.

“Not at all, not at all. Lord Yukiya, you must be exhausted from such a long journey.” He spoke with genuine warmth. “This is a tremendous honor for all of Touke Territory. We are gratified that Princess Shion has deigned to grace us with her presence for our humble festival.”

Yukiya disliked—and distrusted—him immediately. “There’s quite a crowd,” Yukiya remarked.

People were still cheering for the princess and her carriage.

Aotsugu’s smile was a complicated thing. He held out a printed handbill of festival events to Yukiya. “We sincerely hope Her Imperial Highness will be pleased.”

As Yukiya looked over the handbill, the Lord of Touke gushed over the carriage and made polite noises about accommodations. He leaned forward and said, “You know, they’re not only cheering for our dear princess.”

“They’re not?” Yukiya asked without looking up from the handbill.

“They very much admire the Yamauchishu.”

Yukiya glanced back at his comrades standing in formation around the carriage. Purple banners fluttered in the breeze. Sunlight glinted on their red-corded blades.

“The people of Touke Territory have heard many tales of the exploits of the Yamauchishu,” Aotsugu said. “And Touke Territory is the holy land of musicians. Stages are set up everywhere; performances run almost every day.” He paused. “The events of the great war have been used to create an opera.”

Yukiya’s right hand twitched.

“The heroes of Yamauchishu are here. The battle against the Kuisaru plays especially well, I’m told.”

Yukiya felt bitter and offended to have that episode of his life compressed into a musical performance without his consent. To think that war and battle and Yamauchi’s peril could be translated into basic entertainment with costumes and stages! He kept his face neutral, but he was inwardly seething. Expressing his actual opinion would only make things awkward, so he remained silent.

Aotsugu’s smile deepened. “You are the most popular hero of all.”

Yukiya forgot to hide his reaction for a moment. “Excuse me, I didn’t catch that,” he said in a tone like ice.

“The names of the Yamauchishu who distinguished themselves on the front lines have reached us here, including your own of course. A young prodigy from the Hokke family—the youngest in history to be entrusted with command of the entire army.” He tilted his head in a gesture of polite innocence. “Of course you’re a hero. Everyone says so.”

No words came.

“The opera is called Flourishing,” the Lord of Touke said pleasantly. “It is very popular.”

Of course it was.

“I do hope you’ll be able to watch it during your stay. I’m fond of it, myself. It is a great honor to meet you.” His smile expressed a hint of wariness.

“The honor is mine,” Yukiya said distantly. He hated it here already, but he had no choice but to stay.

The red carpet had been laid down for the princess. Yukiya excused himself and hurried to her side.

***

Shion was led to a chamber within the shrine where she could rest and change into her ceremonial dress.

Akane looked her up and down and smiled in approval. “Your Imperial Highness, you look wonderful!”

Akane was Shion’s personal attendant. She was young and tanned with an expressive face that showed everything she felt. She was healthy, lively, and thoroughly lovable. Her father was Sumio, formerly of the Yamauchishu; her mother was Masuho no Susuki of Saike.

The marriage of Masuho no Susuki and Sumio was one of life’s great mysteries to Yukiya. After Sumio retired from active duty and not long before Shion’s birth, those two polar opposite personalities had decided to marry. By all accounts, they were disgustingly devoted to each other. Masuho no Susuki was currently expecting another child and remained in their lodgings; her former attendant, Kikuno, had come to Touke Territory for the Flower Festival her place.

Akane had a twin sister, Aoi, who was too sickly to serve as Shion’s companion. Akane herself was perfectly healthy and was more than a bit tomboyish. She loved climbing trees and would race a boy in the air or on the ground if she found one worth racing. Her parents had clearly spoken to her before departure; she’d been on her very best behavior since leaving Shion Temple.

Bringing Akane had not been part of the original plan. There were serious security concerns about her presence here that the Golden Raven had waved away.

“It’s fine if she comes along and enjoys it,” Nazukihiko had said, dismissing any potential problems out of hand.

Yukiya had wanted to point out that this visit was not being conducted for pleasure. But Shion loved her cousin’s company, so he couldn’t bring himself to object too strenuously.

The plan for the remainder of the day was for Shion to offer sweet tea to the sacred figure of the mountain god housed in the portable shrine that had descended from the mountain, then observe the dancing in a pavilion on the shrine’s grounds. The grounds were open to the villagers. This would be the first time Shion would meet Yamauchi’s common people.

Akane and Kikuno went ahead to the pavilion. Shortly after, the Yamauchishu who had formed a close guard around Shion during the journey proceeded on foot toward the shrine with the princess.

Commoners were held back by guards at the shrine’s entrance. They jostled one another, attempting to see better. Everyone wanted a glimpse of the imperial princess. The steward of Touke Territory gestured to an attendant, who stepped forward quickly with a bamboo screen to conceal the princess’s face from view.

“Yuki, who are those people?” Shion whispered.

