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Age 13 (part 2)
He didn't talk to her for two weeks after Lord Kaden's visit.
So she decided to teach herself. There were two overarching schools in offensive Hoshidan magic: scrolls, used for conjuring animal spirits for short-term results; and curses, sent from afar for long-lasting results. A true war witch knew when and how to cast both.
Activating a scroll was as simple as reciting the words and channeling the animal, which she'd done years ago with no experience—but rat spirits were easy to control. Monkeys were tricksters. Rabbits and Sheep had no focus. Snakes were disobedient. Tigers were willful. Using the scrolls required knowledge about the animals themselves, which was a lifetime of study all on its own. She decided to go one at a time, starting with horses.
Pressed for time, she decided to study curses in tandem. She knew she'd have to disregard her father's warnings about baneful magic—if she was serious about serving Selkie, curses and hexes would have to be her first line of defense, not last. But when she tried to go over the sole grimoire her father had on the subject, she couldn't make it past the first page without the words slipping from her eyes like water.
She stormed off to her old training room and saw him—or rather, his shadowy outline—handling her crystal ball. "What are you doing?"
He ignored her and continued to slowly turn the dark orb over in his hands, staring at it intently.
"I never said you could touch that. Put it back!"
"You'd best watch your tone. You're still stuck with me for five months."
"Oh, so you're talking to me finally."
"What can I say? Your insolence excites me."
Rhajat slammed the door behind her. "Whatever, I don't have time for this. Lift the curse."
"I checked, Asugi already did."
"Not that one, the one you placed on me!"
He stopped turning the ball over. "Pardon?"
"I can't read our curse grimoire, and I know you're responsible. Stop being petty and uncross me. I need to make up for lost time."
"Oh, please. If I really wanted to keep you from that book, I would've saved myself the trouble and burned it."
"Then why can't I read it?"
"I don't know. Have you tried lighting a candle?"
If he weren't her father she would have attacked him right then. She stormed out of the room instead.
Late that bright-night, just as she was about to sleep, Hayato came into her room and sat at the edge of her bed.
"'It is in our collective experience that a curse cast in justified retaliation will have no adverse effects on the practitioner, if properly conducted. However, a curse cast as a preemptive measure or in malice must be accompanied by additional precautionary steps.'"
She rolled over and saw that he was reading from the dark grimoire.
"'This is done to prevent retaliation not only from the afflicted, but from benevolent spirits as well. With enough practice, a skilled practitioner may even be able to mask themselves from the gods.'"
Rhajat curled up on her side and allowed her father's words to sink in.
For the next two months, Hayato read to her every day; they finished it front-to-back three times. He never asked why she couldn't read it herself and she didn't care to find out either, especially when she found she couldn't read anything save for her spell scrolls.
When they weren't reading together, Hayato would aid her in her study of animal spirits. He eventually—eventually—agreed to spar with her. She always lost, but over time it took her longer to do so. With Hayato no longer cancelling the lesson at every minor injury, Rhajat could improve in a genuine way. She was optimistic about her chances of being retainer-ready by the Summer Solstice, which was three months away.
But by Spring Equinox, everything changed.
She woke up that morning to keening that violently tumbled down the Wind Tribe's curbing streets—first a few voices, then many more. Her thoughts immediately went to Grandfather Fuga. Hayato poked his head into her room, commanded her to stay put, and rushed outside.
She got up and, feeling her way through the mid-morning darkness, made it to her black crystal ball. She placed her hands on it. Please don't let it be Grandfather. Her idea of him had been shaken by his complete non-reaction to Lord Kaden's letter, but she still wanted him on Earth, not below it.
The ball didn't respond to her plea, and deep down she knew it wouldn't. It was a tool meant to show things as they were, not as the user wanted them. She forced herself to focus on the wailing outside. Why are they crying?
In her mind's eye there was a sudden flash of lightning. It reminded her of the myth behind Hoshido's founding. After the war between the twelve dragons ended, the Dawn Dragon went in search of a land suitable for Their descendants. They flew to the eastern side of the continent and spread Their wings wide, casting a blinding light that went on for miles. Whatever my divine light touches will be blessed forever, declared the Dawn Dragon. My children down to the thousandth generation will rule here.
Of course, that blinding light eventually dimmed and became the sun. But the light in her crystal ball faded even more, until she saw the outline of a towering figure clad in red armor. He was incased in an energy so ominous it made Rhajat's hairs stand on end, and that malice tightened its grip on the man, squeezing everything out of him until it snuffed out the spark of his life.
