Below is the first chapter from my newest book Tamamo. If you like what you read, you can buy the ebook or paperback on Amazon. The story takes place in an alternative Heian period. Here’s the blurb:
Tamamo grew up in the imperial court, where the space between words mattered more than the words themselves, where battles were fought with poetry. As the favored of the Emperor Junnin, Tamamo knew well how poetry could cut. As the adopted daughter of a once-great noble family, she had no business loving the emperor, nor should he had loved her. After all, that was for the prominent Fujiwara family to decide. It didn’t help that she also had a secret: She was a fox.
Outside the capital, poetry had been exchanged for sharpened steel. Determined to return to power, the former empress and her family gathered their forces. Caught between the reality of war and the intrigues of the court, Tamamo and Emperor Junnin plan a life together and a way to unify the country without the need for blood.However, Tamamo’s adoptive father has other plans. Plans that involve the true nature of Tamamo’s secret, plans that shatter Tamamo’s heart.
Forced to join with the former empress to find answers, Tamamo must learn what it means to be a fox. The answers will change not only her destiny but also the future of the three great families.
Chapter 1
Tamamo sat on her haunches. As her father glared down at her, the rush of the hunt faded. Mud and leaves and twigs clung to her fox fur, and her chest still heaved from her run back home. Several burrs tangled uncomfortably on her swishing tail.
“I wasn’t seen, Father,” she said. “And if I was, they would’ve seen a fox, not me.”
Her father crossed his arms over his court silks. “I won’t have you acting below your station or ruining my plans.” He turned his back to her. “I won’t talk to you in your current form.”
Tamamo bowed to the tatami. “Yes, Father.” In a flash of light, she shifted into her human form. Mud fell to the floor with her abrupt change in shape, but some still matted her long black hair. Tamamo put on the robe their servant Yuse had laid out for her. She sat on her knees as was proper, but her toes fidgeted with her pent-up energy now that she lacked a tail.
“I wanted to make sure the emperor was safe, Father.”
He turned back to her. A smile crept to his eyes despite his stern mouth. “He has bodyguards for that.”
“If you can consider those moon-skin men guards. If the boar had decided to attack, I don’t think their bad poetry would’ve protected Junnin—the emperor.” A flush touched her cheeks at her slip.
The smile in her father’s eyes infected his lips, contrasting with his voice. “The future empress doesn’t go running through the forest. We have to be careful, or all that I’ve worked for will evaporate.”
“Which is why I followed the emperor.” Tamamo lifted her chin to gaze at her father. “I couldn’t bear to see him hurt. Isn’t that why you have me practice with Kotaro?”
Her father sighed. “We just have to be careful, Tamamo. Your success means too much to our family.”
“I know,” Tamamo said. “I should prepare for today’s lunch. The emperor will want an account of his adventure.”
Father rubbed his arms and shivered. “Keep alert. Your rise in favor has been noted by the Fujiwara. As has mine.”
Tamamo’s eyes widened. “Junnin isn’t in danger, is he?”
Father shook his head. “As I said, keep alert. For both yourself and the emperor.”
As her father left, Tamamo bowed, fingertips to the floor. She didn’t like what her father’s words suggested.
Yuse appeared a moment after Father left. The aging woman didn’t say anything at Tamamo’s appearance nor did her pleasant expression change, but Tamamo could almost hear a tsk. Father had ordered a washtub be brought into her room and filled the moment he had seen her come home. Of course, this wasn’t the first time Tamamo had returned with half the forest in her fur. Because of Tamamo’s reality as a fox, her father insisted on the unusual practice. Most people washed and dipped into the springs of the palace’s bathhouse. Tamamo felt terrible each time she bathed for how it made the old woman carry buckets of heated water into her room and had to clean up the water splashed no the wooden floorboards. The old woman never complained, even within Tamamo’s fox hearing. Of course, Yuse didn’t know about Tamamo’s hearing nor her real identity. Only Father and Kotaro did.
And soon the emperor.
Tamamo slipped back out of her clothes and settle onto a stool near a wooden tub so Yuse could scrub her. She hoped Yuse didn’t notice her blush. Junnin would soon know the truth. If the Emperor would wake before her—her heart fluttered at the thought. Why couldn’t she keep her human shape while she slept? It would make everything so much easier! If Junnin would find her that way, would he accept her? Or would he have her put out of the palace?
“I would rather be killed than that,” she whispered to herself. Father had said he had a plan for that problem too. At least until Tamamo could tell Junnin. She knew it had to be sooner than later, but she also knew the fox stories the court told, that foxes could curse people and manipulate them. “If only it was that easy,” she muttered.
She forced the thoughts aside for another time.
“Did you say something, Honored One?” Yuse asked.
“N-nothing.” Tamamo twirled a lock of hair around her finger. She had to find her courage. She had to tell him. He would understand.
Yuse folded Tamamo’s soiled clothes with undisguised disdain. “I say it all the time, but you need to be more courtly, Honored One.”
Tamamo frowned. “I’ve told you not to call me that.”
“I think the empress—former empress—would like you,” Yuse said. “She would be pleased that her brother will marry you.”
Tamamo felt her cheeks heat again. “Why do you think that?”
Yuse smiled with a faraway look in her eyes. “I just know she would.”
“Do you miss serving the imperial family?”
