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CHAPTER XLII—THE PIECES COME TOGETHER
With every passing moment Rōkura spent with Salomé, she liked the girl even more than she had before. She was quiet women, powerful with a blade and capable with magic.
The way she opened up to Rōkura, as if she simply trusted her, made her heart fill with guilt. It wouldn’t be long before Lady Victoire—and by extension, quite possibly Salomé herself, would be dead.
Rōkura didn’t doubt for a moment that this woman wouldn’t give up her life in defense of her lady.
She took pause. “Are you all right, Rōkura? Are you tired?”
“I’m… yes, I am,” she said. Telling the truth. “But it’s not just that. Having the Soulless Night here in this house. It’s affected me more than I thought it would.”
They were still standing in the corridor below the stairwell where Lord Asher and Lady Victoire had disappeared to. Because they had no plans laid out in writing, there was no danger to taking her up to the roof.
Even still, Rōkura was nervous.
Just hours ago they had plotted the demise of the lady there. This is terrible. I—we—are terrible people.
Hans word’s rung in her ears, the words he had practically spat at them all when they were in Lord Asher’s sitting room. His reaction to the small blue-eyed man’s words spoke to the credibility and threat of what he said, the threat of Ogai-sama over them all.
How could a god be so evil and conniving? He’s little better than the people who sacrificed me and my parents over that alter.
Salomé wanted to ask what that bad blood was between them and Rōkura, but even though she was open with the things she told this oni girl, that didn’t mean she had to return the sentiment.
She finally spoke. “Lady Victoire helped me when I thought no one would. I parents… they were murdered, you see.”
Rōkura gasped. “Truly?”
She nodded. “Mm.”
“What… what happened?”
Salomé smiled. She couldn’t freely describe what happened after that. Not without incriminating herself. And besides, she barely knew this Rōkura girl. She couldn’t very well tell them that Lady Victoire had helped her exact justice on the people who killed her parents.
Without prying, Rōkura studied Salomé’s face—that little enigmatic smirk on her lips. Something told her that Salomé and herself had far more in common than either of them knew.
Another presence came toward them from around the corner of the hall. Outside carriage trundled noisily over the paved path and away from the mansion. Rōkura saw that it was Sir Withersbee.
“Hello,” Salomé said.
“Good evening,” Withersbee said. He looked to Rōkura.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s Lord Bellefeuille. He requires your assistance with a matter.”
Rōkura let out a heavy breath, controlling herself so that she didn’t shutter with apprehension and evident nervousness. “Of course he does,” she said. She couldn’t help but glance up at the stairs before the gave Salomé a final nod. “Thank you, Sir Withersbee.”
As she left them there, she heard Sir Withersbee ask Salomé something, but she wasn’t listening to his words as all of her thoughts fell on what she and Hans were about to do.
She knew exactly while she was being called. Swallowing, Rōkura hoped that Hans would offer to do this part alone. But then…
No—I don’t want that. I have to do this.
The oni just didn’t know if she could.
“All right,” said Hans. “Out—all of you. You can go home for the night.” He shooed the scullions away and they all left the kitchens. The area was mostly clean now, so Sir Withersbee wouldn’t be left with too much work to do.
One of the scullions turned, asking about transport.
“Yes, yes,” said Hans. “Carriages are being called at this very moment.” He sighed. I don’t see why I am doing this when Sir Withersbee is the master of this house.
Once they were gone, they now had free and easy access to the cellar. Hans opened the pantry and glanced at the heavy door. “All ready.”
Footsteps sounded behind him and he turned.
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“Hans,” Rōkura said.
He nodded. “Rōkura.”
There was a moment between them. The house was still not empty, but most of the partying was over. The musicians had been sent home and only a few of the noble guests were still there, those who chose to sit near the fire and drink and talk.
That’s usually how it was when the party was not an overnight affair. When it was, the drinking tended to go on late into the night. They would all be gone before long.
“We leave through the cellar, make our way out onto the road. Sir Withersbee has already left us some horses where our tunnel exists.”
She nodded, swallowed.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine, Hans.”
He hesitated. You don’t seem all right, Rōkura. “We should go find a good place to wait. I’m told Lady Victoire’s carriage will be heading up Ōuno street and then she will make her way along Shezu. We can set up an ambush anywhere we like.”
“Hans?” she said, her heart thundering in her chest.
“Yes?”
“Lady Victoire is our target.”
“Indeed?”
“No one else dies.”
He took pause, knowing full well they could not guaranty anything of the sort. However—they could certainly try. “If that is how you wish it,” he said with a smile and pushed his glasses higher up his nose, “then that is how it shall be, Rōkura.”
“Arigatou.”
Asher sighed contentedly as he swirled his glass of wine. Victoire sat in a chair beside him, swirling wine in her own glass.
“This is nice,” she said.
“I’m rather enjoying myself.”
“Ash.”
“Mm?”
“Come to my estate. I’ll throw a grand ball next week.”
“Hmm.”
“Oh—come now. Do not tell me you are too busy. Come to my estate.”