“Don’t worry about them,” Yukiya said. “Just leave them to me.”

Shion stopped walking and waited for Yukiya to stand at her side before she said, “But, Yuki… His Imperial Majesty said we must make an effort so that everyone will like us.” She looked at the crowd. “And surely they came all this way to see me…”

Yukiya opened his mouth and then closed it. “That may be so, but you owe them nothing, Your Imperial Highness.”

Shion shook her head firmly. “His Imperial Majesty’s commands must be carried out.”

An attendant approached them carrying another bamboo screen.

“That won’t be necessary,” Shion said mildly, waving the attendant away. Her smile was kind, but firm. She faced the main shrine and started walking.

The attendant shot a somewhat guilty look toward Yukiya and another attendant, but he said nothing.

Yukiya followed Shion. When they reached the main shrine, he announced, “Her Imperial Highness Princess Shion has arrived.”

Drums boomed. Bells and flutes jangled and played sharp, high notes. The interior of the shrine was packed solid with people. Every face turned toward the princess. There were more people here than there had been in the Imperial Palace for the New Year’s celebration. The princess’ surroundings were loud and too warm despite the cool spring breeze.

Yukiya moved to the princess’ right shoulder, close enough to be a shield between her and anything that came from that direction. He calculated angles and watched hands, reading the crowd’s shape for anything irregular. He was not watching the ceremony.

Shion poured sweet tea over the sacred figure in the center of the shrine and then offered a prayer to the mountain god, which she had memorized perfectly. The Yamauchishu surrounded her as they approached the dance pavilion. Bamboo screens were lowered around her, but she moved them out of the way with mild annoyance.

The crowd caught its breath as the princess revealed herself.

Shion stepped forward and gave the crowd a beaming smile.

The crowd cheered and the ground shook from the stomping of many feet.

“Her Imperial Highness the Princess of Shion Temple!”

“Princess Shion!”

Musicians made their way to the stage and struck up a merry tune. The drums and a gong matched the crowd’s cheering rhythm perfectly, making the audience part of the performance. The flutist improvised a melody as the bell ringers joined in.

A dancer leaped onto the stage. For a few moments, everything was chaotic, but then the percussion section helped everyone coordinate their parts. The crowd’s attention shifted from the princess to the dancer as the performance smoothed out.

The dancer’s style was nothing like the one employed by Imperial Court entertainers. Her movements were grounded and deceptively simple, like her limbs were an extension of the ground below her. She was earthy and alive like a flower blooming from the stage.

Yukiya paid scarcely any attention to the dancer. His roving eyes were on the crowd, taking in signals from the Yamauchishu. All safe. All well.

When he was satisfied, Yukiya turned toward the princess and said, “You may take your seat now, Your Imperial Highness.”

“I shall, thank you.”

The princess sat and was well entertained for the better part of the next hour, her expression rapt and worshipful as she watched the dancer on the stage.

***

The dance came to an end when the sunlight began to slant, making all shadows longer and deeper. The dancer quit the stage, and musicians played in turns, sometimes singly and more often together. They would sing and dance all night until the end of the festival.

Shion had put in her formal festival appearance, so it would be acceptable for her to wander for awhile and see the sights. She returned to the chamber set aside for her use where Akane and her other attendants were waiting. Yukiya gave her permission to see the festival as long as her guards accompanied her.

The gate to the main shrine was buried in flowers. Stalls set up alongside it sold festival wares that could only be found in Touke Territory at this time of year. Shion’s movements were limited by the bounds of the shrine, but she was determined to enjoy herself nonetheless. She could don a mask and wander the crowds anonymously, which struck her as quite convenient.

Shion and Akane had their faces painted white by ladies-in-waiting, with small touches of rouge on their cheeks. The makeup was ordinary—deliberately so. Their costumes were carefully made in the style of something a wealthy commoner mother might have sewn for her daughters. Shion’s costume resembled what the dancer had worn on stage that afternoon, but in different colors. Akane tucked a yellow-orange flower into a crown of colored paper and set it on Shion’s head. Instead of the exaggerated ornamentation that many people wore on their backs, Shion and Akane had sewn fluttery fabric scraps to their dresses so that when they spread their hands wide, the undersides of their sleeves opened like a butterfly’s wings.

The two of them looked at their heavily painted faces and laughed, extending their arms and spinning where they stood.

Yukiya watched them with a complicated expression. Shion rarely had opportunities to act her age.

The plan for the evening was for Yukiya and Kikuno to pose as the parents of Shion and Akane, who were pretending to be sisters. Yamauchishu would position themselves on all sides, dressed to blend in. At a glance, they would look like any other family enjoying the festival. There were plenty of visitors here who’d traveled from the other territories.

Yukiya had just changed clothes. All that remained was for Kikuno to finish dressing, and they could go.

“Lord Yukiya, might I have a moment?” one of Lord Aotsugu’s attendants asked. He stood by the entrance to the chamber.