Yuse shook her head. “I am grateful to the Minamoto family and your father.” She stroked the clothes on her arm. “I could never speak so familiarly with anyone except the empress and you.” The old woman looked away and whispered too low for human ears. “Granddaughters I never had.”
She sighed. “I suppose your coming marriage to His Eminence has this old woman reminiscing of your girlhood. You’ve become a fine young woman.”
“I want you to continue serving me in the palace.”
Yuse froze a moment, and Tamamo failed to read the expressions that crossed her face. The old woman bowed low. “I would like that. Serving a new Empress.”
Empress. The word hung in the air. Tamamo had thought about the implications of marrying Junnin, but with Yuse’s words, the reality of it, the duty of providing an heir, of managing the other wives Junnin would eventually take, dropped on her shoulders. Sensing her mood change, Yuse went quiet.
Bathing and scrubbing away the forest took longer than Tamamo wanted, even with Yuse’s practiced hands. The old woman remained quiet as she worked. She always remained quiet, and Tamamo wondered about what she thought. But she wouldn’t ask. If only the old woman didn’t scrub like she was washing a pot! It would have been worse if most of the mud hadn’t dropped away when Tamamo returned to her human skin. Tamamo didn’t claim to know how her shape changes worked. Fish couldn’t describe how they swam, nor could birds describe how they flew. Likewise, she just knew how to change her shape by concentrating and keeping that shape in her mind. There were limits, of course.
After Yuse finished with her hair, Tamamo put on a fine-layered robe patterned with plum blossoms, Junnin’s favorite flower, and hurried to the Imperial Gardens. Father’s lecture and Yuse’s washing had both taken too much time!
When she arrived, the emperor stood under one of the ancient cryptomeria trees with Yuko and Mina Fujiwara. The fine hairs on Tamamo’s forearm bristled at the sight of the two cousins. They attached themselves to the emperor every possible moment since Tamamo had caught the emperor’s attention. She straightened her shoulders and strode forward.
The emperor looked up as she approached, and she felt her heart leap. His smile morphed from bored politeness to joy. Tamamo couldn’t help but return the grin. Of course, the Fujiwara cousins noticed.
“Why, Tamamo, you just missed our Lord’s poem about his hunt,” Yuko said.
Mina’s thin hair blew across her plump face. “But you are just in time to hear my response:
Grand he rode
through forests of fear
Spear ever at the ready.”
The emperor ignored them as Tamamo approached. He smelled of floral soap and of sandalwood. He always smelled of sandalwood. His hair was still a little damp. The emperor said:
“The forests and meadows,
bedewed
Compares not to the willow.”
Tamamo felt her face heat at the poem. The other women frowned in unison. It took her a moment to recover enough to offer a responding poem:
“The willow trembles
at the voice
of the rushing river.”
She winced at the poem, but he beamed at her. Normally, she could do better, but her wits felt scrambled. The presence of the cousins shouldn’t have surprised her, but today was supposed be a rare chance to be alone with Junnin. The emperor took her hand and led her to the quilt spread on the moss. A tray of steaming tea and pastries waited on one corner of the large quilt. The touch of his skin on hers sent a pleasant jolt through her. Tamamo smirked at the other women. After all, Kotaro often said politics and love were spears in a woman’s hands. The other women followed, trying to keep frowns from their faces.
“Please tell me about your hunt, Junnin,” she said as she settled onto the quilt. The Fujiwaras gasped at her use of the emperor’s name.
Junnin rested his hand on top of hers. He always wore the same expression whenever she spoke his name. His eyebrows raised, and his eyes widened, and the corners of his mouth twitched toward his ears before he brought them back under control. Tamamo suspected he had heard his name only a few times in his life before he had met her.
She would make sure he heard it a lot more.
“It wasn’t much of a hunt.” He lounged toward her. “We mostly rode through the forest while my courtiers composed bad poetry about the trees.”
The Fujiwara women joined them on the quilt, keeping a proper distance from Junnin. Tamamo knew the emperor’s closeness to her rankled them. Junnin kept his hand over hers.
“His Divinity is just being modest,” Mina said. “I’m certain he killed a boar or even a tengu.” She took a breath and recited:
“The son of Amaterasu flew
faster than an arrow
through the nests of the tengu.”
Yuko bit into a pastry and made a face at her cousin. “That is a bad poem, even for you.”
“How about this?” Mina looked at me:
“So, the stream lays low
dreaming of the sun
reaching beyond her station.”
The emperor turned on the cousins. His voice edged, and his eyebrows drew down to create deep furrows on his smooth forehead. “I will not have you insult the Lady Minamoto. She is to be my empress.”
The Fujiwaras gaped, and Tamamo felt her heart stop. At the same time, a heady flush warmed her to her hairline. The gardens went silent. Even the summer insects stopped their chirruping. Tamamo bowed her head, so her long hair hid her hot face. The moment lengthened as the emperor realized what he had announced and how improper it had violated court etiquette.
He cleared his throat:
“As every day meets its end
so too must the moment
of cherry blossoms.”
The cousins bowed to the quilt before him and backed away on their hands and knees through the moss lawn. After they backed to the proper distance, they stood and bowed and stalked away. Yuko shot a quick glare over her shoulder at Tamamo. When the emperor turned toward Tamamo, she bowed as her father had taught her. When she shifted to back away, the emperor spoke.
“Please stay, T-Tamamo.”
She froze, keeping her head down to hide her face.