Rhajat saw King Ryoma dead on the floor.
Her hands flew up to her mouth. She couldn't believe it. Ryoma had been on the throne her entire life. She never thought there could be a world without him standing on top of it.
Later that day, she and Hayato were on their knees.
As was customary, they kowtowed from their home all the way to the center of the Wind Tribe, where a shrine to the late king had already been built. As they shuffled along she heard other tribesmen heaving their grief, but when she tried to look to them all she saw was beige clashing against yellow against blue, the Wind Tribe's neutral colors melting together into splotches void of meaning. She decided to keep her eyes on the ground.
Unwritten rules dictated that as members of the chief's family, they had to stop every fifteen steps to wail and ask the Dawn Dragon to forgive them for allowing Their favorite child to fall. What should've been a twenty-minute crawl was dragged out across an hour, and by the time they made it to the shrine her knees were torn and bloodied. Rhajat wasted no time fully prostrating herself before the altar. She was the very picture of submission, but inside she imagined: the prideful king falling prey to a coup. Inside she imagined: him falling ill with some unsightly, terminal disease. Inside she imagined: the gods overruling the Dawn Dragon and consigning him to hell.
She rolled onto her back and sobbed dramatically into the crook of her arm. She tried to imagine what he might've looked like as he died. The life expectancy in Hoshido was 50 years old, with the most privileged among them usually living much longer—and yet, Ryoma had been just shy of 40. No matter the cause of his death, it had to have caught him off guard. Did he beg the Dawn Dragon to spare him, or was he satisfied with his time on earth? What had his final thoughts been as his brain died and his soul rose?
Beside her, Hayato placed charms woven with his hair and dyed with his blood on the alter. He thanked Kagero's employer for his exemplary rulership, for his diplomacy towards the Wind Tribe, for the generous income that kept their family afloat. He wished Ryoma well on his journey to the afterworld, but she could feel the smug gloating emanating from her father in waves. She didn't blame him. Anyone would be happy to outlive the man who whisked their wife away like a jealous lover.
Later that bright-night, she and Hayato came home to find a note tacked to their front door. After so much time spent going over Lord Kaden's letter again and again and again, she immediately recognized the royal seal.
Hayato snatched the letter and stormed inside. "It's just like this family to ruin my good mood."
"You know they get such a kick out of it," Rhajat half-joked.
Hayato unfolded the letter and read it aloud.
To the inheritors of the Wind Tribe,
In light of King Ryoma's tragic and untimely passing, I write to you now on behalf of the ascendant King Takumi.
The descendants of Chief Fuga are cordially invited to the burial of King Ryoma, to be held in one week from today. All attendees must be dressed in white. Outward displays of mourning are highly encouraged.
The services of Kagero of the Wind Tribe will no longer be needed. She has been informed of her termination and is expected to leave palace grounds after the burial. We've sent her belongings ahead of her, which should arrive the morning after this letter is posted.
At the insistence of our ascendant king, Rhajat of the Wind Tribe is expected relocate to Shirasagi Palace following the burial.
Forever in service,
Yukimura
Hayato's face fell. "Damnit… Lord Kaden said he wanted you by Summer Solstice—"
"And the new king wants me now."
"Why does he want you? His son already has a blasted bodyguard, he won't need another for at least a decade!"
"He didn't say anything about Prince Kiragi." But even as the words left her mouth, she worried over them. At the insistence of the ascendant king. Was King Takumi, with his newfound power, going to force her to serve his son instead of Selkie? Did her reputation precede her by that much?
"I hate having these letters in my house." Hayato folded the letter and burned it with the flame from one of their candles. "We can stand to be without their ugliness for one more night."
Guards came the next morning with Kagero's belongings, most of which came from her time in Shirasagi. Scores of training gear, armor, art supplies, traditional clothing and Nohrian scarves came piled high in boxes marked with the royal insignia. Rhajat's sight clouded over again and again as she tried to take it all in. She didn't understand—Kagero had never been materialistic, and she sent the majority of her income to the Wind Tribe. How did she accumulate so much?
"I don't know where we're going to put all this," Hayato said as he pensively shifted through one of the boxes. "Your mother's going to have to help me figure this out."
Hayato was trying to hide it, but Rhajat could tell that he was excited to have Kagero back home. Things were changing: she was leaving for Shirasagi, Grandfather Fuga was floating the idea of retirement, the tribe's sustainability was under pressure due to their low birth rate. Having his wife back would be a welcomed constant. (And maybe, if she admitted it to herself: he was happy because he missed her because he loved her.)