Yukiya had an uneasy feeling in his gut as he asked, “What is it?”

“Our lord wishes to speak with you urgently. He cannot wait. If you won’t come now, there will not be another opportunity.”

“He told you to say that, did he?” Yukiya asked.

The attendant’s manner of speech was polite. His urgency didn’t come from danger, it seemed, but from habit. He was used to doing exactly as his lord commanded.

Yukiya had never had a lengthy conversation with Lord Aotsugu of Touke, but there would be plenty of chances to speak with him in the capital. The attendant’s false urgency disturbed him. He hesitated, his eyes flicking toward Shion.

The princess tugged at his sleeve. “Yuki,” she said, looking up at him with her clear dark eyes. Before he could speak, she lowered her head in a slight, composed bow. “You should go.”

“Your Imperial Highness, His Imperial Majesty’s strict instruction was that if you were to go incognito to the festival, I must accompany you as your escort.”

“I’m aware of that.” She tilted her head slightly. “Still—you’ve been summoned, haven’t you? It must be important. Please don’t concern yourself with us. Go ahead.”

She was speaking like a little adult, which made Yukiya frown.

Shion grinned. “Mother said that to His Imperial Majesty once. Did I get it right? I think I understand what it means.”

Her smile reassured him. He nodded and said, “I am grateful for Your Imperial Highness’s kindness. I will return as soon as I am able. Will Your Imperial Highness wait here?”

“Of course. Please be careful.”

Yukiya turned back to the messenger. “I will come,” he said. He gave instructions to the Yamauchishu, changed quickly into his feather robe, and left the chamber.

***

Yukiya’s back had barely disappeared from view when Akane burst into tears, threatening to ruin her face paint.

“Akane! What’s wrong?”

Akane’s sobbing intensified. “Princess, why did you tell Yukiya it was all right to leave us? Today was supposed to be fun. Mother said so!”

“It can’t be helped. It’s Yukiya’s duty to go when he’s summoned by one of the lords,” Shion said.

“He’s never coming back.” Akane pressed her fists to her eyes. “He always says he’ll be right back, and then he never comes back at all.”

“I’m sorry, Akane.” She reached for Akane’s hand.

Akane pulled back. “Don’t apologize to me!”

Shion tilted her head in confusion.

“I don’t feel sorry for myself. I feel sorry for you, princess!” She shook her head. “I’ve got Mother and Father. I can play with them, but you’re not like that. You’re always studying so hard, and Yukiya is always making you run around, and it’s so awful…” Her shoulders shook.

Shion was quiet for a long while. Her parents often said they would spend time with her, but those promises had been broken time and again. She remembered a shared meal that she’d cooked herself and eaten alone, a wild garden of tiger lilies they’d meant to visit and never did, an invitation to pick cherries together that came to nothing. Small things, every one of them. Yukiya came as often as he could manage, which, given how busy he was, was rather more often than Shion expected.

The princess had no idea that Akane felt this way about her situation. “Akane, you’re so kind to me,” she said.

“But if you cry like that, you’ll worry the princess,” Kikuno said, moving to put a hand on Akane’s back.

Akane pressed her forehead to her knees and refused to lift her face.

Kikuno looked at Shion with a helpless expression and bowed her head. The Yamauchishu behind her appeared thoroughly uncomfortable.

Shion looked at each of them in turn. She had an idea. “Akane, I have a favor to ask.”

Akane lifted her head a little, her eyes bright red and her breathing unsteady.

“Would you go and buy wisteria tempura for me?”

“…Tempura?” Akane asked.

Kikuno’s mouth dropped open.

“His Imperial Majesty told me about it. In Touke Territory, they make wisteria tempura. It’s slightly sweet, and I have heard that it is quite delicious. But wisteria is the Souke family’s emblem, so people aren’t really supposed to eat it. They make it and buy it in secret. I’ve always wanted to try it.” She folded her hands in her lap, the picture of a perfect little lady. “I saw a wisteria trellis in full bloom just inside the temple grounds. If they sell it anywhere at the festival, I expect you’ll find it there.”

“Your Imperial Highness,” one of the Yamauchishu said carefully. “First, we must obtain Lord Yukiya’s permission. We cannot act independently.”

“I will be here reading a book. If only Kikuno and Akane go out, everything will be fine, right?” She smiled at them.

The Yamauchishu remained silent, but he was clearly perturbed.

Shion turned back to Akane. “I promised Mother and the others rather a lot of souvenirs… Since I have to stay here, I’ll need Akane and Kikuno to go in my place. Is that not allowed?”

Akane looked at her. “Could we do that?”

“I don’t see why not.”

One of the Yamauchishu tried to protest again, but the smiles on Akane’s and Shion’s faces made him pause. He grunted and then fell silent.

“That’s no problem,” another Yamauchishu said tentatively.

“Good,” Shion said.