He looked at her, smiled. It will never be. Gods, this isn’t going to be as easy as I thought it would. He nodded. “Very well.”
She clinked her glass against his. “To deepening relationships?”
He chortled. “Perhaps.”
“To the possibility of deepening relationships.”
“Better.”
Despite feeling taken with Lord Asher Boon, a man who had gotten in her way more times than she could count, she did indeed enjoy his company. And he’s the most eligible bachelor in Shihon—what, who isn’t from this country that is.
He was one of her own, and to Victoire, that meant they were in a way, allies by not only design, but purely by natural suggestion. “Ash.”
“Yes?”
“Why did you invite me up here? I mean, really?”
“I’m going to have you assassinated,” he said with a smile.
She laughed. “Oh? Pray tell, how will you do it?”
“I’m still considering the methods. Poisoned wine, perhaps? Bandits on the road. No—that wouldn’t work.” He sighed heavily.
“Perhaps you are the one who will be assassinated.”
“Indeed?”
“Oh yeas. I quite know I can defeat you in a duel at any time, even with your luck.”
He laughed. “We could be a powerful together,” she said.
“Even as tacit allies,” he offered.
She nodded. “Yes. And even stronger if we were more.”
Surprised, he lifted a golden eyebrow. What is she implying? “What are you getting at, Lady Victoire.”
She chortled musically. “You will have to wait until next week.” She got up, and do did Asher. It was the thing to do for decorum. “I will take me leave of you now.”
He bowed. “It has been my please, Lady Victoire.”
She smiled, led the way back to the stairs. Asher followed.
“Oh,” she said in surprise. “There you are Salomé. Where is that oni girl?”
“She had to assist her master, Mistress.”
“Indeed.” She turned to Asher. “Ash.”
“Yes, my dear?”
“Make sure you bring that Lord Bellefeuille fellow and his bodyguard. The one with the glowing eyes?”
“Rōkura.”
“Yes, that is right.”
“I will indeed bring him along short of knocking him unconscious and tying him in a sack.”
Victoire smiled. “But do make sure you bring Rōkura, even if you do have to tie her up. “I want that girl in my employ. She’s absolutely gorgeous.”
“They already say you’re the jewel of this city—do you have to outdo me in absolutely every conceivable way?”
“Oh please, your master servant has a mustache I could swing on,” she said. “You’re not even trying.”
They both laughed.
“Let me escort you to your carriage.”
“Why, thank you, Ash.”
The cellar was dark and dry, and thankfully there were none of those Kurri Warriors from before. But as the thought struck her, Rōkura wished there were indeed Kurri Warriors down here.
Had they been sick and retching their guts out, this whole assassination business would be foiled. At least for tonight. But that would give Rōkura a little more time to think about things.
As it was now—
“You are very quiet, Oni-san. Are you all right?”
She sighed, lifting her torch a little higher. She could see far better than before since the Kurri Warriors weren’t spreading their Blackout magic everywhere. “I don’t like this, Hans.”
Nodding to himself, he had to admit, he didn’t find it savory, but he would do what he must. I’ve done far worse before. “Where is Shinjiro?” he asked, trying to get her thoughts onto something else. “I half expected him to be dogging our heels right now.”
Rōkura glanced back. She had forgotten about him. With everything going on, she wasn’t surprised. Her nerves were still frayed from meeting the Soulless Night who had only left a little while ago.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“Perhaps he found a bed to rest in. I noticed he was looking even more worn than he was earlier today.”
She nodded. “Mm.”
“I think it’s this way,” Hans said, moving past a pile of broken crates. They found a bricked tunnel with a door. Hans pulled it open with a creak and a shutter of old wood.
With every step, their movements echoed in the hollow spaces.
“I hate it down here,” she said, shivering.
“Not to worry. All those Kurri Warriors are long gone.”
“I know, but still. Just remembering what they did to me…”
They came out of the tunnel at the base of a hill. In the distance an owl hooted as the bright light of the moon shone down on them.
“Here,” said Hans.
The horses snorted softly under the tree where they had been left. When Rōkura untied the reigns, she found her hand shaking like a leaf. I don’t know if I can do this…
Glancing over at Rōkura where her luminous eyes flicked with every blink of her eyes, Hans regarded her, wondering if she would be able to carry this out. Perhaps… Perhaps he should be the one to do this.
But I’m not certain I can handle Salomé and the other guards. Not on my own, at least.
“Goodbye,” said Asher and he waved.
Lady Victoire waved from inside the carriage and the driver snapped the reigned. The wagon wheeled out and trundled away from him.
Sir Withersbee came on from behind.
“Now we wait and find out,” he said, his voice grim.
“Indeed,” said Asher with a sigh. At first he had almost been excited about this—or rather, chose to be. Why do something that you have no choice in with a heavy heart?
But now, when matters fell to it…
He sighed again.
“Adrian,” he said.
Adrian blinked. Lord Asher Boone almost never used his personal name. “My lord?”
“Bring me something to drink. I need to brood.”
“Yes, my lord.”