Yatagarasu Series 8 - The Raven's Reminiscence - Part 4 - A Glorious Death

 

Yatagarasu Series

Volume 8: 

The Raven's Reminiscence

Author: Abe Chisato

Part 4: A Glorious Death

Takimoto’s name at birth was Taki. She was the illegitimate child of a Nanke nobleman and a commoner maid. Her parents died when she was very young. The Fujimiyaren of Sakura Palace took her in and trained her, giving her a new life and a new purpose.

The Fujimiyaren served the empress with single-minded devotion. By her command, they acted as guards for imperial princesses, consorts, and those of similar standing. The empress, in her mercy, took in girls who had no family family and raised them in exchange for their willingness to train in martial arts and protect the empress in the Imperial Palace.

The empress Takimoto served was not merciful, but ruthlessly practical. Takimoto had never been asked for her opinion on such things.

When Natsumihiko, the crown prince at the time, entered Sakura Palace, Takimoto was appointed by the empress to serve as one of his guards. The duchesses who had come as potential brides for the crown prince that year were Ukigumo of Touke, Yūsemi of Nanke, Izayoi of Saike, and Mutsu no Hana of Hokke.

Takimoto had originally served Natsumihiko’s mother, a former lady-in-waiting who had become a consort at the empress’s recommendation. She had been a quiet woman who’d never overstepped her own precarious place in the Imperial Court. Her son had inherited something of that quality. He was shy and delicate, fond of poetry and a lover of music. His mother’s low status and his position as the youngest prince made it so that he’d never been expected to become the crown prince. All of his elder brothers had come to some misfortune or other, and their misfortune became his. Natsumihiko was never supposed to rule, and he wasn’t prepared for the responsibility in any way that mattered.

Takimoto suspected that neither Natsumihiko nor his mother wanted him to come to power, but she was never asked for her opinion on this, either, and she never spoke about that to anyone.

If someone had asked Takimoto who would make a suitable match for Natsumihiko, she would have said Mutsu no Hana, the Hokke duchess. Mutsu no Hana was modest, sincere, and loyal; she would have brought her family’s military support to the emperor’s cause. Izayoi also struck Takimoto as suitable; she appeared gaudy at first glance but had a genuine and nurturing personality. Takimoto thought that she would make an excellent mother.

Unfortunately, Natsumihiko fell in love at first sight with Ukigumo of Touke and barely noticed that the other duchesses existed.

Ukigumo was strikingly beautiful. Her black hair was long and glossy. Her large eyes shone like spring water catching sunlight. She was prone to pretty blushes that stained her cheeks peach pink. Her smile was unguarded and bright. She was also exceptionally skilled at playing instruments and singing. She and Natsumihiko got along well from their first meeting.

Even so, Takimoto had never liked Ukigumo. The girl was difficult to read and too soft around the edges, like something malformed. It was impossible to tell what she was really thinking.

Izayoi was also a remarkable beauty, but Natsumihiko found her slightly intimidating. Mutsu no Hana, charming as she was, never attracted so much as a sliver of Natsumihiko’s attention.

But the duchess that Natsumihiko disliked the most was Yūsemi of Nanke.

Yūsemi’s birth and education were correct in all respects, but she was not beautiful. Her face was all angles and her cheeks were hollow. She was a typical Nanke scion: all practicality, no frivolities. She held herself like an empress. When she spoke, she expected immediate obedience. She was, in almost every visible quality, the opposite of Ukigumo.

For the entirety of the Rite of Ascension, Natsumihiko avoided Yūsemi deliberately. He had never sought her company before she entered Sakura Palace, either. Takimoto thought that he was afraid of her.

His wariness, as it turned out, was entirely justified. The empress at the time was of the Nanke family, and she put her full support behind Yūsemi.

One day, Natsumihiko was on his way to visit Ukigumo as usual, skipping lightly along the corridor surrounded by Fujimiyaren.

Without warning, ladies-in-waiting serving in the Summer Hall, where the Nanke duchess lived, attacked him.

“Takimoto, help me!” With his mouth covered and both arms pinned, Natsumihiko had looked toward Takimoto with hope in his eyes.

Takimoto had not moved.

When the order had first reached her, Takimoto had doubted the empress’s sanity. But she was of the Fujimiyaren. She could not defy the empress’s command.

Seeing Takimoto standing rigid and still, Natsumihiko’s expression had crumpled. How else could he interpret her actions but as betrayal? She’d known him since his earliest childhood, and she had been commanded not to help him.

A sound like a stifled sob echoed in the corridor. He fought against the hands holding him with everything he had, but Natsumihiko was no warrior. He was dragged into the Summer Hall without ceremony, and the doors slammed shut behind him.

After that incident, Natsumihiko shut himself in the Sun Palace. Yūsemi claimed that she was pregnant from her single interaction with him.

If Natsumihiko had not agreed to marry Yūsemi shortly after, Takimoto was convinced that the empress would have had him dragged into the Summer Hall as many times as it took to gain his compliance. The empress of the Nanke family wanted an heir she could fully control. Natsumihiko had never been free to choose.

As a result, Yūsemi became the Princess of Sakura Palace. The other three duchesses returned to their families. In due time, a healthy prince was born: Natsuka. Everyone expected that he would be Yamauchi’s next crown prince.

Before long, Natsumihiko ascended the throne as the Golden Raven. Yūsemi became his empress, and Takimoto was promoted to the empress’ security detail.

“You would do well to apply yourself,” Yūsemi had said to her. “I shall reward your loyalty.” Even as a young woman, she’d possessed an intimidating presence. Takimoto had stood before her, feeling a chill spread through her whole body. She had bowed respectfully, but with no conviction. She hadn’t chosen to serve Yūsemi. Yūsemi had usurped the role of another.

Takimoto had dim memories of the empress who’d taken pity on her and accepted her into the Fujimiyaren. She had rarely seen that empress in person. By the time she joined the Fujimiyaren, the veterans held sway in the empress’ household. She had grown skilled at acting loyal without being so. Neither of the empresses she’d served had reason to question her competence.

She had no particular desire for romance or marriage. She also had no desire to leave the Imperial Court to live as a commoner. Her life as a Fujimiyaren was largely satisfying to her. There was occasional danger, but most days were perfectly peaceful. If her loyalty was more like a garment that could be put on and taken off at will, no one else needed to know that.

Takimoto had been promoted to a higher rank over time. She’d started out serving a powerless concubine, then the mother of the crown prince, and after that she’d served the new empress for many years. She appeared quite capable and talented from the outside, but the truth was that she’d never chosen any of the mistresses she’d served. She’d been swept along by circumstances for her entire life. She had never deliberately acted to change her own role or status.

Yūsemi as empress was no better than anyone else she had served, and in some ways she was far worse. The previous empress had been difficult to anticipate, but Yūsemi’s motives were laughably obvious. It was plain from the start that she favored her younger brother, Tōru, to a ridiculous degree. He softened her from a practical statue to simple and unassuming young woman. She smiled at his letters and brightened whenever they met in person. She did everything she could to support his endeavors.

Takimoto had never been in love with anyone, but she had experience talking to other Fujimiyaren who had. Married Fujimiyaren were invariably dismissed by Yūsemi. Those who forgot their position and took lovers in secret struck Takimoto as foolish, but she was appalled by Yūsemi’s casual dismissal of her own guards. Yūsemi kept no married Fujimiyaren because she was jealous and afraid that a married woman’s loyalty would be to her husband, not to her. It was an entirely selfish reason to deprive so many women of their livelihoods.

After she figured out Yūsemi’s motives, Takimoto’s service to the empress was reduced to nothing but an exercise in the patient indulgence of her childish whims and desires. In public, Yūsemi was a flawless empress—composed and commanding, her position would only grow more unshakable over time. Takimoto shared in the advantages of proximity to her. She often found her service somewhat silly, but she didn’t suffer.

But even cliffs a thousand feet high could crumble from an ant making a hole in the wrong place.

The first crack in the cliff face came from an unexpected direction.

Natsumihiko took a consort and fathered another child without Yūsemi’s permission—or permission from anyone else, for that matter. The mild-mannered emperor showed some signs of having a spine. His partner in this act of rebellion was not Ukigumo of Touke, with whom he had been obsessed, but Izayoi of Saike.