“However, I would feel better if the escort included soldiers assigned to the Lord of Touke and not just Lady Kikuno’s guards.”

“That’s a wonderful idea. Could you arrange it?”

The Yamauchishu hurried out of the chamber.

Shion took Akane’s hand. “Tell me everything you see outside. And please buy lots of unusual things.”

Akane wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Yes. I’ll buy lots and lots, I promise.”

“Thank you.” Shion glanced at Kikuno.

Kikuno didn’t need expression on her face to look sad, somehow.

“Kikuno, please,” Shion said.

“Your Imperial Highness—”

“I’ll be fine.” This was not bravado; it was true. Missing the festival was disappointing, yes, but the thought of causing trouble for Yukiya through her own selfishness was considerably more distressing. She smiled. “Besides, Yukiya might be back soon. You never know.”

She would wait for Yukiya patiently, just as she’d said she would.

***

Aotsugu, Lord of Touke, waited in the guest hall of the village headman’s residence for Yukiya’s arrival. The sky had not yet fully darkened. As he was looking at the white azaleas in the garden through a window, Yukiya made his appearance.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Not at all. I apologize for summoning you so suddenly.” Aotsugu’s collar was loose, and rice wine cups and small dishes of food were arranged within easy reach on the low table before him. He gave Yukiya a lazy smile.

“So, what is this urgent matter?” Yukiya asked.

“Uh… There isn’t one.”

Yukiya nearly lost his composure.

“I wanted to sit and talk with you. It seemed like this might be a good opportunity. Please sit,” Aotsugu said, still smiling. He gestured to a cushion across from him.

Yukiya swallowed a yell and sat down. His feelings of guilt about leaving Shion worsened, but there was no graceful way to turn and leave. He reached for a cup of rice wine and sat down. “Speak, then.”

Dancers and musicians played beyond the walls, the music clearly audible. The sky was the color of faded ink. The moon rose, huge and so bright that it hurt to look at.

They kept to harmless topics at first: the rice wine, the dances they had seen that afternoon, the music. A kitchen servant appeared whenever the cups ran low; she filled them without intruding on the conversation.

They drained their cups at the same time. Silence fell. The kitchen servant poured.

Then Aotsugu said, “I’m told my father and I resemble each other greatly, but my way of thinking is a little different from his.”

Yukiya said nothing.

“The Touke family are considered devious. People say you can never tell what we’re thinking.” He paused. “I believe there are necessary arts of concealment, and unnecessary ones. It isn’t always right to keep everything hidden. I prefer to clarify my intent whenever possible.”

It was unusual for a Lord of the Four Families to speak in such a way. Yukiya found himself doubting the man’s honesty, and not just because he was from the Touke family.

Aotsugu’s smile widened. “I shall ask plainly, then: To what extent is His Imperial Majesty the Golden Raven considering the possibility of making Shion his successor?”

Yukiya was surprised that Aotsugu would ask that with so little preamble. “You are direct, but not clear, Lord Aotsugu. A man makes someone his successor, or he does not.”

Aotsugu frowned slightly at that. “I have heard that the empress has a constitution that makes bearing children difficult. Does His Imperial Majesty have no intention of taking a consort?”

“That is a rude question.”

“Indeed, but I doubt I’ll have another opportunity to ask.” His lips thinned to a severe line. “I am asking only for your private opinion, you understand. If you remain silent, I shall ask the question another way until you answer it.”

“His Imperial Majesty has no intention of taking a consort at present.”

Aotsugu’s expression was unreadable. “Then he truly intends to make the princess the next Golden Raven?”

“Are you opposed to a female Golden Raven?” Yukiya asked lightly.

He expected evasion. The answer, when it came, was unexpectedly direct.

“Honestly, I don’t care,” Aotsugu said. “So long as the Souke family fulfills its usual role, that is sufficient for me.” He sighed. “Perhaps this will sound foolish or disrespectful, but I believe that the Golden Raven is mostly irrelevant. His ability to rule is dependent on the people he has around him. I care more about that. If those people are incompetent, Yamauchi will suffer for it. Panic over the succession helps no one.”

Yukiya considered the previous Lord of Touke, Aotsugu’s father. When Nazukihiko and Natsuka had fought over the succession, the Touke family had remained completely neutral. No matter which side prevailed, they would not lose, but they hadn’t gained anyone’s trust that way. Their position in the Imperial Court was built upon stable neutrality.

Aotsugu claimed to think differently from his father. The difference, if there was one, was this: his father had been almost entirely unreadable, his expression a pleasant fixed surface that never shifted. Aotsugu’s face gave away more information than his father’s did.

“His Imperial Majesty was feared to be a simpleton and a madman before his enthronement, and yet he has become a very capable ruler,” Aotsugu said. “A person’s qualities are not knowable until they take the role prepared for them. A tyrant of the worst kind would be different, of course, but we have not suffered an emperor like that for generations.