“Does my desire displease you?” Junnin asked. The wind covered his soft words. “Is that why you can’t look at me?”
Tamamo looked at him then. Only a few people could look upon him. Even fewer could share the same space. Her father often emphasized that, but she hadn’t given it much thought until that moment. After all, Junnin was Junnin. He was the quiet man who liked pastries and got the sugary powder on his chin. He was the man who sent a thrill through her by just touching her hand.
He was also the man who was in constant danger, the man she promised herself to protect.
“I had wanted to announce it properly,” he said. “But those girls… They are Fujiwara.” He sighed. “I can already see the problems my slip will cause. For you, especially. I—”
Tamamo cut him off by touching her finger to his lips. “I’m not displeased, Junnin.” She tasted his name, and it tasted different from when she slipped and spoke it to her father. Her cheeks ached from her smile. She doubted she could smile as wide even in her fox shape. “Far from it.” She realized she touched his warm lips and snatched her finger away, cradling it behind her back.
Junnin wore a giddy smile, and a flush filled his pale cheeks. “I will make the formal announcement soon. But I am worried for you.” He gazed into the cryptomeria’s gnarled limbs overhead. “The Fujiwara family won’t be pleased. I’m not blind to how they want me to marry either Yuko or Mina, but I also know they will parade more of their women for me to pick from.”
Tamamo didn’t know what to say. Her brain fluttered like a butterfly caught in a whirlwind. Junnin continued to watch her with a bemused expression, but she saw something else hidden behind his grin, something in the way his eyes crinkled. She realized he was afraid for her and perhaps even of her. Tamamo gripped her thoughts tight and composed a poem she hoped was proper for the moment:
“The river flows
to the awaiting sea
eternal promise kept.”
His shoulders sagged as he let out a long, breath. He replied:
“The thread
thin gossamer silk
even Amaterasu cannot cut.”
He shook his head. “I’m worried about what they would do to you. I’m safe, but I am limited in how I can protect you.”
Tamamo straightened. “I’m am not as helpless as I appear, my l-love.” She swallowed. “Father had me learn how to fight with a spear and with a knife.” And with her jaws, but she couldn’t tell him that. The weight of her secret crashed in on her at that thought, and her buoyant mood evaporated.
“You are pale.” He made to touch her cheek but stopped. Tamamo wished he hadn’t stopped himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you with all of this. I should have taken it slower and not just blurt it. It’s not the first time I—”
She clasped his hovering hand with both of hers. “No. It’s not that—” The words caught in her throat. She had to tell her secret, but would he still gaze at her as he did at that moment once he knew? The doubt wormed through her joy.
“It’s fine. You should rest. Please don’t worry. I will make sure everything works out.” He squeezed her hand. “My empress.”
At that moment, Kuzichi Fujiwara approached and bowed to the moss. “Forgive the interruption, Heavenly Sovereign. I have news. The Taira have begun amassing an army.”
Junnin straightened, and his face hardened. “So, they finally made their move.” When he looked back to her, renewed fear stood out on his face. “Please forgive my leaving so soon, Tamamo. We will speak later.” He stood.
Tamamo bowed to the quilt as he left. She listened to him discuss the threat of the army until he passed beyond the range of her fox hearing. Then, she stood and nodded at the servant who waited a distance away, close enough to eavesdrop but not close enough to be obvious about it. The man was likely another Fujiwara. Her father employed a few servants and listeners, but her family was too small to employ the numbers the Fujiwara did.
Tamamo strolled through the garden, trying to appear unhurried to the servants and soldiers and gardeners in the area. No double several of them had heard Junnin’s blurt. Her legs wobbled as much as the time she had tried shape-shifting into a giant spider. And walking took as much concentration as those eight legs required. She wanted to yelp and run and jump. Empress! Instead, she mustered all her training and glided, back straight, over the moss. The summer breeze cooled her cheeks, and she savored the scents of evergreens and the faint lingering wood scent of Junnin. As she neared the entrance of the garden, Tamamo smelled the dense floral scents of Mina and Yuko.
The cousins waited for her at the door with their arms crossed. Mirrored frowns marred their faces.
“Don’t think you will become his empress,” Mina said. “The emperor won’t marry a low woman like you.”
“Our family will make sure of it,” Yuko said. “We were promised to the emperor since birth. What are you? A Minamoto! You are lucky our family allows you to remain at court. Your clan is too low for you to even see the emperor. How you managed that is no doubt an unsavory method.”
Tamamo suppressed a growl that bubbled into her throat.
“Oh, you try to threaten us with your glare.” Mina strolled a circle around Tamamo. “Or are you frustrated? Yuko and I decided to sneak into the emperor’s bedroom tonight.”
Tamamo’s eyebrows climbed.
Mina chuckled. “Even a bumpkin like you understands what that means. I will be found in the morning and then named empress. What the emperor said today won’t matter after I’m found with him in the morning.”
Tamamo gawked at them, unable to say anything. Normally a man who wanted to marry would sneak into his bride’s bedroom, and instead of sneaking away before the morning, he would allow himself to be seen by the family. After a celebratory breakfast together, the family would acknowledge the union. The emperor couldn’t well skulk around, so the marriage practice had to reverse.
“You can’t spend the night with the emperor,” Mina said.
“Mina, we agreed I would do it. I’m the better choice,” Yuko said.