After his son Natsuka was born, Yūsemi had paid no further attention to her husband, assuming he was incapable of much of anything. She had been wrong. Natsumihiko had never forgotten what had been done to him. He had exchanged secret messages with Ukigumo for years after his marriage. But Ukigumo had married another man, and the heartbroken Natsumihiko had turned to Izayoi for comfort.

What Yūsemi had once done to Natsumihiko had been done to her in secret. That secret came to light when another son, Nazukihiko, was born.

And then Nazukihiko was declared a true Golden Raven by the White Raven and Yamauchi’s priests.

Yūsemi panicked. She tried to have Nazukihiko removed from the imperial succession, but that was impossible. She purged his supporters desperately without any regard for appearances. She believed that Nazukihiko was in the way, so it was only right for her to kill him.

Nazukihiko was far from the first rival that Yūsemi had attacked over the years. Many of her political rivals died by poison. She set traps—physical and social—for people she disliked as a warning. Sometimes, she compelled attendants who knew too much to kill themselves to conceal her secrets. She left no evidence, but people knew how she behaved anyway. Even Tōru, the younger brother she doted on, and her own son, who was raised by his grandfather, absolutely detested her.

Takimoto continued to follow her orders. She didn’t like her duties, but she knew how to obey, so she did. Perhaps Yūsemi sensed her lack of true loyalty, because one day, she received a message that she’d been reassigned to the household of Princess Fujinami, Nazukihiko’s younger sister.

By this time, Izayoi had died—likely via assassination. She was survived by her two children, who would presumably suffer the same fate as her in due course.

***

Several names were put forward as candidates for the role of personal attendant to Princess Fujinami. Ukigumo, who had become a concubine of the Lord of Touke, Mutsu no Hana, who had married into a branch family of Hokke, and Yūniji, wife of the Lord of Nanke, were shortlisted for the role. Princess Fujinami’s appointed personal attendant would be in charge of her education and socialization.

Takimoto experienced an instant headache when she learned this. Ukigumo was out of the question for personal as well as educational reasons; Takimoto opposed her appointment to the role wholeheartedly. Mutsu no Hana had to bow out due to illness; she had recently given birth. That left only Yūniji.

And then Izayoi died.

Izayoi’s death was anticlimactic in the worst possible way. The official cause of death given was poor postpartum recovery. In reality, she had been poisoned. Yūniji of Nanke was blamed for her death. Takimoto suspected that Yūsemi had been the mastermind of the plot.

Elevating someone from the Nanke family by installing Yūniji as Fujinami’s personal attendant should have suited Yūsemi’s purposes, but Yūsemi didn’t care about Izayoi or Yūniji. Takimoto had already seen her dismiss capable subordinates out of jealousy. Going out of her way to destroy Yūniji simply because she disliked her was consistent with everything she knew of Yūsemi’s character.

Takimoto neither knew nor wished to know who was truly responsible for Izayoi’s death. Experience had taught her that such knowledge was dangerous. She knew that Izayoi was dead, leaving baby Princess Fujinami behind. Yūniji had fallen from any position of influence due to her presumed involvement in Izayoi’s death.

Ukigumo had taken the role of Fujinami’s personal attendant more or less by default. This role was traditionally an honorary post. Women of lower standing almost always did the daily work of educating and caring for the infant princess.

Consequently, Takimoto found herself appointed as the de facto education attendant for the Princess Fujinami.

At the time, ignoring custom, the Saike family had claimed that they would adopt Princess Fujinami. The empress, who disliked complications, intended to keep Princess Fujinami under her own aegis, alive but contained.

The chick that Takimoto went to serve couldn’t even take human form yet. She’d been wrapped in clean swaddling clothes the grayish color of ink wash. Her feathers grew sparsely, and her wide-open mouth was a deep, deep red.

Nobles were extremely reluctant to take raven form, and even more reluctant to be seen that way. The comfort of being tucked beneath a parent’s warm feathers was not available to Fujinami as a tiny chick. No one in the Imperial Palace could offer that without it being taken as an act of disrespect towards Princess Fujinami.

Takimoto had been involved in raising the young Natsumihiko, but she had only done what others told her to. Before helping with Natsumihiko, Takimoto had no experience with rearing children at all. There had been an experienced mother present then along with other women with knowledge of infants. Now there was no one with that knowledge aside from her. She felt completely confused as she lifted Princess Fujinami into her arms for the first time.

An elderly maid came to Takimoto’s rescue without being asked. She had raised several children of her own and had experience as a wet nurse in a noble household in Nanke Territory. None of the young Fujimiyaren serving under Takimoto knew anything about caring for infants. Following the maid’s direction, they found themselves frantically feeding the princess and cleaning up her waste, working through the night.

The small chick chirped continuously and ate prodigious amounts regardless of the hour. Takimoto collapsed face-down on the floor, utterly depleted, whenever the tyrannical infant slept, which was not often.

“Is it normal for her to chirp this much?” Takimoto asked the maid.

“It isn’t normal,” the maid said flatly.

Takimoto shuddered. “Is she unwell?”

“It isn’t that.” The maid paused. “At this age, she would normally be kept warm beneath her mother’s feathers. She would feel safe. Her mother is gone, and no one here can make her feel safe.”

Takimoto said nothing.

“Her Imperial Highness is lonely,” the maid said.

The chick was sleeping with her bright blue eyelids closed. She appeared to be operating purely on instinct. It was difficult to believe she was capable of loneliness. A warming stone had been placed beneath her. Takimoto prayed that she would grow up healthy.

The maid shook her head slightly. “I’m just a maid. I can’t remain here indefinitely. It would be far better for Her Imperial Highness to have someone who can be with her as a substitute for her mother.”

“If you mean her personal attendant, that would be Ukigumo of the Touke family.”

“That isn’t what I mean at all.” The maid looked at Takimoto with a troubled expression. “I mean that she needs a dependable ally who will stay by her side. Someone she can feel safe with.”

Takimoto panicked. “That isn’t me,” she said.

Princess Fujinami was in a delicate position. Who knew how long Takimoto would be assigned to her? She didn’t want to cause further problems for Princess Fujinami down the line by becoming her ally and supporter now.

“The only one who can be a substitute mother for Her Imperial Highness is you, Lady Takimoto,” the maid said.

“I’ve never given birth to a child.”

“That’s not a requirement.” The maid smiled. In the village where she was born, the entire village raised children together. Blood ties didn’t matter. Any woman even a little older than the chick was a stand-in mother; any man was a stand-in father. Parents weren’t required to give birth; they were only required to raise children.

The maid said as much. “There’s no difference between palace ravens and mountain ravens, really,” she said. “Every child needs parents. Most need more than two, but the only one who can stand in for Lady Fujinami’s birth mother is you, Lady Takimoto. Please treat her well.”

Takimoto was at a loss. She, an imperial princess’ mother? The idea was absurd. Besides, she would never be perceived as Fujinami’s mother socially. The chick’s lofty status was real enough, however, and Takimoto did not like to consider the consequences of that.

The maid was the only person who looked at Princess Fujinami and saw a chick in need of a mother. The other Fujimiyaren and ladies-in-waiting all treated her with fearful hesitance because of her title.

When the chick that the Fujimiyaren attended day and night became able to sit up and grasp a doll, every one of them cried out with joy. When she crawled, when she stood, and when she began to speak, her caretakers celebrated in the same way.

Over time, Takimoto started thinking of Princess Fujinami as the daughter she might never get to have. She was happy to see the princess grow and learn, but she was happier that she wouldn’t be blamed for any failures. The princess was a lively, healthy girl, and she would surely grow up without causing any problems for anyone.

Sensing Takimoto’s aloofness, Princess Fujinami clung to the maid and showed no sign of growing attached to Takimoto at all.

Something shifted after Fujinami had barely learned to walk. She was brought before Empress Oumurasaki for inspection shortly after she’d taken her first steps.

“I humbly offer my greetings to Empress Oumurasaki. I am Princess Fujinami.” The little princess stumbled over her words and only completed her polite greetings with careful prompting from Takimoto.