“The old guard within the Imperial Court are stubborn. They will make things difficult for no good reason. A female Golden Raven is not a bad idea, in and of itself. The princess is exceedingly—” He paused, hand-selecting every word. “—well-suited for the role. I would prefer to serve someone with genuine qualities. The Touke family shall support her claim.”

Yukiya remained silent for a long while, thinking. The Four Families all had blood ties to the Souke family. Trace any of the Four Families far enough back, and their family trees would intertwine with the first Golden Raven’s. What mattered most was not close kinship to the current Golden Raven, but who that Golden Raven trusted most. If Touke declared open support for Shion’s ascension, that would be significant.

Something about this entire situation was off. Touke never declared for a side openly. The Golden Raven had worried about bringing them in as allies when he was young precisely because of their historical fickleness. Why was Aotsugu saying this now?

“Why are you telling me this?” Yukiya asked.

Aotsugu smiled, amused. “I intend to make the most of what my father’s generation built, but I have no intention of doing things the same way he did. I don’t think his methods suit present conditions in the Imperial Court.”

“You don’t?”

“Yamauchi’s collapse is imminent,” the Lord of Touke said. “If we keep making careful, conservative moves, we will not be able to protect ourselves. Or others.” He looked up at the moon. “Our responsibilities are growing—not just Touke’s, but all of the other families’ obligations as well. We are using more materials and more manpower than we have in living memory. Stable governance as we have known it can no longer be assumed for the future.” He spoke with careful precision. There was not a shred of pity or self-doubt in his tone. “I am the Lord of Touke. I am responsible for my family and my people. If I wait and watch as we have done, sooner or later I will have waited too long. It is time for me to act.”

The Four Families preserved a veneer of respectability and pretended that their power was evenly balanced, but that had never been the case. The Four Families were in competition with one another and with Souke. That was how things had always been. Even now, with the coming crisis demanding unity, the Four Families persisted in their historical enmity.

“Touke waited and watched because we could not afford to lose in the past. If I judge that not acting is the greater risk, I will act to the extent that I can.” His smile was cold and ruthless. “Invite the Four Families to comment on Shion’s ascension among themselves and see what happens. It will be a disaster. We do not have time for that. If no new child is born to His Imperial Majesty, Shion will have to brace herself and take on his responsibilities at great personal risk to herself.”

Yukiya drank his rice wine.

“What do you think will happen?” Lord Aotsugu asked.

Yukiya frowned slightly. There was no fault in the Lord of Touke’s reasoning, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of wrongness he’d experienced before. The Touke family never took a side. It simply was not done. They were always on their own side, and no one else’s.

“It’s fine if you don’t trust me,” Lord Aotsugu said absently. “I have said what I needed to say.” He glanced at Yukiya sidelong, and his expression shifted, becoming serious. “What is it that you want to protect? The princess, or Yamauchi?”

“Why ask that?”

“It is an important distinction, I believe. I’ve shown you my cards, as the saying goes. I would like to see yours now.”

“I believe that protecting Shion is the same as protecting Yamauchi. There is no material difference.”

Aotsugu lifted one eyebrow curiously. “What kind of person is Her Imperial Highness, in truth?”

“She is intelligent, kind, and deeply considerate. She is a diligent worker and cares about others.”

“Do you believe that she will make a good ruler? If Shion becomes the next Golden Raven, would you support her wholeheartedly?”

It was clear that this was the question Aotsugu had wanted to ask from the start. He leaned forward eagerly to hear the answer.

“That is my intention, yes,” Yukiya said.

Aotsugu set his cup down. The tension went out of his shoulders as he said, “In that case, I will have no misgivings about her rule.” He chuckled nastily. “I would prefer not to have you as my enemy.” He gave Yukiya a conspiratorial look. “Forgive my impertinence, but I believe that you and I are somewhat alike.”

That last remark made Yukiya feel as slimy and slippery as a venomous swamp snake. “I shall take that as a compliment.”

“That is how it was intended, for the most part.” He smiled again.

Yukiya despised that smile. Lord Aotsugu wasn’t wrong about their similarities, but their methods couldn’t be more different.

“It is difficult to make friends while playing the game of politics as we do, don’t you agree?” Aotsugu asked in an ingratiating tone.

“I have friends,” Yukiya said curtly.

“Had, rather. The late Shigemaru of the Yamauchishu was your friend, was he not?”

Yukiya remained silent.

“I have heard that he was a remarkable man,” Aotsugu said solemnly. He offered his condolences with obvious insincerity.

“He would like to be remembered that way,” Yukiya said quietly. “As remarkable.” His voice was low and colorless.

Aotsugu noticed that he’d made a mistake in bringing up Shigemaru. He cleared his throat. “I spoke out of turn. I apologize.”

Yukiya shook his head. “No need for that. In the great war, many Yatagarasu died who should not have.”

