by Devin Madson
‘Perhaps you should.’ I bent and picked up the tray from the stones, the smell of the soup making my mouth water. ‘You can take this with you. I don’t need your charity.’
Baring her teeth, she snatched the tray out of my hands and flung it against the wall. The bowl smashed. Hot soup splattered over the floor, shards of ceramic and clumps of rice scattered like unlikely snow.
‘If you don’t want it, you don’t have to eat it,’ she said. ‘And if you want it, you can lick it off the floor like a dog.’
The hurt and anger fed back and forth between us, its pull almost irresistible. I wanted to rage at her, to shake her, but I swallowed the words, my fingers curling on the threadbare silk of the old divan. Kimiko did not move.
Slowly the anger ebbed.
Silence reigned, and Kimiko sat against the wall, hugging her knees to her chest. She was a strange creature. Otakos were known for their fire and their beauty, but Kimiko was more wild animal than woman. Those dark curls flew free like a mane over thick brows and piercing eyes. She was quick and graceful, bred to a life she had never lived, her skin covered in scars. Even now she sat curled like an animal trying to keep warm.
Katashi and Kimiko had been ten years old at their father’s execution. For five weeks Katashi had been the heir to the Crimson Throne, then both had disappeared from Kisian history altogether. Some said they had remained together, others that Kimiko had been married off to a foreign family. Either way, only one legacy of their brief lives in the sun remained, a limerick about their respective size:
Katashi the tall
Kimiko the small
He took all the room
In their mother’s small womb
So for her there was no room at all
The rhyme danced through my head as I looked at Kimiko. Only hours before I had pressed her naked body into the divan and now we were facing off like cats. But I wanted her. My craving for her had not been sated. I wanted that passion, wanted to feel her nails carve flesh from my back as she gasped, thrusting her hips into mine.
‘Why did you serve Emperor Kin?’
The question came from nowhere, a sharp barb in the dark. ‘Is there a reason I should not have done?’ I asked, dragging my thoughts from her naked skin with an effort.
‘Because you were the sworn guardian of Lady Hana Otako and the son of the Imperial Protector.’
I leant back, staring up at the stone ceiling. ‘My father hated your family,’ I said, letting go a sigh. ‘I looked after Hana because I was honour-bound to do so. And I served Kin because if any man could rule Kisia, he could. I am not obliged by descent to support your claims.’
‘They are not my claims. I don’t care who sits on the throne.’
‘Perhaps you should,’ I said. ‘War means people die.’
‘Why do you have to be such a decent person?’
‘You would prefer I wasn’t?’
Kimiko was watching me now, frowning with those heavy brows. ‘It would be easier to hate you if you weren’t.’
‘You want to hate me because I’m an Empath?’ I asked.
‘Your brother marked me, Darius. He took away my freedom and turned me into a freak.’
‘And your brother sold you to Malice and sentenced me to death. We are both blessed in our family.’
She began to tug gently at the frayed end of her black sash. ‘Why did you leave Malice?’
An empty answer rose to my tongue but remained unsaid. She might hate me for the truth, but she would as surely hate me for the lie.
‘Because I learned there was a good man inside me somewhere,’ I said, returning her stare with an effort. ‘Guilt and remorse are heavy things to carry.’
‘You don’t like being an Empath?’
‘No.’
I felt a pang of conscience as the word passed my lips, but her relief was palpable. What did she fear? That it was the Empathy that made Malice the way he was? I had thought it true once, that our ways were inescapable, natural. Yet for five years I had used my Empathy against itself and kept the urges at bay. I had felt the life draining out of me, little by little, but I had learned to cope with that as I had learned to live without Malice.
Kimiko was watching me, her expression hard to read. I could have dug deeper, unravelling the threads of her chaotic emotions, but there was a difference between passive Empathy and active. It was one of the many things I’d had to learn.
She uncurled herself, beginning to gather the larger chunks of broken pottery onto the tray. I watched, mesmerised by every graceful movement of her hands, coupled as it was with a little shuffle across the floor.
When she had finished, she picked up the tray and walked out through the wall. She was not gone long, although the torturous smell of the spilt soup made it feel longer.
Kimiko returned with another tray. ‘This one is an offering,’ she said, setting it at my feet. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘So am I.’
I abandoned the divan to kneel upon the floor, my mouth watering. Kimiko took my place, and knowing she was watching I tried to eat as gracefully as hunger would allow. I ate one small mouthful at a time, until, lifting the soup bowl to my lips, I found her fast asleep. The dark fabric of her robe rose and fell with each steady breath.
I tipped the soup back then as though it had been wine, and returned the bowl to the tray with a sharp tap. Kimiko did not stir. She looked exhausted. A curl had fallen across her face and she had one arm tucked beneath her head, like someone who had often used her own limb as a pillow.
Had they fled into exile alone? Had there been someone else, a distant Otako relative, or had Kimiko and her mother been left to fend for themselves with only a ten-year-old boy as protector?
No wonder Katashi Otako was full of hate.
I looked toward the door. Kimiko was the gatekeeper, the only way out of this room and out of this castle. But freedom would come with a price. She was marked. She had to obey. She would take me to Malice whether, in her heart, she wanted to or not.