Even though she’d never met the empress before, Princess Fujinami was terribly nervous. It didn’t help that the empress was cold toward her.

Empress Oumurasaki asked after the princess’ health and told Fujinami that she looked well. Gratitude was expressed for her condescension to concern herself with Fujinami’s welfare. Courtly replies were made back and forth, with Fujinami frequently requesting help from Takimoto.

The audience didn’t last long, but it was an exhausting ordeal for Princess Fujinami. The moment they left the chamber, she grabbed hold of Takimoto’s leg with both hands and held on.

“Hey, Taki, can we go home now?” she asked, her eyes brimming with tears.

Princess Fujinami was an adorable child. This was the first time Takimoto had noticed.

Takimoto never really learned how to be Princess Fujinami’s mother, but she did want to help the young princess grow and learn. Watching her mature was satisfying in a way that she found difficult to describe.

There was a great deal an imperial princess needed to learn: how to conduct herself toward servants, how to carry herself when she walked, the bare minimum of formal learning in various subjects, etc.

There was no one to teach her these things but Takimoto. For Fujinami, time with Takimoto must have been painful more often than not.

Princess Fujinami made her wants and needs known as she grew older.

“I don’t want to do that.”

“I don’t like Takimoto.”

“I’ll do it later.”

She would spill ink deliberately, throw her brush, and commit small acts of willful mischief each day. Takimoto would encourage her to cease such behavior with words, but she never disciplined the princess. It was not her place to offer correction, only instruction.

That was an error, but Takimoto hadn’t known that at the time. She had never quite managed to build the relationship with Fujinami that the young princess needed.

***

As the years passed, Fujinami grew strangely attached to Ukigumo, the personal attendant she saw rarely.

After Fujinami was walking and talking, Ukigumo began meeting with Fujinami regularly as her appointed personal attendant. Ukigumo didn’t try to teach her anything, of course. She simply doted on her. Whatever selfish demand was made of Ukigumo, she would smile and indulge the princess. She bought sweet confections and let Fujinami play whatever games she wanted. She never once reproached her for any of the behaviors Takimoto normally forbade.

After Fujinami reached a certain age, Ukigumo began taking the princess to her residence.

Takimoto pushed back against this, of course. “There is no precedent for that. What will you do if something happens to her?”

Ukigumo simply smiled. “With a full Fujimiyaren escort present, nothing terrible will happen to her, surely. She’ll be perfectly safe. Besides, we can’t really stretch our wings inside the palace. We need freedom and fresh air.”

She put Fujinami in the carriage she’d arrived in and took her away to her own home, where she let the princess play with her daughter.

Ukigumo’s daughter was a lovely little girl who closely resembled her mother. The house was full of simple toys of the kind that a commoner child would like, piled in cheerful heaps. None of them were expensive, but that was why they were so attractive to Fujinami. It was not clear if Ukigumo’s daughter knew who Fujinami was or not, but she always welcomed the young princess warmly.

“She’s like my little sister,” Ukigumo’s young daughter said often.

The two of them played for as long as each visit lasted. They picked flowers in the garden together. They dressed tree branches in kimonos made of colored paper. They played house with bamboo bowls and cups. Ukigumo taught them both music, and they played concerts together. For Fujinami, whose daily life was relentlessly constrained in the Imperial Palace, these interludes must have felt like a dream.

The moment she was back in the palace, Fujinami would pester Takimoto to leave. “I want to go again. When can I see her next?”

“Not soon,” Takimoto would say. “It is dangerous to leave the palace. I hope you understand that.”

She didn’t, of course.

For her part, Takimoto was furious with Ukigumo. Ukigumo could afford to be free-spirited; the consequences of allowing that freedom fell on the Fujimiyaren who guarded her and the princess. If something happened to Princess Fujinami outside the palace, it was Takimoto who would face a reckoning, not Ukigumo.

Takimoto worried endlessly about poisonous insects. She worried about splinters from the roughly made toys.

Ukigumo always came back to fetch Fujinami and smiled as she repeated the same waking nightmare all over again.

More than physical dangers, Takimoto worried about Ukigumo’s influence. She had no idea who the princess spoke to at Ukigumo’s residence. Any number of people could be putting dangerous ideas in Princess Fujinami’s head, and no one would ever know aside from Fujinami and Ukigumo.

When Takimoto tried to ask Fujinami who she met and talked to at Ukigumo’s residence, the princess became enraged with her. “I’m not talking to anyone I shouldn’t talk to!” she said haughtily. She glanced sidelong at Takimoto. “Why do you hate me so much?”

Shock stunned Takimoto for a few seconds. “What are you saying? I don’t hate you—”

“Liar.” Fujinami’s expression was cruel and belittling. “You do nothing but bully me. I hate you,” she spat.

Takimoto’s cheeks warmed. She hadn’t felt so angry in years. She’d dedicated years of time and care to this little brat. Every decision made with Fujinami’s best interests in mind turned to dust in that instant.

Fujinami’s favoritism toward Ukigumo was the nail in the coffin of Takimoto’s good intentions. Ukigumo, who said and gave only sweet things and who never asked anything difficult of Fujinami, was the one she liked—perhaps even loved.

But Ukigumo had no sense of personal responsibility. She’d never worried for Fujinami’s safety a day in her life.

Takimoto felt betrayed to the core. The emotion went through her like a hand parting a column of smoke.

If Fujinami had been her actual child, she might have raised a hand to her then.

But Takimoto served Fujinami. She was not permitted to discipline her. Fujinami would never be Takimoto’s daughter.

Takimoto lowered her head and said, “My apologies, Your Imperial Highness.” She gave up on raising Fujinami then and there.

The gulf between her and Fujinami became a canyon that couldn’t be bridged after that.

Takimoto couldn’t remember what Fujinami had looked like that day after her apology. Had she been sad? Angry? Apologetic herself? Did it matter? She had been too preoccupied with her own feelings that day to notice anyone else’s. Takimoto told herself to be tolerant of the bad behavior of little children. Privately, she believed that Fujinami was delighted to be rid of her as a mother figure. Fujinami had never wanted Takimoto in her life.

Looking back, Takimoto realized that Fujinami had been testing boundaries. Fujinami had been curious how far she would be indulged—how much she would be permitted to do before she was punished.

And after she found that line, she crossed it. Just to see what would happen.

She had sought connection in that way, but Takimoto hadn’t realized that. She’d thought that Fujinami was just acting out. It was too late to repair the relationship after she understood things better.

Most of the time, Takimoto simply pretended there was no conflict between them. The canyon between them widened, but neither acknowledged it. They continued forward as they had been, awkwardly, with Fujinami as an imperial princess and Takimoto as the attendant appointed to serve her.

And so Imperial Princess Fujinami grew into an arrogant, self-willed, and perpetually anxious young woman.

***

Fujinami was, objectively, a pitiable girl. No one she was on a daily basis was her social equal. She was permitted to see Ukigumo, her favorite person, very rarely. Her role model was a manipulative and distant empress that she saw even less often. Princess Fujinami feared the empress greatly, though she never voiced her fears aloud. In Empress Oumurasaki’s presence, Fujinami never once said anything selfish or willful. She stayed still like a rabbit terrified of a predator.

Empress Oumurasaki, for her part, ignored Fujinami’s existence most of the time. She did not love her own husband, which had the odd effect of eliminating any potential jealousy. She had found Izayoi irritating on political grounds because of Nazukihiko, but Fujinami was Izayoi’s daughter and not a political threat. The two of them built a relationship that was oddly arid, neither warm nor hostile: a relationship of mutual disregard, sustained by infrequent proximity and maintained by caution.

But that relationship would change in subtle ways thanks to an unexpected catalyst.

Fujinami had only recently turned eight years old when word came that Nazukihiko was coming to visit his sister. He’d spent years studying abroad and planned to make his first formal visit to her.

Fujinami was strangely cheered by this news. Takimoto caught her smiling at odd times, though she was usually sullen.

Takimoto didn’t know what to make of this change.

Then one of the Fujimiyaren serving under her reported seeing a suspicious figure entering and leaving Fujinami’s rooms.