Nothing in Yukimura's letter said they would escorted to Shirasagi, so a few days later they embarked on foot. Halfway through their journey—when she was sure no one was around to hear—she asked her father what he really thought of King Takumi.
"Well, he's certainly settled into his new role fast enough. Ryoma wasn't dead a full day before he started issuing edicts." He shuttered at the sheer impropriety of it. "Knowing his personality, Hoshido will go back into isolation. He's already rescinded aide to the Chevois Resistance and refused to renew the peace treaty with Izumo. Last I heard he was in the middle of a tit-for-tat with Lady Elise over some border issues."
"Why her?"
She could hear it in his voice: he was trying not to smile. "It seems Queen Camilla refuses to acknowledge his squawking. I'm no Nohrian sympathizer, but… good for her."
"You don't like the new king?" she asked in a low voice.
"I don't—and frankly, I don't like his sisters either. Their father did right by the country: his policies raised the standard of living, extended Hoshido's life expectancy, expanded the royal family's prestige. He advocated for the empowerment of women and girls. He regularly met with tribal leaders; your grandfather even considered him a friend. His benevolence was unprecedented, and we all expected the same from his children. For years I was blinded by the propaganda, but now I see… none of them are an ounce like him."
Rhajat didn't know what to say. To know she'd been right all along left her feeling less satisfied than she thought she would. "So how should I act around them?"
"I'm sure the same rules of conduct apply for the others. As for King Takumi… he's always had a temper. Do you remember when we first went to Shirasagi, and Princess Selkie couldn't keep still? King Ryoma sent her out of the room as punishment, but King Takumi would've ordered a beating." He linked his arm with hers. "The only advice I can give you is to avoid him as much as you can."
Rhajat bit her lip. "But he's interested in me—"
"This is just him flexing his muscle. I'm sure his 'interest' isn't all that genuine."
"But what if it is?"
"Then you have recourse. That sly fox seems to like you, if only for his daughter's sake. And Asugi will be there to warn you if something truly bad is on the horizon." He patted her arm reassuringly. "Once you're settled in, exploit every opportunity to make a connection to the other royal children. Based on Asugi's visions, there's hope for them yet."
Rhajat sucked her teeth. "Make connections' is just another way of saying 'make friends.'"
"And? You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It is when you're no good at it."
Hayato rolled his eyes. "We really should have socialized you more."
"You think?" She remembered how it felt looking out the window, watching the children of the Wind Tribe play while she was stuck in her room, training. She had much in the way of power to show for it, but she still sometimes wondered about the road she was not permitted to travel.
"And there'll be no back-sass like that in the palace. One misplaced comment could cost you everything." He paused for a moment, considering. "On that note, King Takumi is famously sensitive to disrespect. If Queen Oboro shows any interest in you, form a relationship as quickly as you can. From what I've been told, she's the only one who can talk her husband down."
"What about Scarlet?"
"Queen Oboro despises Nohrians. It would be a miracle if Scarlet's allowed to attend the burial, let alone stay past that."
Rhajat frowned. "Where will she go? Cheve?"
"Are you crazy? The Nohrians have wanted Scarlet's head for years. She'll have little other choice than to go to the places stuck at sundown."
"You mean the border?" Rhajat couldn't say why she was asking. She had never given more than a passing thought to Scarlet before, but in that moment she felt strangely concerned for the widowed queen.
"Yes. Those barbarians might take her in if she's lucky."
Kagero told her about those places, the villages along the border where the Nohrian minority lived. With open animosity from the capital and little support from Nohr, they lived far below the poverty line and mostly lived on sustenance farming.
Hayato made a sudden turn, pulling her along. Rhajat kept her eyes on the ground, but could see that they were walking along the edge of the cliff that would put them on the road to the capital. She remembered looking off of it when she first went to Shirasagi with her parents; they were so high that she saw clouds. Now her eyes refusing to carry her that far, but she still knew falling would be a long way down. "I wonder how Prince Shiro feels about that."
"Probably not great. He's reportedly very close to his mother." Hayato tightened his grip around her arm. "On second thought, perhaps they will let her stay for the burial. I doubt even the new king is cruel enough to orphan his nephew overnight."
To know the eldest prince could also be separated from his mother by royal selfishness made her feel less alone—like Shiro were her equal after all. "It's times like this I wish I had Asugi's gift. I don't see much in my dreams anymore, but to hear what was happening in Shirasagi would be a blessing."