Unless I marked her with my own hand.
The thought darted into my head, stealing my breath. She would have to obey.
I crouched beside the divan, gnawing on a manicured nail. It wouldn’t be easy. To overpower Malice’s mark she would have to be vulnerable. Trusting.
It was a doorway to a place I had sworn never to go again, but the alternative would see me delivered into Malice’s hands.
Gently touching Kimiko’s cheek, I let my Empathy slide into her, searching. Malice had grown complacent. ‘You could have done better,’ I whispered. ‘But you don’t care enough to find their weaknesses.’
Kimiko stirred. I yanked my hand away and she rubbed her nose, snuffling as she settled herself more comfortably on the worn silk. A handful of curls tumbled off the edge like a tasselled trim.
I sat back, propping my chin on my hand, and watched her breathe.
* * *
I could not say how many hours passed before Kimiko woke. Time became meaningless in the room that was both prison and sanctuary, minutes melding into a sea of thoughts as disconnected as the stars in the night sky. I thought of Malice, of Avarice, and of the first night we had spent in Mei’lian at The Gilded Cherry. I played Errant in my head. I wondered about the harvest; about the storms and how Kin’s face would look at this very moment.
Then Kimiko let out a groan and stretched, cat-like, curling her fingers into claws and straightening them with a little grunt of pleasure.
‘You’re still here, I see,’ she said, opening her eyes.
‘Did you think I could go somewhere?’
‘I believe you capable of anything, Lord Laroth.’
‘Are we back on formal terms now, Lady Kimiko? And to think, my back is riddled with cuts.’
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She chuckled, her expression devilish. ‘Do you want me to apologise?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Although to be reminded of you every time I move makes it difficult to concentrate.’
‘Nice to know I can leave my own mark.’ She stood, stretching her hands toward the low stone. ‘I like you, Darius,’ she added, dropping her arms. ‘You’re never boring or stupid.’
‘Thank you,’ I said with mock meekness.
‘You’re welcome.’ Kimiko rolled her shoulders and flexed her fingers. ‘Have you heard anything?’
‘Some footsteps above us, but nothing else.’
‘Do you think it’s dark yet? I’ll go check. Stay here.’
She turned, fingers already slipping through the door as I gripped her other arm. ‘I would rather not.’
‘Why? I’m not going to abandon you.’
‘I never thought you would,’ I said. ‘But if I stay in this room a moment longer I think I might go mad.’
She laughed and held out her hand. ‘I guess we can’t have that. Shall we?’
‘And how do you plan to get us out of here?’
Hand still outstretched, Kimiko shrugged. ‘Through the walls. That’s how I got in, that’s how I got Katashi and Endymion in. Through the walls and across the gardens.’
‘They weren’t looking for you then, but they’ll be looking for us now. How many more men are we going to kill?’
Kimiko let her hand fall. ‘None, if they don’t deserve to die.’
‘Then we are of the same mind. For how long can you fade?’
‘I don’t know, I haven’t tested it. As long as I can hold my sadness, I think.’
‘Then we should follow the walls.’
‘Follow the walls?’
Crouching, I licked the tip of my finger and drew upon the dusty boards. ‘This is the Keep, yes? A wall joins it here and runs from the armoury to the Willow Gate. There we can turn into the second wall and follow it around.’
‘But it doesn’t join the outer wall anywhere.’
‘No, but a quick dash down the slope through the aspen grove is better than trying to make it through the gardens, don’t you think?’
Kimiko agreed, though she bit her lip in a way that made my thoughts slip. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘But I don’t like it. I hate to think what would happen to us if I lost concentration.’
‘We would die.’
She gave me a pained look.
‘No, perhaps that wasn’t helpful,’ I agreed. ‘But it’s true. And I can help. I can feed you sadness.’
‘A use for your Empathy?’
‘Unfortunately, it has many uses.’
Those little teeth gnawed again at the pink skin of her lip, then she nodded. ‘All right.’ She held out her hand and this time I took it, her fingers, her little claws, locking between mine.
‘Wait.’ She stopped at the wall, the fingers of her other hand splayed in readiness. ‘If you’re an Empath, why don’t I feel you in my head when we touch?’
‘Because I’m not connected to you. Empathy is mostly a passive state.’
‘But every time I held Endymion’s hand I could feel him. Even the guards could feel him getting into their heads, and they didn’t have to touch him.’
She shivered, shaking away an unpleasant memory. I had hoped Malice was exaggerating, but any Empath capable of that was more dangerous than I had thought possible.
‘He is merely unskilled,’ I said, forcing a smile. ‘You won’t feel me unless I have to help you. Even then I will try my best to keep out of your head.’
Kimiko looked surprised.
‘I asked permission for your body, didn’t I?’ I said. ‘It is no less courteous to ask permission for your mind.’
She squeezed my hand, eyes gleaming.
You’re a fool, Darius, I told myself as she pulled me through the door, the thick wood seeming to catch at my flesh. Stop now.