“A man has been coming to see her… you are certain?” Takimoto asked.

The Fujimiyaren nodded, her face tight with strain. “Princess Fujinami addresses that man as—” She hesitated. “She calls him her brother.”

“Her brother?” Takimoto thought of Natsuka first. “You mean her elder half-brother, Prince Natsuka?”

The Fujimiyaren shook her head. “Not Prince Natsuka. From what I could see, her visitor looked like her full brother, Nazukihiko.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Takimoto said sharply.

Nazukihiko was supposed to be studying abroad. If he’d returned, the entire Imperial Court would know it. The day had not arrived for his planned visit yet. The Gate of the Vermilion Bird was the only way to enter the human world from Yamauchi, and that gate’s access was entirely controlled by the Nanke family. The empress was always fully appraised of Nazukihiko’s whereabouts.

“He looked like him,” the Fujimiyaren said.

Takimoto thought about what she’d learned. If the person visiting Fujinami truly was Nazukihiko, then either the Nanke family’s control of the gate was considerably less thorough than they believed or there was a traitor in their midst.

From Empress Oumurasaki’s perspective, both possibilities required immediate countermeasures. She would be furious to hear of this, but it would be far better to report it now than to have it come to light later from some other source.

Before Takimoto went to report to the empress, she thought of one other possibility.

Nazukihiko was a true Golden Raven. If the rumors were true, he was able to enter Yamauchi from the human world without passing through the Gate of the Vermilion Bird.

Empress Oumurasaki had always insisted that it was impossible for Nazukihiko to be a true Golden Raven—that the retired emperor she despised and the White Raven of the Ministry of Divinity had conspired together to strip Natsuka of his inheritance on false pretenses. That was the story as she told it.

But if Nazukihiko truly was a true Golden Raven, then what? What if the retired emperor and the White Raven were correct?

Takimoto had a sudden premonition that the future Empress Oumurasaki had carefully planned out would not come to pass as she’d envisioned.

***

Empress Oumurasaki flew into a rage after she received Takimoto’s report.

She dispatched a messenger to the Nanke family immediately, ordering them to investigate security at the Gate of the Vermilion Bird. She also requested information about the movements of Nazukihiko. She wanted to know if he had re-entered Yamauchi without authorization. She decided to interrogate Princess Fujinami for good measure.

Fujinami was summoned to the Inner Palace without explanation. She arrived in a slightly disheveled and bewildered state with no idea why she’d been called. There had been no time for Takimoto to warn her.

Takimoto waited in a corner of the room and prayed that Fujinami would be spared the worst of the empress’ anger.

“Is it true that your brother has come to see you?” the empress asked icily.

Fujinami trembled from head to toe. Takimoto expected that reaction. Fujinami would likely shrink into herself and fumble over her words. She had never been a good liar.

“Um, I… I…” Fujinami’s cheeks flushed. Her mortification was not like that of a child caught in a lie. She looked like a young woman who’d just been caught staring at a potential admirer. Her embarrassment was girlish and a bit playful. She was probably less scared than she should be. “I… I don’t know,” she whispered. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, but they didn’t fall.

Her expression said more than words could.

Perhaps Empress Oumurasaki thought the same thing as Takimoto. She went quiet and stared hard at Fujinami for minutes that felt like hours.

Fujinami was happy about her brother’s visit. That much was impossible to misread.

The only man Princess Fujinami knew who’d been kind to her was her brother. The thought arrived in Takimoto’s mind accompanied by an unpleasant thump of her heart. Fujinami had never met any men at all aside from her distant father and her brother.

The blood drained from Takimoto’s face. Before her sense of ethics could reject what she was thinking, she feared that Empress Oumurasaki had already come to the same realization.

Fortunately, she was wrong. The empress didn’t understand Fujinami’s circumstances well enough to come to the correct conclusion.

“I see…” Empress Oumurasaki tilted her head slightly. She looked at Fujinami—trembling, scarlet-cheeked, and utterly transparent to her—and let out a long, slow breath.

“Leave us.”

Fujinami staggered away from the empress, barely keeping herself upright.

“Takimoto.”

Takimoto had been about to follow Fujinami. She halted in place and bowed to the empress.

Empress Oumurasaki watched Princess Fujinami’s retreating back as she walked away. When the girl was out of sight, she said, “Look after that child. Do it kindly.”

Takimoto blinked in disbelief. Empress Oumurasaki had never said anything like this to her before. A command to be kind was the last thing she’d expected the empress to say.

Takimoto trembled finely as she remembered the empress’ coldness toward her own son. She had never brought herself to be kind to him. Her command now must have some terrible ulterior motive.

Before today, Takimoto had not considered the empress to be a Yatagarasu like everyone else. The empress was more like a statue than a person. Only now did she realize that the empress’ petty cruelty and selfishness made her just as common as the lowest, most wretched peasant in all of Yamauchi.

“I shall,” Takimoto said. “As you command.” She wanted to obey. The feeling was new to her. She was used to obeying without emotion so that she wouldn’t have to be disappointed in herself.

***

From then on, Empress Oumurasaki showed concern for Fujinami almost every day. Takimoto had never expected such a thing to happen, and she decided to be grateful for it. She hoped that having a reliable presence like the empress in her life would soothe Princess Fujinami’s temper tantrums.

Far from being calmed or gratified by the empress’ attention, Princess Fujinami loathed the empress’ eyes on her. She went from a moody child to an unstable one almost overnight.

Years passed. The Rite of Ascension was drawing near. Nazukihiko would have to take a wife.

“Princess Fujinami, it can’t be helped,” Takimoto said softly to her moping charge.

“I know that!” Fujinami’s cheeks colored fiercely. “But I hate it!” She wept into her sleeve. “The duchesses coming to wed him are like the lying ladies in the Imperial Palace. They don’t care about my brother. They only see his position of power, just like how they see me. I’ll never have any friends at all.”

When she learned that Masuho no Susuki of Saike, one of the candidates for the Rite of Ascension, was supposedly devoted to Nazukihiko, Fujinami had a tempter tantrum that shook the walls.

“She’s an idiot. She has barely spent any time with my brother. I hate them all, every single one of them!” she fumed.

With her still-limited child’s vocabulary, Princess Fujinami did her utmost to hurl invective at her perceived enemies. The duchesses were all cruel people, she said, people without hearts. All her insults were couched in courtly language. It was strange to listen to her pour out her hate with such clumsiness.

“If only Ukigumo’s daughter could come instead…”

Takimoto’s eyebrows drew together. Fujinami wished Ukigumo’s daughter would come to the Rite of Ascension. The girl had been adopted into the Lord of Touke’s household as the second daughter. Fujinami had played with her frequently when they’d been young children.

The day that had driven a permanent wedge between Takimoto and Fujinami sat like an unsolvable knot in Takimoto’s heart.

“Duchess Futaba will be coming,” Takimoto said, rather more curtly than she’d intended.

Fujinami glared at her. “Out of all the people I have ever met, only you, Ukigumo, and my older brother ever looked at me as I am—as a person, not as an imperial princess. My brother is surrounded by enemies, just as I am. I want him to marry someone who will love him sincerely, for the person he is.” She said this with the firm conviction of a child.

Takimoto didn’t have the heart to tell her about Ukigumo’s true nature. To Fujinami, Ukigumo and her daughter were the keepers of a few precious and happy childhood memories. They were idealized beyond reason. Fujinami’s opinions of them had no basis in reality.

In the end, Ukigumo had been struck down by her own recklessness. A man she had toyed with one time too many had murdered her a few years ago. It had been a scandal, of course, and hastily hushed up by the empress’ command.

Takimoto had not found Ukigumo’s end particularly surprising. Ukigumo had always been thoughtless, and men had always been drawn to her. Natsumihiko was a case in point. It seemed that all of Ukigumo’s love affairs were doomed to end in failure.

The second duchess of Touke, Ukigumo’s daughter, was said to be like her in most ways. She would not be an honest and sincere young woman: that much Takimoto was sure of.

But if Takimoto said any of this aloud, Fujinami would only throw another fit, so she said nothing.