Mina smirked at her cousin. “I suspect I know more than you do of such matters.”
Tamamo regained her voice. “You can’t see the emperor without invitation. The guards would kill you or throw you in prison,” Tamamo said.
“And you just revealed how low-born you are.” Mina walked over to the imperial guard standing next to the entrance. The man stood statue-still. Not even the man’s eyes moved. “All of the people privileged to see the emperor are a part of the family. Isn’t that right, Ki?” She patted the man’s armored chest with the back of her hand.
“You were only able to get close to His Heavenly Sovereign because of your father’s underhandedness,” Yuko said. “We have a right to see and marry him.”
Tamamo straightened her clothes to keep from throttling the women. She allowed an edge to grow in the voice. “My father is an honorable man. That is what made him stand out among all your family members at the court.”
“What made him stand out is he’s our pet Minamoto,” Mina said.
Yuko shrugged. “Think what you want, but after tonight, I will be the empress.”
“I have the best chance.” Mina stalked toward her cousin. “We had agreed on that. You can be his second wife.”
“You are not the only one with skills, Mina.”
The women grew louder as they argued, forgetting Tamamo still watched. Tamamo used the chance to slip away. She stalked through the walled streets of the inner palace and toward her home in the low court official quarter. The guards didn’t challenge her—they knew she was the emperor’s favorite—but she wondered just how many of them were a part or on the payroll of the Fujiwara. She hadn’t given them much thought in the past. The guards were just like the knots and whorls in the wooden walls. Just there.
“Father will know what to do,” she whispered to herself.
She reached the park that separated the quarter from the rest of the palace when she heard the hushed sound of her father’s voice and a voice she didn’t recognize. Their voices drifted above the bubbling artificial stream that divided the grounds. Only a fox could hear them at that distance. Even for her hearing, their words weren’t clear. Curiosity pushed her to move closer. She crept into the shade of the cultivated pines that bordered the stream, sniffing the air to pick out her father’s scent. Her father never held any meetings outside. As she neared, she considered just walking out in the open. After all, her father told her most everything, but something in the other voice told her to remain hidden, so she moved from trunk to trunk until she could pick out their words.
“…my suspicions,” her father said.
Tamamo peered around the trunk. Her father spoke with a man dressed in gray robes with several strings of rosary beads dangling from his neck. He stood with the air of a soldier, back straight with broad shoulders, a contrast to the hunched-back, emaciated monks Tamamo usually saw. If Tamamo had a tail at the moment, the fur would have stood on end from the threat the man exuded. He didn’t make any threatening gestures toward her father. In fact, he listened with a pleasant, serious expression, nodding occasionally and offering a few soft words in response. But the fine hairs on her arms stood on end at the sound of his voice. Something about the man, the way he stood or spoke, Tamamo didn’t know which, put her on edge.
She forced herself to creep closer.
“I will be ready when you send for me,” the monk said.
“It won’t be long. We have to do this right.”
The monk smiled, crinkling his eyes. “We always have to be cautious in these matters. A mistake can cause a curse that lasts one-thousand years. Kannon will be with us. If it pleases you, I must tend to another matter.”
Her father pressed his hands together and bowed low toward the monk. Tamamo drew a sharp breath. She hadn’t seen her father perform such a subservient gesture. He only had to bow to the emperor and a few other court members ranked above him. Even then, he never bowed so low. And to a monk no less! Tamamo stopped herself from flying around the trunk and telling him to straighten, that no monk deserved such a gesture of honor. The monk returned the bow and strode away. Her father lingered a moment, looking around the garden with a sad and excited expression fighting on his face. Finally, he shook his head and started toward home. Tamamo sagged against the pine tree she hid behind. She reached under her sleeves and smoothed the fine hairs on her forearm.
“Father must be wanting the monk to pray for the emperor and for me,” she whispered to herself. “He knows everything that works against me, after all. I will ask him.”
Feeling better—her father always knew what was best—she started toward her home. She took her time, not only to calm herself, but to also give her father a chance to return home first and attend the business that inevitably awaited him. She walked a short distance along the main path when she caught the familiar scent of leather and sweat on the wind that blew from the direction of her home. She sighed. Father would have to wait.
Kotaro sat on the porch when she arrived. He lacked his spear, but he wore the light leather armor he always wore. The sun had darkened his skin to the point where Tamamo couldn’t tell where his arm braces ended and his arms began. He had long ago lost his hair. Tamamo had known him since her father first brought her home from the forest.
Kotaro stood. “Out playing at poetry again?”
“Badly.”
“Poetry is another way to fight. You need to train more,” he said.
“Is Father home? I needed to speak with him.”
“If he was, you think I’d be sitting here in the heat waiting for you? You haven’t forgotten today is your lesson.”
Tamamo shook her head. She didn’t want to go and sweat in another weapons practice, but she also couldn’t tell Kotaro no. He would drum her and drag her to a lesson made harder as punishment. Her questions for her father would have to wait until tonight. She swallowed at the thought of Mina and Yuko’s plan.
Kotaro studied her, but for as long as Tamamo had known him, he studied everyone around him. “Come along, little fox.” Kotaro stood. “It seems you need to clear your mind.”
“I suppose I do,” she said.