The darkness was complete outside our sanctuary, the whole Keep owning the heavy silence that came with night. We had left the lantern behind and walked now with quick, careful steps, listening for any sound that might herald life. Katashi was tenacious. He would not stop hunting me until I kissed his feet, and if I refused again there would be no reprieve. He had come too far for that.
No guards disturbed us, footsteps overhead all that proved they existed at all. How many times had Katashi made them search the Keep? Every time so close and yet entirely unaware.
Kimiko went ahead, retracing our steps from the previous night until she stopped before the outer wall. ‘Does this look right?’ she said, taking a deep breath. ‘Are we below the armoury here?’
‘As close as I can guess given that I’ve never been down here before.’
‘I guess we better go then.’
‘I’ll help you.’
She threw me a look of gratitude and reached for my hand. ‘Ready?’
‘Ready.’
Concentrating on the thoughts that fuelled her sadness, Kimiko began to fade. The touch that joined us drew me with her and I became just as ethereal, solid only to myself and to her. The air in this strange half-world was cold and I shivered just as Kimiko stepped into the stone. It swallowed her first, another step then a thousand tiny needles pricked my skin. This was dense stone, old and dry, and it scraped through me as we turned. I gritted my teeth, tightening my hold on Kimiko’s hand as we began our journey, every step one closer to freedom.
Sadness encased us like a shield; a sigh exhaled through the skin. Whatever memory Kimiko used was strong, but if her concentration wavered for even a second, stone would race into our lungs and clog our hearts. I tried not to think about it, not think about the stone passing through me. I kept my eyes shut, every breath a quick suck of aged air long trapped between the stones. Darkness. Pressure. The blackness owned no smell, yet it stung my nose like coarse sand.
Our steps slowed. Stone ripped at my skin. She was struggling to hold the sadness, the memory slipping. Did she think of her family? Her father? My father was a source of anger rather than misery, but my mother… She’d had violet eyes, too. Glassy, they had stared at the passing clouds, her skin so pale she faded into the misty morning. Two lives lost to the curse, and I had been alone.
Walking became easier and Kimiko squeezed my hand. I could hardly tell how long we had been trapped in the stone; Kimiko pulling me behind her like the second mule in a train. Time and distance blurred together. I wanted to breathe. I wanted real air, not these sharp gasps sucked from stale pockets. I wanted to see and smell and not have to think about my mother lying dead upon the grass. The wall seemed interminable. Step after step, lost in a nightmare world where freedom was always close enough to touch and too dangerous to risk. In this dark hell it was only Kimiko who kept me alive; her hand, her sadness, all that saved me from death.
When we reached the turning I knew we were getting close. Kimiko stopped, the sharp twitch of her hand warning, not thanks. The aspen grove. We would have to be quick, even in the dark. Katashi would have men on every wall, waiting for anything that might step through the stone.
She drew me forward and I gasped a lungful of warm night air, the simple sensation of breathing the greatest thing I had ever felt. Our fingers untangled and I leant back against the wall, its solidity assuring me of my own.
Ahead, an aspen grove obscured the outer wall from view; tall white trunks colonising the final slope between us and freedom. The trees shivered. Water trickled down a narrow, mossy channel, the sound all that disturbed the eerie copse.
Kimiko twitched my sleeve, nodding to where lanterns left splashes of golden light upon the grass. Soldiers. I could feel them everywhere, the collective weight of a hundred eyes hunting their errant prisoners.
Tog
ether we stepped into the tight-knit grove, keeping to the shadows. The only direction was straight ahead, toward the wall, our silent steps stealing over soft ground.
‘But they haven’t come back.’
The low voice cut through the night and we froze, half crouched in a nest of saplings.
‘You think something has happened?’ another voice replied, the words carrying on a hoarse whisper.
‘What else? General Tan knows what he’s doing. He could lead an ambush in his sleep.’
Kimiko tensed against me. Every step was bringing them closer.
‘Yeah? Guess that’s important if you’re a rebel.’
‘Rebel? You kasu. At least I’ve always been loyal to the Otakos.’
The two men were nearly beside us, their hissed argument bringing discontent into the ghostly copse. Lantern light crawled its pale fingers toward us. Kimiko’s curls tickled my nose. I tried not to think about that smell and how many men had enjoyed it before me; tried not to think about anything but the need to hold my breath steady.
Shadows flickered over the close foliage.
‘Hey!’
Branches were ripped aside and a guard yanked Kimiko up by her elbow. She growled, snapping her teeth as the second man grabbed her from behind, but the instant a knife blade touched her throat she froze.
‘Pleasant evening, Lord Laroth,’ the first guard said, swinging the lantern forward and grinning down at me. ‘I thought you’d be long gone. Won’t we be in favour, delivering you to the headsman.’
I rose with what grace I could muster, brushing leaves from my robe. ‘You think so? Do you realise you are, at this very moment, threatening Lady Kimiko Otako?’
Despite having a knife to her throat, Kimiko shot me a sickened look. ‘Lady is such a bad word,’ she said.
‘What are you talking about?’ the other man demanded, a thatch of dark hair sticking out beneath the rim of his helmet. He gave Kimiko a little shake. ‘This ain’t no lady.’