“Yamauchi remains safe because of the sacrifices of those heroes. I will do anything I must to defend Yamauchi. Don’t you feel the same, Lord Yukiya?”

Yukiya exhaled slowly. Lord Aotsugu was repeating his own position back to him… why?

“Yes,” Yukiya said.

“I am glad we were able to speak like this.” Aotsugu appeared genuinely relieved. “Please convey to His Imperial Majesty the Golden Raven that the Lord of Touke supports his plan. I will make my stance public when the time is right, but he should know as soon as possible.”

“Very well. I shall relay your message.”

Shion was waiting for him. Yukiya set down his cup and was about to take his leave when Aotsugu stopped him.

“There is someone who wishes to see you before you leave.”

Yukiya raised an eyebrow.

Aotsugu clapped his hands with a self-satisfied expression. A woman emerged from behind a wide stone pillar. She stepped forward reluctantly with her eyes on the ground.

Yukiya thought this was some kind of trick at first, but then he recognized the woman.

“Do you remember me?” she asked dully.

Yukiya nodded. “Koume.”

Yukiya hadn’t seen her for more than a decade. She’d vanished without a trace shortly after her mother’s arrest for multiple murders and collusion with the Kuisaru.

Aotsugu suggested that they should take a walk together.

Yukiya frowned, but he agreed to accompany Koume for a short stroll in the garden.

***

Koume and Yukiya went to the south garden together. The sun had set, but the spring air held the warmth of the day still. The moonlight was bright enough to illuminate the ground beneath their feet. The garden was full of blooming white azaleas, growing so densely in places that they seemed to generate their own soft light.

They walked through the garden without hurrying, speaking only a few words. It had been fifteen years since Yukiya had last seen Koume. He’d first encountered her during the Kuisaru invasion, when Yamauchi was overrun by monsters that consumed the flesh of Yatagarasu. His home village in Taruhi Province in Hokke Territory had come under threat, and dozens of villagers had been slaughtered in a smaller town to the north. Koume was the only survivor of that attack.

Her parents had been the architects of that attack. They’d betrayed their own kind to the Kuisaru for money. Her father had been flayed alive by a group of ruffians. His body was found hanging from the bridge at the Central Gate in Yamauchi’s capital. Her mother, who had actually led the Kuisaru into Yamauchi, had stabbed the Golden Raven—then still the crown prince—with a butcher knife. She had been beheaded for her crimes, and her belongings were confiscated. Koume had barely escaped being made into a horse. She had been cast out with nothing.

Koume didn’t look at Yukiya directly when she spoke. When she bowed her head again—she had done it several times tonight already—her sleeve caught the branch of a snow willow tree, and petals fell softly beneath her feet.

“I am sorry for disappearing the way I did,” Koume said quietly.

“I was worried about that,” Yukiya said. “Why did you do it? You could have spoken to me, or to anyone else.”

For much of the past decade, he had been preoccupied with Shion’s care and had no capacity for personal matters beyond that. Koume had slipped away unnoticed. By the time he had asked Hokke Territory officials to search for her, she was in the wind.

“I would not be so shameless,” Koume said tightly. She lifted her head. There were tears in her eyes that didn’t fall. The upward slant at the outer corners of her eyes was the same as it had always been. Her kittenish quality was gone; she had grown into a composed, quiet woman.

“My mother stabbed Crown Prince Nazukihiko. That is an unforgivable crime. I no longer had any place in the world after that.”

She said that even after finding refuge in Touke Territory, she had felt the weight of what her mother had done for many years. She didn’t know how to apologize for an act like that. She had simply lived with the knowledge that she could never be forgiven.

“I am indebted to Lady Azusa for her care and concern. Is she doing well?” Koume asked.

“Yes, she is the same as ever.”

Azusa had admonished Yukiya severely when he’d suspected Koume of involvement with the Kuisaru invasion. She’d always been kind to Koume.

“I’m glad to hear it. I am also glad to see you well, Lord Yukiya.”

“Mother has worried about you this whole time,” Yukiya said.

Koume stood up straighter. “Really?”

“Yes.”

There was a brief silence. Then Koume asked, “May I come to pay my respects to Lady Azusa someday?”

Yukiya’s shoulders relaxed. “Sure. I’m certain she wouldn’t mind.”

Koume bowed her head with visible relief. “My work in Touke Territory is well-regarded,” she said. “I have been offered a position going forward at the Touke family’s residence in Souke Territory.” She added that since she would be working in Lord Aotsugu’s household, they would likely cross paths again.

“I don’t know how much I can do, but I am honored to serve the Lord of Touke and his family. I would like to atone as best I can for the crimes of my parents.” She looked down again.

Yukiya walked beside her past the white azaleas and thought about the changes wrought by time. They were both much older than they’d been. The thought was not unpleasant, just true.

***

By the time Yukiya returned to the shrine, it was full dark. He left his horse in the courtyard and went quickly to Princess Shion’s room. The lights had been put out.