Tamamo followed Kotaro out of the quarter and toward the wall that divided the palace from the rest of the area. Unlike the other walls of the palace, a plain waited on the other side of the wall. On the three other sides, the city had grown around the palace, but a decree kept the north wall free of development. Although the palace complex festooned with gardens, the aristocracy kept the northern area open for their forays into wilderness, as they called it. Some of the nobles hunted the land. Most liked to hold picnics during the spring and autumn. The forests were too cultivated for Tamamo’s taste. She remembered running through wilderness as a kit, a wild and tangled place, but even a burnished forest allowed her space she often craved. Throughout yesterday and last night, she had followed Junnin’s hunting party through the manicured forest and plains. It had felt good to be out, but she already itched to be away from the palace. After a while, the close confines of the palace made her twitch with pent-up energy. Father had started her lessons with Kotaro when he caught her running through the gardens in her fox form soon after he brought her home.
Kotaro remained silent as he led her through the narrow gate. The guards bowed as they passed. The meadow outside the gate stretched for several miles until it reached the forest. At least this time Kotaro didn’t grumble about how the wall was indefensible and how the grassland needed fortifications to disperse an attacking army. She supposed he was right. If an army wanted to attack the palace, the northern wall would be the easiest and most direct route. Unlike the other walls, the northern wall was mostly ornamental and lacked the catwalks and towers of the walls overlooking the city. She supposed it was because it stood so close to the main palace grounds. Aesthetics mattered. Tamamo found herself walking ahead of her teacher several times as the urge to run took hold of her. She chided herself and dropped back to the proper distance behind Kotaro only to find herself surging ahead again moments later. Kotaro didn’t comment. He kept his steady pace.
They soon passed under the manicured trees. The lower branches had been cut back to allow the court officials to ride through the forest without risk. Gardeners kept the undergrowth shorn. Brambles were removed by their roots. Despite the artificial nature of the forest, Tamamo felt her worries ease as they walked. She found it hard to keep her mind on the court problems, even the ones with Yuko and Mina, when she visited Kotaro and the forest.
Kotaro’s home sat in a clearing. The house had once been a teahouse that had belonged to some noble before Tamamo’s father had bought and expanded it. The old warrior kept it in good repair, free of moss, and clean. The air smelled of pines, and the scent of wood polish wafted from the house. Tamamo entered and went to the room Kotaro had given to her. There she changed into a set of leather similar to her teacher’s and trousers similar to what farmers would wear when working in the fields. She put her long hair into a bun to keep it out of her way. She smirked as she considered how Mina and Yuko would react if they ever saw her. She would dare them to say something so she had reason to trounce them. When she emerged, Kotaro waited with two spears. Instead of the usual wooden practice spears they used, these had blunted metal heads.
He tossed one at her. She caught it. “It’s lighter than I expected,” she said.
“This is a real spear weight. You’ve built up enough strength using the heavier practice staves.” He entered his fighting stance, knees bent and feet set a shoulder apart. “You need to get used to the way a real spear is balanced.”
She twirled the spear, feeling the momentum of the spear’s spin. Then she dropped into her stance. Her body knew the stance well. “I still want to learn how to use a sword.”
He attacked, thrusting his spear at her in quick succession. She countered with her own, deflecting and trying to reach him without leaving herself open. He swept his spear at her feet, making her dance back as he taught her—remaining stable and balanced while not exposing the width of her body. The sidelong fighting stance Kotaro taught her kept her a smaller target.
“A sword is not good for a woman,” he said.
He always gave her the same line, but Tamamo was determined to have him teach her. A sword commanded power and respect. Spears were for commoners. She clenched her jaw and attacked, aiming a feint at his head. Kotaro moved his spear to block her attack. Using her speed, Tamamo lunged forward, well within the reach of his weapon. Then she whirled on her heel, driving the butt of her spear into his midsection with enough force to make him grunt. The muscles in his cheek flexed, and he brought his spear down, intending to strike her shoulder. She danced to the side and used her weapon to direct his spear into the dirt. She thrust the blunted tip toward his throat, stopping just short of his skin. Win twelve. She had been scoring more strikes against him in recent months, and she won their boughs more often. Kotaro was older than her father and seemed to be slowing down, but she refused to say that. She wasn’t arrogant enough to think she was getting good at fighting. Rather, each win made her worry about Kotaro’s health. He straightened with effort.
“I think I am fast enough for a sword,” she said.
He frowned at her for a long moment. Without a word, he walked toward the rack where he kept his wooden training weapons and threw her a training sword. Although she fumbled with her spear, she managed to catch it midway up its blade.
“If that was a real blade, you wouldn’t have any fingers left,” Kotaro said.
Tamamo glared at him and threw her spear to the side. It stuck in the leaf-strewn dirt a good distance away. She held the wooden sword ahead of her with both hands as she had seen Kotaro and her father do during their practices.
“Feet farther apart,” Kotaro said. “A sword isn’t much more than a short spear with a longer edge.” He took his stance and leveled his spear. “Try to get past my guard.”
She raised her arms, knowing it left her open to attack but wanting to bait him in. Kotaro merely waited, his blunted spear head training on her as she moved to the side. Every way she moved, he followed, keeping well out of her range. She mustered her speed and rushed him. She struck his spear, trying to move it aside and create an opening. Kotaro snatched the spear back and thrust at her, forcing her to dance to the side.
She tried to rush him again, but he forced her to jump backward to avoid getting hit in her stomach.
“You are too tentative. Your sword speaks of fear,” he said.