In the aristocratic society of Yamauchi, the difference in standing between a wife and a consort was unbridgeable. It was unlikely that the second duchess that Fujinami adored would ever come to the Imperial Court in any official capacity. After the Rite of Ascension was properly underway, her heart would be broken, but at least when it ended, Fujinami could give up on her twisted, childish hopes and move on with the rest of her life.

It did not take long for Takimoto to realize that this thinking was naïve on her part.

***

“Have you come to meet me? You are very kind. I am the second duchess of the Touke family.”

The second duchess of Touke smiled at Takimoto with undisguised delight. She was beautiful. The moment Takimoto saw her, a sense of déjà vu so powerful that it took her breath away overcame her.

The girl’s face was exactly like her mother’s, but she carried no trace of her mother’s guile in her eyes. Her light-pigmented hair—so fine that light passed through it with ease—framed her pink cheeks.

Ukigumo’s daughter—Fujinami’s bosom friend—had come to Sakura Palace for the Rite of Ascension. Her elder sister had bowed out at the last moment due to a sudden illness. This girl had come in her place. There was not the slightest shadow of haste in her manner. Her smile was like spring light filtering through new leaves, brightening every heart that witnessed it. The girl was thoroughly charming and lovable.

“We have come at the behest of Princess Fujinami,” Takimoto said, gesturing at the ladies-in-waiting around her. “Welcome to Sakura Palace, duchess of the Touke family. I am Takimoto.” She hoped the second duchess would not recognize her. Her spine ached from standing upright in the face of an old fear.

The memory that came back to her in that moment was the face of the raven-haired Ukigumo, who had captured Natsumihiko’s heart within moments of their first meeting. The presence of her daughter here could only be considered an ill omen.

Empress Oumurasaki met the second duchess and granted her the personal name of Asebi. Asebi was a flower that intoxicated base creatures like horses. The name’s insult was not subtle. It revealed that the empress felt similarly to Takimoto about the girl’s arrival in Sakura Palace.

Predictably, Fujinami became obsessed with Asebi.

“It was fate that things turned out this way. My brother should choose her,” Fujinami said.

Takimoto said nothing.

“No other woman will do. The rest of them think only about their families. They don’t care about him at all.”

On the night of the first formal greeting of the duchesses in Sakura Palace, Fujinami was so agitated that she delivered a passionate speech and quite embarrassed herself. Takimoto’s head began to ache before she had finished speaking.

“A person of your standing must not say such things. As an imperial princess of the main family, please fulfill your role and—”

Fujinami’s anger flared. “You don’t care about what I say, not really. You just don’t want to be scolded by Empress Oumurasaki. You don’t think about me at all.”

“Princess Fujinami—”

“Everyone who tries to curry favor with the Souke family is exactly like you.”

The insult hurt more than Takimoto thought it would.

“That is why someone with a pure heart, like Asebi, must be the one to enter the Imperial Court.”

Fujinami went on muttering to herself as she walked, not noticing that Takimoto had gone silent.

Takimoto nursed internal wounds and gave herself another. She’d never had an honest conversation with Fujinami, not even once. It was likely that she never would.

***

The Rite of Ascension was over.

Ukigumo’s daughter, Asebi, had made full use of Fujinami’s resources from the beginning to the end. The sincerity and pure-heartedness that Fujinami dreamed of had never existed. It was obvious that she had been used by someone she’d considered a friend, but she refused to admit it, even to herself.

“Why, why?!” Fujinami clutched her head and rocked back and forth to soothe herself. She was convinced that it was her fault that Nazukihiko hadn’t married Asebi.

It was an unfortunate accident. She had been trying to drive out a woman she believed would bring harm to Asebi. In her attempt to remove her from Sakura Palace, Fujinami had pushed her from a high place while she was still wearing her kimono. The woman was found at the bottom of the ravine, dead.

Fujinami hadn’t meant to kill her. Her only crime, if it could be called that, was her desperate wish to have Asebi enter the Imperial Palace. Her conduct was unbecoming of an imperial princess. She had not even known that a feather robe was necessary for safe transformation. She cared about her beloved brother’s safety and happiness; that was the only reason she’d acted. She had not plotted to kill anyone. She hated being a murderer. Nothing she had ever done was for herself alone. Everything was for Nazukihiko’s sake.

And her brother didn’t care about his younger sister’s feelings.

After the murder was solved, Nazukihiko cut her off. He condemned her actions and would not offer her so much as a single act of kindness or consideration.

Fujinami lost her mind.

Empress Oumurasaki took pity on Fujinami by sending her to a temple and having her take religious vows.

***

“What a quiet, pleasant place,” Takimoto said to Fujinami as she stepped out of the carriage.

Fujinami said nothing in reply.

The temple was small and surrounded by a well-kept garden. The indigo paint on the walls was old and peeling, but the temple’s interior was scrupulously clean.

Takimoto liked the temple almost immediately. It was nothing like the extravagant palace, but it was peaceful. She hoped that Fujinami could be happy here.

There were ten priestesses serving the mountain god in this temple. Their leader was very elderly. Takimoto became the de facto administrator of the temple shortly after her arrival because of her relative youth and experience. Takimoto’s rank in the Imperial Palace would never rise again, but she didn’t mind. In all honesty, she felt relieved.

Sakura Palace and the rest of the Imperial Court were in an uproar. Takimoto herself had been forced to kill a man: an intruder discovered in the Duchess of Saike’s rooms. Takimoto sincerely prayed that she would never have to kill again. Violence went against her conscience.

Takimoto was not loyal to Fujinami, exactly, but her life and the unfortunate princess’ were intertwined irrevocably now. Perhaps she and Fujinami would find joy in temple life.

Empress Oumurasaki didn’t harass them in the temple. She visited on occasion and brought beautiful gifts for Fujinami and the other priestesses. Takimoto never expected the empress to be kind and was always surprised to witness her solicitude. She and Fujinami would not live half as well in the temple without her unstinting generosity. Too late, Takimoto felt stirrings of loyalty toward her former mistress. She still didn’t like the empress, but she felt like she was in solidarity with the woman where Princess Fujinami was concerned.

Despite Takimoto’s attentiveness and Empress Oumurasaki’s consideration, Fujinami spent her days like a depressed wraith. She sat vacantly for long stretches or burst suddenly into tears and thrashed about. She was withdrawn and barely ate. She spent most of her time sleeping.

When Empress Oumurasaki learned of this, she sent over a new member of the Fujimiyaren to keep Fujinami company.

“I am Sawarabi. I have some knowledge of medicine, so I am sure I can be of use.”

Sawarabi was a mild-mannered woman in her thirties with fair skin and elegant manners. When she smiled, a dimple appeared in her left cheek. Something about her reminded Takimoto of Ukigumo and Asebi, whom Fujinami had loved. Takimoto fretted about a possible connection between Sawarabi and Asebi, but she held her tongue; she couldn’t go against the empress’ orders in any case.

Fujinami didn’t take to Sawarabi immediately, but she didn’t openly dislike her, either. After a few days spent in Sawarabi’s company, Fujinami started speaking and eating a bit more.

There were moments when Takimoto felt like everything she had done until now had been for nothing.

Sawarabi reassured her. “Your efforts have great meaning,” she said. “Princess Fujinami has always relied on you. I assist her with various things, but I am not first in her heart,” she said with characteristic modesty. “You have been looking after Princess Fujinami alone for so long. Perhaps you have both become set in your ways. Too much of anything is not good. Let all of us share the burden, and perhaps we can create a few changes for the better.”

Sawarabi’s words made Takimoto relax, and relaxation preceded exhaustion. She hadn’t realized how much she’d put on herself until she let a few of her responsibilities go. Her eyes opened to her own behavior; she saw herself clearly for what felt like the first time.

After that, Takimoto spent less time with Fujinami. Keeping a respectful distance, she let Sawarabi take on the role of conversational companion in her stead.

***

What restored Fujinami’s heart and mind more than Sawarabi’s gentleness was the attention of a young temple gardener. He was apprenticed to the head gardener and tended the plants during the growing season.