“Your Imperial Highness.”

Shion was awake. She sat on the moonlit veranda, waiting. When she saw him approaching through the garden, she smiled.

“Welcome back.”

“I’m sorry it took so long.”

The princess showed no sign of resentment or impatience.

Yukiya wished he’d come back sooner.

Akane was asleep on a futon near Shion. Kikuno dozed in a chair nearby. Around them, souvenirs from the festival were scattered in disorderly piles. He’d already been told that Akane and Kikuno had gone to the festival. Only Shion had remained in the shrine, waiting for him to return.

Yukiya tried to imagine what it had been like, watching Akane come back carrying armfuls of things she had bought and saying nothing about it.

Talking with Aotsugu had been useful. That conversation was worth something, but it wasn’t worth Shion’s disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Shion shook her head.

“It was your duty to go, Yuki.” She smiled, and that made Yukiya feel worse than if she’d struck him.

“If you’d like… would you come with me to see the cherry blossoms? Tonight?” he asked, regret shoving aside caution in its haste. He could scarcely believe what he’d said.

Shion stared at him with her mouth slightly open. “Now?” she asked.

“Now.”

“With you?”

“Yes.”

He was fully aware that this wouldn’t be permitted. If the Golden Raven were here, he would likely issue commands to prevent it. But he didn’t care. He’d found a beautiful place while scouting the area earlier, and he believed that Shion deserved to see it.

Halfway up Mt. Hana was a magnificent ancient cherry tree. It grew in a clearing well away from the road to the shrine. It was easy to reach in raven form during the day, but finding it at night would be somewhat difficult. At this hour, no one would bother going so far out of their way to view the tree. When he had seen it, he had thought it was a hidden gem. He hadn’t considered bringing Shion to see it at the time.

If something happened, if they were found, if any of a number of things went wrong… any other guard or attendant who did this would be severely rebuked. Yukiya wondered if the Golden Raven had felt this way as a young man while slipping away from his attendants, which was something he’d done often.

“We’re really going?” Shion asked. She was on her feet, face shining.

“Incognito.”

“Yes, incognito. Of course. Father was good at that, wasn’t he? He did it many times, so he won’t be mad at me.”

Her logic was not reasonable in the slightest, but Yukiya didn’t have the heart to contradict her. He started arranging luggage on her futon to look like a sleeping person. This was a trick the Golden Raven had used so often during his days as the crown prince that it could be described as a signature move. Yukiya had never imagined he would one day be teaching it to the man’s daughter, and yet here he was, and he had to admit that he was enjoying himself. In all his years of service, he had never done anything quite so reckless.

It had been a day of surprises. He’d never expected to see Koume again. He hadn’t meant to keep Shion waiting while meeting with the Lord of Touke. He felt a little like his younger self, who had moved in dangerous circles without a care for his own safety. He’d had so few responsibilities then.

Yukiya wrapped Shion in a quilt against the cold and carried her out of the room silently. As they sneaked past guards, he called out from behind a tree, “The princess has fallen asleep. Keep watch as normal. I’ll return shortly.”

A guard whispered, “Understood,” and then they were free from surveillance.

The princess suppressed laughter as they walked.

Yukiya wished that he could be just as amused, but he was now the princess’ only guard. He worried about being followed or discovered and picked up the pace. He was ignoring security protocols. If the worst should happen, he’d have to surrender his sword.

He was steely calm as he made his way stealthily through trees. He couldn’t undo what he’d already done. All he could do now was keep going and hope for the best.

Let them try to punish me. I won’t let them. I won’t let anyone.

Yukiya’s borrowed horse was waiting in the carriage yard where he’d left it. The horse looked at the princess with friendly curiosity.

Shion bowed her head to the horse. “I’m pleased to see you again,” she said brightly.

Yukiya adjusted the horse’s tack with a suppressed smile, seated her first, and then swung up behind her.

“Your Imperial Highness, have you ridden before?”

“I’ve ridden Kuro a few times.”

Kuro was the Golden Raven’s horse from his days as the crown prince. He had been a wild thing in his youth, all teeth, but he had mellowed considerably with age. Shion was a particular favorite of his.

Unfortunately, Yukiya was not and had never been the horse’s favorite. Kuro reveled in making his life difficult and snapped at him whenever he got too close. Yukiya had borrowed him for this expedition to Touke Territory because he had no horse of his own.

“Hold on tight. Here we go!”

Yukiya drew the princess close so that she wouldn’t fall, and then they took flight. The wind was freezing cold, for all that it smelled of flowers. Yukiya’s eyes stung, but his vision wasn’t affected much.

Shion opened her eyes wide and looked down, taking in the sight of the world below them with excitement and awe.

Bonfires burned at the foot of the mountain, scattered like embers. In the moonlight, the surrounding slopes glowed a deep red. The azaleas were in full bloom across the mountainside, every bush blossoming at once. The sound of music carried on the wind. Costumed figures danced in the firelight.