"… right." Hayato pulled her closer, away from the cliff's edge. "Daughter, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."
Her father wasn't one to shy away from hard topics, so the reluctance in his voice put her on edge. "Yes?"
"My father. Not Fuga—my biological father."
She hadn't been expecting that. She sometimes wondered about her grandmother, the conjurer; but she hardly ever thought about the man she married. "What about him?"
"I recently learned that he was a medium. He allowed spirits to possess his body in order to deliver messages and prophecies and omens."
Rhajat sucked her teeth. "I didn't know we had someone with that gift in our family! Why didn't you tell me?"
"I just found out myself. And it wasn't a gift, but a skill he chose to learn. There's a lot of risk in that line of work… and I don't just mean those posed by malevolent spirits."
"What do you mean?"
"People are afraid of what they don't understand. The same people who would seek out his help one day would shun him the next. Religious leaders gave speeches condemning him. Children either ran away or pelted him with stones. He was forced to live on the outskirts of the Wind Tribe, both for the comfort of others and his own safety."
"Sounds lonely, even by our standards."
"I'm sure it was. But Fuga said there was a very specific reason why my father allowed himself to be possessed."
"And? What was it?"
Hayato stopped. They had reached the top of the mountain; from there, it was a straight shot to Shirasagi Palace. She lifted her head. She knew that leaves were starting to grow, that flowers were blooming, that the earth was waking up again; but she couldn't see it. All there was was Hayato, who was looking at her with such pity that it made her heart drop. "Because it was the only time he could see."
Rhajat burst into tears. She'd been dreading this day. She spun away from Hayato, scrubbing at her eyes with her sleeve. He placed his hands on her shoulders. "It's okay. I'm sure he cried too, when he realized what was happening."
She hated that her father knew. His silence justified her denial, kept her clinging to the hope that her declining vision would someday plateau instead of disappear. "What am I going to do—?"
Suddenly, her father threw himself on top of her; Rhajat screamed. Hayato lifted himself by his hands and knees, shielding her with his body. "Bastards!" he growled. Another shirukin whizzed past them. "Show yourselves!"
The question was reflexive and mostly rhetorical; ninjas never revealed themselves, the wayward among them least of all. Hayato manifested an energy dome around them, and the shirukin bounced off it. "Rhajat…" his voice was strained. Hayato had never been good at defensive magic, and she knew he was absorbing the brunt of the attack. "Shield… make a shield…!"
Rhajat—her grandfather and the revelation far from her thoughts—repeated the process that brought her success during the attack on the kitsune: she cast her inner circle and shot out the dark veil from within her, knocking dozens of shuriken far from them. Hayato scrambled to his feet, reciting a memorized scroll; a tiger spirit sprang from his chest, barreling towards the forest. He grabbed Rhajat by the arm and pulled her up.
The world was a swirling mess of green trees and grey skies and dark splotches and the scary red light radiating from her father. They were surrounded; she couldn't leave him to fight alone, they'd never make it. She recited what she thought was the horse scroll—nothing came of it. She repeated a slightly modified version, and still nothing. She wracked her brain for the correct order of words, but the more she thought the more scrambled the incantation became until it was hardly distinguishable from what was going on around her. Desperate, she blurted out the rat spell—long-memorized as the only one she was allowed to look at growing up. The rat leaped from her chest and scurried into the trees.
She sent several in rapid succession, directing them wherever she sensed any movement. Her rats did well to stop the shuriken while Hayato's tiger targeted the ninjas, but what emerged from the forest was something neither of them could have predicted.
Rhajat only caught a passing glance when it grazed past her, the phosphorescent animal spirit aimed at her father. It was enormous, barreling through the air with the precision and might expected of a legendary beast. The wind manifesting around the dragon spun her around, and she saw Hayato by his light knocked towards the edge of the cliff.
In that moment, she wasn't concerned with the ninja's attacking, or the underhanded mage walking among them. She paid no mind to the dragon spirit who could be summoned again at any moment. She didn't think about the shuriken embedded in her left arm and right shoulder blade, the way the tiny knives ripped her clothes and took off chunks of her hair. She could only scramble forward to save her father from falling past the clouds.
Rhajat caught Hayato's hand before he flew off the edge, but his weight immediately dragged her down. With his other hand he clawed away at her iron grip, prying her fingers off to save her from being pulled over with him.
"No—!"
In an instant, the weight was gone. And there was Hayato, his brilliant crimson light falling further away from her until it was gone from her vision, never to return.