“I hear there is a very lovely princess here. Please decorate her room with this, if you think she would like it.” The cheerful young man held out the branch of a paper bush that was blooming with small yellow flowers. He was a little older than Princess Fujinami, deeply tanned from working outdoors. He was used to working in the temple and had excellent manners.

Fujinami spent most of her time shut in her room, but Takimoto learned from Sawarabi that she spent some time each day looking out the windows into the garden.

If this had been the Imperial Palace, speaking casually with a mountain raven of such low standing would have been unthinkable for Takimoto, never mind Princess Fujinami. In the past, she might have shouted at the fellow and struck him. But here, there was no need for that. The gardener’s apprentice seemed like a nice young man. Takimoto couldn’t bring herself to punish him for impertinence.

Takimoto arranged the branch of paper flower blossoms in a vase and set it before Fujinami.

“Princess Fujinami, the gardener has prepared a gift for you,” she said.

Fujinami blinked several times. Then she reached out to touch a petal of one of the flowers very gently.

A sheltered princess and a common gardener’s apprentice could never be expected to have any kind of relationship. Takimoto remembered Duchess Shiratama and her improper relationship with a servant—also a gardener, she remembered. Fujinami had hated each of the duchesses who had come to the Imperial Court and had grown jealous of them, but she had also admired them. They would have the kinds of lives that she could only imagine for herself.

This connection to the gardener’s apprentice would only be a problem if Fujinami’s tender feelings blossomed into love. It might be good to encourage Fujinami to make friends in the temple, albeit with suitable caution. Fujinami had fixed her feelings of love solely on her brother because she had barely met any other men. If Takimoto could broaden the princess’ world, Fujinami might grow to love another who would be appropriate company for her.

The young gardener was good-natured and obliging. When Takimoto asked him for more flowers for the princess’ room, he picked new blossoms for her every day with good cheer.

When Takimoto warned him not to get any improper ideas, he became flustered.

“I’d never lay my dirty hands on a princess,” he said.

But when he spoke to Princess Fujinami with a bamboo screen between them, he showed no particular timidity.

“I have heard that you were ill, Princess Fujinami. I hope you are feeling better now.” He smiled brightly, and when he was dismissed, he left the room walking on air.

“Princess Fujinami has been eating very well lately,” Sawarabi said happily as she cleared away the dinner trays that night.

Takimoto was pleased. If Fujinami could become healthy and well again, she could make more friends and see more people. She might marry someone suitable for her someday.

Takimoto had become completely accustomed to the quiet life of the temple. She had forgotten that this place was controlled by Empress Oumurasaki.

***

One day, a summons came for Takimoto. Empress Oumurasaki wanted to speak with her.

Such summons weren’t rare. The empress frequently called on Takimoto for reports on Fujinami’s health and to ask about her preferences and tastes. Takimoto responded to the summons as usual, thinking that nothing was amiss.

The first words out of the empress’ mouth made her freeze to the floor.

“I hear there is a suspicious shadow hovering around Princess Fujinami these days.” Empress Oumurasaki glanced at Takimoto sidelong.

“He’s just a gardener. Princess Fujinami enjoys seasonal flowers. He brings them for her sometimes.”

“And you permit that?”

Takimoto’s shoulders shook. Only then, belatedly, did Takimoto understand what she had done. She had touched upon an old wound of Empress Oumurasaki’s. Like Fujinami, Empress Oumurasaki had spent her life deprived of love and friends. Takimoto hadn’t made the connection between them because she hadn’t been looking for it. She had been careless and comfortable, and now she would pay for that.

“Empress Oumurasaki, I—”

“Enough.” Empress Oumurasaki cut her off without looking at her.

Takimoto felt the quiet sense of solidarity she had built through their shared concern for Fujinami dissolve in moments.

“Please wait, Empress Oumurasaki. Let me explain—”

Empress Oumurasaki walked away from her and never looked back.

After that, the temple gardener was replaced and the young man stopped coming. Empress Oumurasaki ceased speaking to Fujinami.

Fujinami suffered a nervous breakdown and refused to leave her rooms. Her recovered health deserted her overnight. Empress Oumurasaki had abandoned her and the young man had left her. She had nothing to live for.

Takimoto considered reaching out to Fujinami’s brothers for help, but the war with the Kuisaru was underway. All of Yamauchi was in peril. The true Golden Raven—still the crown prince in those days—advocated for abandoning the capital and Souke Territory for the purposes of national defense. This led to friction with the nobles, led by Empress Oumurasaki. The conflict intensified by the day. Takimoto did not reach out to Natsuka or Nazukihiko for assistance because she was convinced her request would be dismissed out of hand. Their problems were more pressing than Fujinami’s welfare.

Takimoto sent a letter to Empress Hamayū, but she did not expect a response.

But she did receive a response. The attendant who returned with Empress Hamayū’s message brought a modest sum of money and an apology for not being able to do much more in the current circumstances. The empress had no capacity to attend to Princess Fujinami personally at the moment.

After the great war with the Kuisaru ended, Crown Prince Nazukihiko formally ascended the throne as the next emperor. Nobles returned to the Imperial Court and the capital. The situation in the small temple where Princess Fujinami lived experienced no changes. No message was sent to her. No one visited. She had been forgotten.

Takimoto and Sawarabi remained by her always, of course, but Princess Fujinami always felt alone. No one was coming to save her from herself.

***

Before long, a daughter was born to the true Golden Raven and the new empress.

Empress Hamayū of Nanke had been Princess Fujinami’s enemy from the start. Her daughter, Fujinami’s niece, was raised at Shion Temple, which had a medicinal herb garden. The girl was named Shion.

Shion Temple and the temple where Fujinami lived were not so very different. The main difference was that Fujinami’s temple was much closer to the Imperial Palace.

The true Golden Raven made frequent visits to Shion Temple, but he did not visit Princess Fujinami even once.

When rumors spread of making the daughter of the true Golden Raven his heir, Takimoto’s heart sank. Shion and Fujinami were both imperial princesses, but the distance between their lives was the distance between heaven and earth.

She did not tell Fujinami any of the rumors she heard. She didn’t want to upset Fujinami further. She had no idea what would happen when Fujinami found out. The princess had been mentally unstable for years.

Under ordinary circumstances, Fujinami would have long since had her coming-of-age ceremony. That would have allowed her to marry. The great war with the Kuisaru had interrupted all such ceremonies, not just Fujinami’s, but now that it was over, no one showed any interest in what the rest of Princess Fujinami’s life would be like.

“I want to see my brother,” Fujinami said one morning after the war. She stared at her hands and whispered to herself in a voice barely heard. She had never looked more pathetic.

***

The order to assassinate the Golden Raven came from Shiun no In, the former empress who was now living in self-imposed exile in the Palace Above the Clouds. The order came not long after the debate over a female Golden Raven had begun in earnest in the Imperial Court.

Sawarabi was summoned rather than Takimoto. On that day, Sawarabi returned to the temple late at night. In a back room with the door shut tight, Takimoto listened to what she had to say.

They had been abandoned here. The arrangements for the true Golden Raven’s assassination had already been made in meticulous detail.

After dinner each evening, the true Golden Raven customarily withdrew to the Night Palace and dismissed his attendants. When he went out, Yamauchishu followed him at all times. For a few scant minutes every evening, he kept only the bare minimum of personnel around him. The guards’ attention was directed outward, toward the gates. No one kept careful watch over the Night Palace at night because no one anticipated a threat from inside the palace during the brief span of time when the true Golden Raven was left unguarded.

In the innermost part of the Golden Raven’s Palace, there were two sealed doors. One led to the Inner Palace and the other led to the Forbidden Gate. Empress Hamayū made no use of the Inner Palace or Sakura Palace. The mountain god’s realm had been sealed off by the mountain god himself, and the true Golden Raven had not opened the Forbidden Gate in close to a decade. With everything shut tight, the number of soldiers on guard was small.

The Inner Palace connected to Sakura Palace and the Golden Raven’s Palace. If the true Golden Raven could be lured to Sakura Palace, assassins could travel through the Inner Palace to reach him without being observed by aerial patrols.

Those assassins would be Fujimiyaren, of course—those who had accompanied Shiun no In into exile. They could wait in concealment inside Sakura Palace and kill him.