“I’m not afraid. You haven’t shown me how to use a sword yet.”
“The ideas are the same. I’ve already shown you everything you need to know. I am trying to prove a point.”
Tamamo tightened her grip on the practice sword’s handle. “The sword is too different. Please teach me.”
“If you fight with a weapon not meant for you, you will die. Swords have a place, but they are not the best weapon for everyone.” Kotaro studied her then sighed. “You are forgetting the most important lesson I taught you.” He threw his spear a few yards away, where it stuck into the ground. He spread his empty hands. “Come at me now.”
“What lesson am I forgetting? And fight you unarmed?”
He smiled. “You know me better than that.”
Tamamo knew he had some trick he was trying to teach her. The only way to learn with Kotaro was to do, so she growled and rushed him. This time she held her sword at shoulder height, the tip of the wooden sword pointed at him to thrust as she had seen her father do. Her teacher slid around her attack and grasped her wrists. In a motion, he used her momentum to throw her to the ground. She rolled as Kotaro had taught her and stood up immediately and attacked again. He slipped inside her downward cut and punched her hard in the midsection while barring her arm with his other hand. She again hit the ground.
Tamamo breathed hard. Locks of her hair escaped her bun. She stood up with an arm wrapped around her stomach.
Kotaro crossed his arms. “You are still forgetting my first lesson.”
She charged him. He sighed ,and he whirled behind her, grasping her wrists and wrenching until she dropped the sword and stood transfixed with pain. He pushed her away.
“You are trying to match my strength, girl. You can’t. You have to rely on your speed. Why did I teach you the spear?” He tapped his head. “Think.”
She rubbed her wrists. “Because I am not as strong as a man.” She made a sour face around the words.
“No. Because you have other advantages. A warrior uses what the gods grant them. Why did I teach you how to use a knife?”
“Because when close, men don’t suspect a woman.”
“Why did I teach you how to use your fangs?”
Tamamo swallowed. “Because I alone have that advantage.”
“A sword is a man’s weapon. A fool’s weapon, really.” Kotaro picked up the wooden sword. “That’s why you see me using a spear and only training with a sword. A man with just a long wooden stick has an advantage over a man with a sword. A woman with a spear has an even greater advantage.” He held the training sword out to her. “Men underestimate her. I will train you in the basics of the sword, so you know how to fight against it, not so you can use it yourself.”
Tamamo ached by the time the sun began its descent. She was used to Kotaro’s training, but the sword practice required her to use her muscles in new ways. But by the end of the session, she understood why Kotaro didn’t want to teach her how to use a sword as her weapon. She even managed to best him several times when she used her spear against his sword.
“That’s enough,” her teacher finally said. “It’s time to get you home.”
Tamamo nodded, sweat and clothes sticking to her. She retrieved her court clothes from her room and went to the bath house in the rear to wash. The spring water refreshed her, but she would have several bruises by morning. She never left Kotaro’s training without bruises, but they were never where anyone would see. She frowned. She couldn’t have Junnin see them, and she had no intention of stopping her training after she married, proper or not. Junnin had too many enemies for her not to train. About now, Junnin would be having dinner. Likely with Yuko or Mina present. At least one of the Fujiwara cousins were always with him. Tamamo wished she could be there instead of them, but she didn’t see them training to defend Junnin.
She finished dressing and hurried out. Kotaro didn’t say anything as he escorted her back across the meadow. A different set of guards bowed to them as they entered. Her teacher walked with her to her front door.
“Watch yourself, Tamamo.” He gazed around the gardens. “A battle is coming.”
“A battle?”
“Nature senses the intentions of men. And this air is that before a fight.”
Instinctively, she sniffed the air and strained her ears. The palace was quieter than normal, and she sensed a tension in the air that she hadn’t noticed. On the air she caught the scent of food coming from her house, but under it floated an acrid scent, as faint an aroma as the freshness of dew. The fact Kotaro could sense what she smelled told her she still had a lot to learn. “I-I will be careful.” She bowed to him and thanked him for her lessons.
After Kotaro left, she went inside. The scent of dinner wafted from the kitchen, making her stomach grumble. She ignored it and headed toward her father’s study. Her feet padded against the fresh rice-straw flooring. She stopped in front of the study’s door to gather her words. Light escaped from the crack in the door. She took a deep breath and opened it.
Her father sat at his desk, writing. A moth fluttered around his lamp. Its flight mimicked the flow of his brush against the paper. Across from the desk stood a shrine dedicated to her father’s wife. She had died long before her father had found Tamamo, and her father rarely spoke of her. But every night he offered incense to her. The aroma filled the room, making Tamamo’s nose itch with its intensity.
“Father, I’m worried about Mina and Yuko.”
He finished his character and set the brush down and turned toward her. “Why should you be worried about those two?”
“One of them plans on stealing into Jun—the emperor’s room tonight. So, they can be found in the morning.”
He smiled. “They’ve been talking about doing that for months.”
“I think they are serious. They see how close the Emperor and I are. They confronted me today.”
His brow drew down. “So, the Fujiwara are getting concerned. Those two wouldn’t push unless pushed themselves.” He covered a cough.
Tamamo smoothed her clothes. “I believe they will do it once they decide who will go.”
“You don’t have to worry about it tonight. The emperor is going to spend the night meeting with his generals. The Taira have marched an army to the border.” He tapped his desk. “But it means we will have to move up our plans to have you found one morning.”
