Aojiko watched him as Taoru glanced over his shoulder at Lian. The girl still clung to his back, her tears visibly wetting his linen tunic. Something soft passed over his face as he gazed at her, a gentleness that Aojiko had never experienced from her own father.
The moment was fleeting, in the next second he was fixing his piercing stare on Nagisa. Then, he raised his arm and summoned a crackling wisp of fire to his palm. It danced above his skin, casting a faint, warm glow into the otherwise cool air of the palace.
Silence hung like thick fog in the air following the simple feat of magical skill Taoru displayed. Aojiko couldn’t believe he had exposed himself in order to spare his daughter. It touched a nerve in her heart, reminding her of a similar scenario long ago when a father had the power to protect his child from a terrible fate. Only that time, he had gazed upon her with contempt and then turned his back.
He could have walked out of here a free man, but he didn’t… The fool. All he’s done now is condemn them both.
“So my suspicions were correct…” Nagisa breathed the words, her eyes sparkling in the light from the dancing fire in Taoru’s hand. “The Hiryuten family crest bears a striking resemblance to a symbol I found in an old tome, the symbol of the Dragon Warriors…” She remained spellbound for another moment longer before finally forcing herself to look away. In that instant, her severe exterior returned, her gaze hard and superior. “You are their descendent, then. The last of a noble line of magic-attuned warriors…”
Taoru extinguished the flame and lowered his arm with a sigh. “And if I am?” he asked, his voice flat.
His question brought a wicked little grin to Nagisa’s face. “Even if you aren’t, I still have great use for you.”
A sick feeling squirmed in Aojiko’s stomach, and her brand itched uncomfortably. She had to stop herself from reaching over to rub at it. She didn’t want to see this proud man reduced to a slave or to think about what all ‘services’ he’d have to perform for his warlord. He was doing the unthinkable, giving up everything, and it wouldn’t even matter in the end. It didn’t seem fair.
“If you want my service, then you’ll release my daughter, now,” he growled, making it plain he was done talking until then.
Nagisa sniffed at the air dismissively as though a foul smell were upon it. “Am I just to take your word, then? I don’t think so. I will need reassurances you’ll remain loyal no matter what errands I send you on.” There was a dark gleam in her eyes, her lips almost smiling again. “Come. Kneel before me and swear your undying fealty. Only then will I let your daughter go.”
To Aojiko’s surprise, Taoru still didn’t hesitate. He took a step forward, his face a mask of dire resolve. She could see to his very heart and knew this decision went against every part of him, yet he made it without reservation for the sake of his only child. The depth of that love was staggering and filled the air Zosara with a strange, foreign emotion. Was it respect? Admiration?
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“Dad, no…” Lian remained grounded in the same spot as before, but her fingers had not relinquished their hold on Taoru’s garment. Her full lips trembled, her cheeks wet with tears. The same love Aojiko had seen in Taoru existed just as strongly in his daughter. “Tradition—”
Taoru silenced her by half turning and touching her cheek. There was no need for words between them. Whatever contention had existed before was gone, erased in that single gesture. It was not as Aojiko had first thought, that Taoru would be angry and unforgiving. Their familial bond would endure, stronger and deeper than before.
Aojiko blinked back her own tears, her heart aching from the pain of old wounds. She felt helpless to stop the great injustice unfolding before her. Warning Taoru of the danger he faced would bring her unspeakable pain and possibly even death. She couldn’t bear to die as a slave! She was determined to be free someday, and so, no matter how much she hated it, she kept her mouth clenched shut.
As ordered, the fire Zosara knelt in front of the dais, though he did not bow his head as was customary. He gazed defiantly up at Nagisa, whose thin lips quirked into a cruel smile; the warlord was looking forward to breaking Taoru as she had once broken Aojiko. The thought made her stomach churn.
“Now,” Nagisa held out her arm, “take my hand and swear yourself to me.”
Taoru hesitated. This was not the usual manner in which a knight or soldier was sworn into service, and it was clear he had some misgivings.
Don’t do it. Don’t touch her. Aojiko kept her face impassive, but her hands balled into fists at her sides. She wanted to scream, Take your daughter and run away from this place!
He glanced back using his peripheral vision so he could glimpse Lian. The sight of her only strengthened his conviction. He reached out and placed his hand in Nagisa’s, opening his mouth at the same time to swear the cursed oath. Instead of words, only a gasp of surprised pain came out.
The fire Zosara tried to pull away, but it was too late. More than just physical might held his hand in place. Invisible strands of magic wound upward, connecting him to the warlord as though a rope were tied about their forearms. With his other hand, he reached over and tugged up his sleeve. The first traces of the brand were showing as sizzling flesh just above his inner wrist.
This time Aojiko couldn’t help herself. She touched her own mark and shuddered, recalling the tremendous agony of the first few moments she’d been connected to Nagisa. It had spread over her body like wildfire through parched underbrush. The pain in her arm had been the worst of all; she imagined having it slowly cut off would have been easier to endure.
To his credit, Taoru did not cry out again. He locked his gaze with Nagisa’s, fierce gold against impenetrable black, and gritted his teeth together in determination. Was he actually trying to resist the spell? Could that even be possible?
Aojiko frowned, refusing to give credence to the hope that whispered through her.
Behind the pair of them, Lian was reacting now. “Niami!” she shouted, but she didn’t make it more than a step or two before Juzo grabbed her around the neck and roughly yanked her back. Lian did not relent. She threw an elbow into his side, and when it only met armor, she tried a new tactic; she sank her teeth into his unprotected hand.
Juzo growled a curse and shoved Lian away from him toward the floor, intending for her to fall. Guankaran caught her first. A momentary glare was sent in the captain’s direction, but the self-proclaimed carpenter swept the expression away a second later. By now, Lian had recovered and returned her attention back to her father.
Having seen enough, Aojiko finally stepped in, blocking Lian’s path before she could attempt to interfere again. “You can’t help him,” she said, her voice as chilling as a wintery mountain breeze. “It will be over soon, and then he will belong to the warlord.”