Since his enthronement, the true Golden Raven had become more cautious. Back when he was the crown prince, he had often wandered around as he pleased, but now, the Yamauchishu never left his side. He never went anywhere without an escort.

That was why Fujinami’s involvement was necessary.

“Shiun no In instructed us to have Princess Fujinami write a letter. She is to arrange a secret meeting with His Imperial Majesty in the courtyard of Sakura Palace,” Sawarabi said in a voice devoid of emotion. “I told her that His Imperial Majesty has been contacted many times. Princess Fujinami has asked to see him repeatedly and has always been refused. I said I didn’t believe he would come.” She shook her head. “So she told Fujinami to speak in Shin no In’s name. She said, ‘Tell him that Shiun no In wishes to discuss certain important matters in person. He will come.’”

That was likely true. Shiun no In had tremendous political influence. If she insisted on a meeting with the emperor, he was unlikely to refuse her. He certainly could not ignore such a message.

Takimoto let out a slow breath. “And who will perform the act?” she asked.

“You and I,” Sawarabi said dully.

Takimoto covered her face with both hands. She and Sawarabi were being sacrificed for the former empress’ plans. Takimoto had seen this happen many times before. She’d known that she would never be in Shiun no In’s good graces again after the gardener incident, but she hadn’t anticipated being disposed of like this.

“She intends to make Princess Fujinami the mastermind of the plot,” Takimoto said hoarsely.

“Yes.” Sawarabi’s teeth chattered. She hugged herself.

If the assassination succeeded, there would be a thorough investigation afterward. Shiun no In had appointed Takimoto and Sawarabi as the murderers, and she was setting up Fujinami to take the blame for plotting the crime.

Everyone knew that Princess Fujinami was mentally unwell. That was common knowledge in the Imperial Court. If the true Golden Raven were to be killed—having come at her invitation, in secret—no one would listen to Fujinami’s protestations of innocence. The story would write itself.

“Shiun no In has gone mad.” Sawarabi bowed her head and sobbed. “She wasn’t like this before.”

Sawarabi wasn’t wrong. Empress Yūsemi would never have planned anything so reckless. Since Takimoto had withdrawn to the temple, cuts to the Inner Palace staff had accelerated apace. Colleagues who had originally served the former empress were regularly dismissed without notice. Since rumors of a future female Golden Raven had begun, Shiun no In’s impatience had expressed itself in obvious ways. She gathered all of her allies and made daring plots to prevent Nazukihiko’s daughter from inheriting the throne.

Takimoto remembered Shiun no In turning her back on her that day when they’d discussed the apprentice gardener. She had walked away without so much as a single backward glance.

Shiun no In did not value those who served her. She never had.

Fierce anger bubbled up under Takimoto’s skin. She could not just permit this to happen. It was too terrible to be borne. She had never been loyal to her mistresses, but she had always obeyed.

Now she was considering disobedience. To lay hands upon the true Golden Raven without permission meant death.

Have I committed a sin so great that I must die? Takimoto thought. Was allowing a servant to deliver flowers to the princess really a crime worthy of such a punishment?

Takimoto was a Fujimiyaren, so her hands had never been entirely clean. She probably deserved an even worse ending for herself.

But Fujinami did not deserve this fate. The poor girl had done nothing wrong. There had been an accident—a terrible one—but she had never harmed someone intentionally, not even once.

I can’t do this.

She would not allow Fujinami to orchestrate her own suicide in such fashion. She refused.

“Sawarabi—”

“I have a younger sister,” Sawarabi said, cutting her off. She stared at her quaking knees. “If I’m caught and I don’t name Princess Fujinami as the one who ordered it, I don’t know what will happen to my sister.” She bowed her head. “Please forgive me.”

Takimoto had no words. She understood Sawarabi’s motives, of course. Her willingness to cooperate rendered Takimoto’s desire to resist pointless. After the deed was done, Takimoto would probably be silenced by another assassin’s blade.

“Your sister will never be safe,” Takimoto said after a long pause. “She might stay alive for now, but eventually, Shiun no In will find some way to get rid of her as well as you. That’s how she is. She disposes of people when they’re no longer useful to her.”

Sawarabi didn’t move.

“You should think carefully about what to do,” Takimoto said.

Sawarabi said nothing. Takimoto couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

***

“I’ll make arrangements so that you can meet His Imperial Majesty,” Sawarabi said to Fujinami the next morning.

This pronouncement cheered Fujinami instantly.

Takimoto felt as taut as a wire about to snap.

“If you want to see your brother, you’ll have to write him a letter,” Sawarabi said with false enthusiasm. “So write what I tell you to write.”

Fujinami obeyed her without question.

In the letter, she wrote about the first day Nazukihiko had come to see her when they were children. She included small and specific details known only to the two of them. She wrote that there was something she absolutely had to discuss with him. She hinted at the subject through the incense she had pressed into the paper—incense that only the Souke family was permitted to use. The letter was patterned with a watermark of purple clouds.

If you still consider me your little sister, please come and visit me, she wrote.

Takimoto read over the letter, frowning. No mention of Shiun no In was in it anywhere. She suspected that the princess would need to write it again and include what the empress had communicated to Sawarabi.

Takimoto readied herself for what was coming while she still had the luxury of time.

***

Sawarabi was sent to Sakura Palace as a prospective lady-in-waiting with a false identity on Shiun no In’s orders. The Fujimiyaren working for her had arranged everything in advance, so there was no trouble at all. Yamaji was a good-natured woman who accepted Sawarabi as the scion of a noble house related to the Touke family. Sawarabi’s fabricated background was accepted without question.

Takimoto and Fujinami also entered Sakura Palace, pretending to be a mother and daughter from a merchant family who did business with Sawarabi’s fake family. They wore the clothing of commoners for their employment interview. Takimoto used a wig to disguise the length of her hair. She put makeup on Fujinami, fearing they would be recognized by their faces, and told her to keep her head down as much as possible.

Yamaji was accustomed to associating with young noblewomen. She did not force Fujinami to look at her. Instead, she praised Fujinami for her modesty and shyness.

“Such nice manners for a merchant’s daughter,” Yamaji said to Fujinami. “I hope you’ll do well here. Miss Oei, I believe you have raised your daughter very well. You’ll be serving in the Imperial Palace in no time.” She smiled warmly to encourage Fujinami.

After the interview with Yamaji was done, it was simple for them all to enter Sakura Palace. A carriage was arranged to pick them up each morning for work. It was pleasant to spend days in Sakura Palace again after so long. Takimoto hadn’t expected to miss the place, but she liked working in familiar surroundings. Her old position in Sakura Palace seemed like a dream.

Their first day of work was overcast. The women gathered in the carriage yard while Yamaji explained what they would be doing that day. Sakura Palace was too vast to clean in a single day; the work would be divided up and done in stages.

“Before long, we will be welcoming Princess Shion here. Everyone, please take care to make the palace beautiful for her arrival.”

The new hires answered her with bows and smiles. Fujinami made no response at all, but she was standing in a crowd of other women and went unnoticed.

Takimoto and Fujinami cleaned Wisteria Hall as assigned. Fujinami had never cleaned anything with her own hands in her life. The risk of arousing suspicion was at its highest now.

Takimoto almost hoped they would be caught. But everyone was focused on their own tasks, and Fujinami worked in silence. By the time they finished the area assigned to them, no one looked at them as outsiders. They drew no special attention whatsoever.

A carriage driver who had been paid off in advance left Sakura Palace without the three of them at the end of the workday. Takimoto, Sawarabi, and Fujinami concealed themselves in the stable behind the stage near the gate and waited for everyone else to leave. Then they went down through the servants’ entrance and entered Sakura Palace.

Fujinami handed the letter she had written to an imperial attendant who came to check up on the status of the cleaning. She asked him to pass it to Lord Akeru, saying that an imperial princess had instructed him to deliver it at once. It was unsigned, but if Lord Akeru noticed what the incense implied, there was no doubt the letter would reach the true Golden Raven soon.

The letter requested the true Golden Raven to come to the garden of Sakura Palace at sunset—alone.

