“A maidservant?” Jimmu ventured.

Annoyance flashed in the girl’s eyes, and then her expression turned wistful. “A maidservant,” she repeated. “You know, there are times when . . .” She hesitated; her lips twitched and the annoyance came back into her eyes. “Leave at once!” she commanded. “Commoners are forbidden to enter the private quarters, unless they have been directly summoned. If I find you sneaking around here again, I’ll inform my father.”

“Your father?” said Jimmu.

The girl straightened her shoulders and raised her chin.

“My father is Lord Ankan,” she announced. “I am Lady Takeko.”

“Forgive me, My Lady!” begged Jimmu. “I didn’t know. I—”

Lady Takeko waved him away.

Jimmu backed his way along the corridor, bowing continuously. He turned a corner, straightened up, and blew out a long breath.

That was a lucky escape! he thought. You were so clumsy and careless, you let a girl catch you out. You’ll have to do a lot better than that.

His emotions were tangled. He felt angry at himself, relieved that Lady Takeko had seemed to believe him, insulted by her arrogance, and another feeling, one that he could not identify.

Forget her! he thought. Don’t think about her again. Remember, you may have to kill her one day.

Six days after Jimmu’s encounter with Lady Takeko, Lord Ankan rode in through the outer gates of Mitsukage Castle, accompanied by his personal bodyguard of four samurai, each with a stern expression and watchful eyes.

Jimmu was among the guards lining the bridge across the moat. They stood to attention with shouldered spears, right hands held across their chests in a welcoming salute.

This is the man who robbed you of your parents and your home, Jimmu thought. This is the man who took away the life you might have had, without a care. This is the greedy demon who ate your childhood.

He struggled to control the anger and loathing that surged inside him.

Lord Ankan was encased in black armor. His iron breastplate had been engraved with the Choju emblem. His helmet was topped by a piece of white metal shaped into a pair of horns. Except for his eyes, his face was concealed behind a black-lacquered mask, its features twisted into a warlike grimace. He resembled an insect with a metal carapace. He was a man forged from iron, with a hard, unfeeling heart.

You’re going to kill him, Jimmu thought. Your face is the last thing he’ll see before he dies. The last thing he’ll hear will be your voice, whispering your father’s name.

He held himself erect as Lord Ankan’s horse trotted by.

4

MITSUKAGE CASTLE ISE PROVINCE

SUMMER 1572

Though he had resolved to do otherwise, Jimmu often found his thoughts turning to Lady Takeko in the days that followed. The memory of her face returned to haunt him at unexpected moments. She was, he came to realize, more than pretty, and this was a puzzle to him. How could an evil monster of a man like Choju Ankan father such a beautiful daughter? True, she was spoiled and arrogant, but could there be darker sides to her nature? Was a malevolent being concealed behind her lovely face?