Tamamo blushed. “But what about… my sleep problem?”
“You don’t have to worry. I will take care of that.” His face appeared wan in the lamp’s light. “I know you wanted to tell him before, but we can’t wait for that.”
Tamamo’s shoulders sagged as a feeling of shame welled up. Her father’s voice held no accusations, but her lack of courage troubled her. Why was she hesitating? Junnin would accept her. Only she wasn’t sure of that. And if anyone else in the palace discovered she was a fox, she knew it would come back to Junnin. People would believe she had bewitched him—instead of the other way around—and perhaps even use it as a reason to dispose of the emperor. Tamamo wasn’t naive enough to believe no one plotted against Junnin. She didn’t want to be the reason such plots would succeed.
She needed to train harder. Not just with Kotaro, but she needed to train as a fox, so she wouldn’t lose her concentration while she slept. Then she could always be a human. After all, she barely had to concentrate on her current form. Perhaps that was why Father had spoken with that monk? Maybe the monk had learned the secret to concentrating while sleeping.
Her father continued, “The Taira’s move will make the Fujiwara family want to close their grip on the emperor. He might be distantly related to them, but he is of the imperial family first.” A flash of pain crossed his face, and he clutched his chest.
“Father?”
He straightened and waved her off. “It’s nothing.” His thin throat worked. Tamamo didn’t like how pale he looked, but he refused to see a doctor. “Although events move faster than I like, we can turn this to our family’s advantage.”
“On my way home, I saw you speaking with a monk in the garden. Who—”
Her father flicked his gaze at her and back down to the page he had written. “I asked the monk to pray for the emperor and for you. It never hurts to have the help of the gods.”
What she had overheard hadn’t seemed like a prayer request to Tamamo.
Her father watched her face, and his eyebrows drew down. She recognized that look. It meant for her to listen and do instead of question.
“You should go to bed. Tomorrow night, you won’t get much sleep,” he said. “Tomorrow, you will become empress.”
Tamamo’s face heated. “Yes, Father.” She bowed to him and padded to her room.
Yuse waited for her with a cup of dokudami tea. The strong odor of the tea made Tamamo’s nose wrinkle. Yuse only made her drink it in the rare times Tamamo had been sick. Tamamo gave her servant a questioning look.
“We can’t have you getting sick so close to the day!”
“Father told you?”
“No, but I know how everyone works in the court. You don’t live to be as old as me without knowing a few things.” Her smile faded with her voice. “Unfortunately, what I knew wasn’t enough to protect the former empress.”
Tamamo resisted the urge to tell the woman about whispering such thoughts aloud, but Tamamo preferred to keep her abilities quiet so not to raise questions, even from Yuse.
She thanked Yuse and gulped the tea to avoid its vaguely fishy flavor. She liked fish, just not as a tea flavor. Yuse left with the cup, and Tamamo stripped to sleep. She covered a yawn with her hand, wondering if Kotaro had worked with her father to make her too tired to fret. The old man had done that before when the young Tamamo’s fox instincts were too strong. She settled on her futon and pulled a coverlet over her. The thought of sleeping near Junnin without a stitch made her heart thrum. She wanted him to see her true form, but she also feared his reaction. In her nightmares, she imagined him waking up to see her in her fox form and calling for the guards. In her worst dream, he tried to kill her. She shivered at the memory of that dream. She promised herself that he wouldn’t wake before she did. A few months ago, she had tried to tell him, to show him her true self, but the nightmares held her back.
She growled and flipped to her side. “Enough thinking. Sleep.”
She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, failing to relax enough for sleep. Her mind kept skipping to the monk and back to Junnin and then to her nightmares. With each hop, she felt her self-confidence weaken. She knew she had her entire life to tell him, as long as she made certain she awoke before he did or before anyone else came into the room. She flipped to her other side. The sounds of night insects and birds drifted through her window. A cool breeze, fresh with the aroma of the gardens, danced above her. She wanted to bark with frustration. So much for Kotaro exhausting her.
More moments passed. “Forget it,” she muttered. She sat up and walked to the window, holding the coverlet around herself. Moonlight washed white over her skin. She listened to the hushed voices of the guards and servants assigned to the night duties. The palace never slept. Throughout the night, nobles slipped into their lover’s rooms and out again. Business dealings also met in the darkness. As did meetings with generals. Despite the late hour, Tamamo knew Junnin would still be with his generals.
She wanted to see him.
“I won’t be able to sleep anyway.” She released the coverlet and her human form. Before the coverlet dropped to the floor, red fur had replaced her white skin. Paws replaced her hands. Tamamo swished her tail and stretched against the wall, relishing the way her muscles moved. She considered her human form who she was, but her fox body moved in ways that just felt good.
She leaped out of her window. As soon as her paws hit the ground, she jumped to her home’s low roof and dashed along the tiles. The breeze ran its fingers through her fur as she leaped from roof to roof. The ubiquitous clay roof tiles clinked as she darted. Several times she had to stop to wait for the palace guards to pass before jumping to the next building. The guards didn’t look toward the roof, but Kotaro had taught her not to take chances. The sound of the tiles or, as her luck would have it, a loose one falling to shatter on the street, would alert the guards. She smiled, a curve of her jaws. Kotaro wouldn’t be pleased with her outing. The old man told her not to take undo risks in her fox shape. A warrior never revealed their best secret until it the secret would win a battle. She trotted on.