Tonight’s moon was exceptionally large. The seasonal mist should have made it hazy, but it was unusually bright, its light crisp and precise. The mountain peak, bathed in moonlight, looked almost like it was tipped with new snow.

The cherry tree was exactly where Yukiya remembered it, halfway up the slope. Coming nearer, he saw that there was a clear space near the base of the tree. He directed the recalcitrant horse to land there. The situation was better than he had hoped; he and the princess should be able to visit and leave without trouble.

Kuro descended, his wingtips brushing the lowest branches of the cherry tree. Petals burst upward and whirled in all directions. By the time they landed, petals were pouring down on them.

Shion pointed up. “Yuki, look! They sparkle!”

The falling petals caught the moonlight like shattered glass, white and sharp. Shion stretched both hands out as far as they would go, reaching for them, and the soft petals slipped through her fingers.

Yukiya caught a petal and held it out to her. She received it in both palms as if it were precious.

He helped her down from the horse. The ground under the tree was gnarled with roots and uneven, and the air was unpleasantly chilly here. He took the princess’ hand so she wouldn’t fall, and they walked slowly toward the trunk of the ancient tree.

The moonlight that pierced through the falling petals made the ground appear slightly green. Shadows were dark and deep. The tree’s branches swayed in the wind that stirred the fallen petals on the ground. The scent of the cherry tree was sweet and commingled with the perfumes of many other flowers blooming on Mt. Hana.

Yukiya remembered that Shion had asked for flowers as souvenirs. An azalea bush was blooming near the base of the cherry tree. He picked a flower and tucked it behind her ear, his fingertips brushing her earlobe. She was so small, like a tiny doll.

“Thank you, Yuki!” She beamed up at him.

I can’t leave her alone like that again, Yukiya thought. Never again. But then he second-guessed himself. Shion was a beloved figure to her guards and attendants. His absences shouldn’t cause her much distress.

Yukiya wanted Shion to be happy. He doubted that he could make sure that she was, but he’d try as best he could. Every future he anticipated was bleak and difficult. Shion would do her utmost to change the world for the better, but like him, she was limited by circumstances. The mountain god’s realm was closed, and the god’s power was waning rapidly. One day, Shion would grow up and be weighed down by cares and stuffy ceremonial dress.

Shion often spent her days in Shion Temple’s medicinal gardens, picking herbs in comfortable clothes. Why couldn’t the rest of her life be like that? An ordinary life would suit her fine. She could get married and have children as she chose. She would have more control over her future circumstances as a commoner.

But she wasn’t a commoner. She would be the next Golden Raven. That meant she would have few choices about her own life.

“Your Imperial Highness,” Yukiya said hesitantly. “Are you afraid?”

“Of what?”

“Of becoming the next Golden Raven.”

“No,” she said without hesitation. “My father is the Golden Raven, and my mother and you and everybody will be with me. I’m not scared. I won’t be.”

Yukiya wanted to cry, but he absolutely could not cry. Never. Not in front of her. He’d always cared for her, but he’d never considered that the regard might be mutual to this degree. She was so brave and still so ignorant. He wanted to shield her from the terrible futures he foresaw, because she deserved to be happy.

“Thank you, Yuki. It’s beautiful,” Shion said with passionate sincerity.

“It is I who must thank you,” Yukiya said. “I would never have come here tonight if not for you.”

She looked up at the branches of the gnarled, ancient tree. “We should come back next year,” she said. “Can we?”

Yukiya was about to say yes when he remembered. That’s right. I haven’t told her.

“There is something that I must report to Your Imperial Highness,” Yukiya said.

She turned away from the tree to look at him. Petals fell into her hair, and her eyes caught the moonlight.

“It has been decided that I will go to the human world, and soon.”

Shion’s dreamy smile vanished in a flash.

“His Imperial Majesty believes that seeing it directly, with my own eyes, will serve an important purpose in the days ahead.”

She didn’t look sad, exactly. Her thinking face was like her father’s: calm and unruffled. “You will be away for a long time,” she said.

“I don’t know how long. But I will not be able to come and go as I have until now.”

Shion summoned her smile again with visible effort. It was not her happy, genuine smile, but the one she wore when she needed to attend court ceremonies. Her eyes were clear.

“It is an honorable duty. Learn well as always. Many people rely on you.”

Yukiya bowed his head. “I do not wish you to be lonely,” he said.

“I’ll only be a little lonely,” she said dismissively. Her polished smile was like a rictus.

“No, Your Imperial Highness. Not just a little.” Later, Yukiya would ask himself why he’d said this, and he would not have an answer even for himself.

She blinked.

“I will be terribly lonely, even if you won’t be,” Yukiya said.

Understanding dawned on her face, and her smile became real. “Really?”

He nodded.

They sat for a little while under the cherry tree, talking and laughing in the gentle spring night.

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