After that, Fujinami, Takimoto, and Sawarabi went to the garden. A Fujimiyaren in service to Shiun no In arrived and gave them guidance on the best hiding places. She spoke politely and motioned toward places where oiled paper had been set up to protect them all from potential rain.

Takimoto was intimidated by the woman. She was scrupulously polite, but she was also a threat. If they didn’t follow her instructions, she would kill them all without a second thought.

Fujinami hid among the garden’s hydrangeas as she was instructed.

The weather had been cloudy since dawn. Not long after Fujinami was in position, it started raining. Takimoto covered Fujinami with a long, thick garment and wrapped oiled paper over that. On the ground beneath her, Takimoto folded a blanket and spread more oiled paper over it so that the cold wouldn’t seep into Fujinami through the wet earth.

“His Imperial Majesty will come soon,” Takimoto said. She handed Fujinami a canteen to drink from.

Fujinami remained silent and didn’t drink.

Takimoto walked away from Fujinami and took her position where the Fujimiyaren had indicated. A short bow and a sword had been prepared for her use. Sawarabi was hiding nearby. The Fujimiyaren had vanished from sight at some point, but Takimoto had no doubt she was watching them.

The true Golden Rave might not come. Takimoto thought that perhaps she should have made Fujinami rewrite the letter to mention Shiun no In. At the same time, she was glad she hadn’t. If the true Golden Raven failed to appear, there would be no assassination, and Shiun no In’s plans would be thwarted.

Perhaps the imperial attendant who’d received the letter would assume it was an ordinary love note and refrain from passing it to Lord Akeru. Even if it did reach the true Golden Raven’s hands, he might not do anything about it. He’d ignored Princess Fujinami for years. He had refused to see her, refused to forgive her, refused to extend his hand to his little sister in need…

So let him refuse again, Takimoto thought, almost praying. Please.

***

They waited for a long time. Light left the sky and the rain beat down harder.

Then Takimoto sensed the presence of several people moving within Wisteria Hall in the dark. She heard several sets of footsteps, but she couldn’t tell if the true Golden Raven had come yet.

Someone descended into the garden from the direction of Wisteria Hall. The man moved like a warrior. His companions didn’t follow him. He held up a hanging lantern that burned sugar lumps and looked carefully around. He was undoubtedly a Yamauchishu. He was the first to find Fujinami sitting in the hydrangeas.

“Who are you?” the man rasped. He brought the lantern close to examine her face. “Princess Fujinami?” the man asked, startled.

Fujinami remained silent.

Another man joined the Yamauchishu in the garden, walking briskly from the doors to Wisteria Hall toward his sister.

It was the true Golden Raven, Nazukihiko.

Takimoto closed her eyes and thought, No.

“Your Imperial Majesty, stay back!” Takimoto called out.

The true Golden Raven looked toward her in alarm.

Takimoto’s warning came too late. He was in the garden and vulnerable to attack.

“Stop! Sawarabi, please don’t do this! If we go over to the true Golden Raven’s side now, Fujinami and the rest of us will be all right!” Takimoto yelled.

Sawarabi had already jumped out from behind a shrub. She released an arrow from her short bow without hesitation.

The Yamauchishu threw out both arms to shield the true Golden Raven. The arrow pierced the center of his chest.

Akeru raced down into the garden behind the true Golden Raven. He drew his sword and stepped forward, placing himself between the true Golden Raven and his attackers.

The true Golden Raven stood to shield Fujinami from danger. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.

Takimoto didn’t understand what had happened.

The true Golden Raven’s eyes went wide. He turned slowly, blankly, and stared at the younger sister he had shielded from danger.

Fujinami had stabbed him with a poisoned dagger.

“Why?” he asked.

Takimoto would have asked the same question if her shock had allowed her to speak. Why would Princess Fujinami do such a terrible thing?

Akeru roared and kicked Fujinami. She fell, rolling across the wet ground and away. “Your Imperial Majesty, run!”

The true Golden Raven retreated toward Wisteria Hall. He tore off his kimono and transformed into his raven shape.

Sawarabi loosed a second arrow at him, but Akeru twisted his body into the line of fire. The arrow buried itself in his shoulder. He didn’t flinch.

“Run! Hurry!”

The true Golden Raven beat his wings and took flight with a shudder. He must be in grave pain, but it looked like he would still manage to escape.

From the rooftop, the Fujimiyaren who had decided their hiding places revealed herself and loosed a sharp arrow at the true Golden Raven’s wing.

The enormous wing knocked the arrow aside. It didn’t pierce his skin.

Sawarabi drew her sword and rushed toward the true Golden Raven, but Akeru put himself between her and Nazukihiko. They fought sword to sword. Even injured, Akeru was more than a match for Sawarabi.

The lookout changed targets and shot Akeru.

The true Golden Raven beat his wings again, and then he was fully aloft, out of arrow range.

The Fujimiyaren shouted, panicking, but the true Golden Raven was out of reach.

“Don’t let him escape! We have to go after him!” The lookout transformed to give chase, but the true Golden Raven’s raven form was much larger than hers. He could fly much faster than she could, even when he was injured.

Fujinami stared up at the receding shape of the true Golden Raven vacantly, silent and docile as a little child. She looked amazed, like she hadn’t expected him to transform. It was likely that she’d never seen him transform before.

“Princess Fujinami!” Takimoto ran to her. Before she could reach Fujinami, a sharp pain blazed through her left arm.

She screamed.

Akeru, his hair wild, his face covered in blood, and his right arm ending in a stump, clamped his teeth down on her arm. He should be dead; it was miraculous that he was still standing. His eyes were open and clear and fixed on her with frenzied ferocity.

“Let go! Let go!” Takimoto tried to pull away from Akeru, but he did not release her.

“Let go!” Takimoto screamed again and looked around the garden.

Fujinami was gone.

Where had she gone?

Movement caught Takimoto’s eye. Fujinami was more than halfway to Wisteria Hall’s doors. She was leaning on the railing of the garden stairs.

“Fujinami.”

The princess looked back at her. Below the railing she clung to was a deep, dark ravine.

“No! Stop!” Takimoto cried out.

Fujinami went over the railing. The sleeves of her kimono billowed outward in a pathetic imitation of wings.

The fluttering hem of her kimono disappeared below the railing.

Takimoto stood rooted to the spot.

Akeru did not let go of her arm even after he died.

***

When Takimoto became aware of her surroundings again, Akeru was long dead. His teeth were sunk deeply into her arm and would not come loose. Sawarabi noticed and came over to help break his jaw.

Takimoto’s arm was free, but she could not bring herself to move. It was raining heavily. The garden around her was pitch black with Akeru’s blood. Sawarabi stood near her, silent.

She did not know if the true Golden Raven was alive or dead.

Why had Fujinami murdered the brother she loved?

The question didn’t matter. Takimoto would be dead soon enough. She had no future. Fujinami was dead; she had no one to serve. Her whole life had shrunk to focus on a single person. She should have noticed that sooner.

“The other Fujimiyaren still hasn’t come back,” Sawarabi said. She wasn’t looking at Takimoto. She understood that Takimoto had betrayed Shiun no In.

Sawarabi was telling her that she would look the other way while Takimoto ran.

Takimoto nodded in gratitude and then headed toward Wisteria Hall. The sky was dark with rain clouds, but a sliver of sunlight remained on the western horizon. Takimoto took raven form with a cold shudder and flew down into the ravine below. As she flew, she thought about how terrifying it would be to jump in human form, as Fujinami had done.

Fujinami’s corpse lay on the ravine floor. The girl she had cared for in such complicated ways since infancy was now a still, silent object. That girl had gone where she could not follow, all alone.

Takimoto couldn’t bear to leave the body where it lay. The thought of doing that pained her far more than her bitten arm. She reshaped her feather robe so that she could wrap it carefully around Fujinami’s body. She picked up the shrouded corpse and carried it out of the ravine.

“Shall we rest somewhere quiet?” Takimoto asked the weight in her arms.

They had been together since Fujinami was a baby. Holding her like this, Takimoto remembered that she had never carried Fujinami piggyback before.

The rain was loud in her ears as Takimoto climbed out of the ravine and up the mountain slope.

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