Tamamo didn’t remember the last time she had seen so many guards at night. She had even seen a few in the watchtowers. Those required her to find a way back down to the street to avoid being seen. What was normally a direct route had taken far too long for her to traverse. She kept her impatience in check and worked toward the palace. Finally, she leaped to the main palace’s roof and slowed. Did the news of the Taira army make the generals nervous enough to have so many guardsmen patrolling? She wasn’t certain which room Junnin would hold the meeting, so she tested the air for his scent as she sneaked. She found his sandalwood scent, his unique personal smell, coming from the teahouse hidden among the old cryptomeria garden. The location made sense. It would be hard for a person to approach without being seen or heard.
Fortunately, she wasn’t a person.
The moonlight glittered on her fur as she jumped from the roof and down the branches of the nearest cryptomeria. She preferred a moonless night for sneaking, and the clouds had refused to help her so far. She hadn’t seen or smelled any additional watchmen in the garden, just the usual soldiers standing at the entrances and walking the perimeter.
To ease her nerves, she mentally composed a poem as she worked her way through the garden.
Softly moon-lit
the love-starved fox stalks
her prey.
She winced at the poem. Mina or Yuko would have composed one much like it. Luckily, she reached the teahouse before she could subject herself to another bad poem. The teahouse stood as a humble wooden box amid the great trees. It looked drab against the rest of the palace, but Father had told her the tea ceremony taught humility. She had thought the point of tea was to drink it. A faint light escaped from the teahouse’s open shutters. She crouched low to the ground as she approached. The voices of Junnin’s three generals drifted to her.
“I say a direct attack and wash them away,” General Todashi’s voice said.
“The Taira have more experience than our men,” Kote, Todashi’s rival, sounded exasperated. “Are you that determined to send the unbloodied to dying ground?”
“It’s their duty and honor to die for the emperor, ” Todashi said. “Besides, we can send the Minamoto first.”
Kote made a throaty noise. “I rather like that idea. They have been growing too strong lately. With Genmo’s health failing, we risk losing our grip on them.”
Tamamo swallowed. She didn’t like admitting that her father’s health had declined.
“Genmo remains loyal, but the factions inside the Minamoto may prove a problem,” said General Mushi. His voice resonated deep with his years. “But we also risk giving them too much glory if we send them first. It is better we remind them the Fujiwara soldiers protect the emperor. However, it would be foolish to rush the attack. The Taira are too entrenched. As I’ve suggested before, we should draw them out by sweeping around with a small force and attacking their farmland.”
“And divide our forces?” Todashi asked.
“The Minamoto are well suited to pirating like that,” Kote said. “But we need to consider what to do with them, so in the future, we don’t have this problem. Loyal he may be. Genmo’s daughter should not marry His Eminence. It would embolden the Minamoto.”
Tamamo’s tail fluttered. Even the generals were against her marrying Junnin? She knew she represented her clan, but she was just a single woman. She didn’t command anyone. Her father never even told her the names of the men who visited him. She had no part in the affairs of the Minamoto family.
“Since when should a general be concerned about the things of women?” Todashi asked.
“I’m not.” Checked anger lowered Kote’s voice. “The Minamoto clan grows in strength. We need to walk wisely in this, use them well against the Taira and somehow secure the clan to us once Genmo is gone. Without tying them to the emperor.”
Tamamo risked a look through the window. The generals gestured at each other as they argued. Junnin sat apart from them as etiquette dictated. He kept his face smooth, but Tamamo saw the small lines around his eyes.
She also saw his anger at Kote’s bold statement in the way his lips pressed tight and the way he tapped the floor with his fingers.
“Her marriage would bind the Minamoto to us,” Todashi said. “It would improve the balance. As you say, they are small, and as the honored clan, we could see to it that they remain small.”
“Remain focused on what is before us, gentlemen,” Mushi said. He ran a hand over his gray hair. “Leave the emperor to handle the court matters. Ours is of war.”
The younger men bowed their heads to him.
“His Sovereign wants us to dislodge them and unify our country,” Todashi said. “It is our divine duty. We need to march.”
“Caution is also needed,” Mushi said.
“A single strike even with our unbloodied men will do the deed,” Todashi glanced at Kote. “Cowardice has no place in war.”
“Cowardice has nothing to do with caution.” Mushi’s creased face remained calm. “Our divine duty is to win. Dead men can’t fight. Enough of this useless debate. We need to create our plan, gentlemen.”
Throughout the discussion, Tamamo noticed none of the generals looked in Junnin’s direction.
“We outnumber them,” Kote said. “And we are raising more troops. Why don’t we each see to his own plan? General Todashi can use his direct attack to disrupt and draw the enemy out of the pass. While you, General Mushi, disrupt their supplies. I will organize the trap for General Todashi.”
“You just want the honor of striking the final blow,” General Todashi said.
Mushi stroked his chin. “Although it risks weakening our forces too much, the plan has merit. We will want the Minamoto involved, but not where they can gain any honor. Let’s have them guard the emperor.”
Kote frowned. “That will leave them at our backs.”
Todashi smirked. “A wonderful way to insult them while giving them enough honor they wouldn’t dare to strike.”
Mushi nodded. “I will have Genmo send to them. In order to handle all four of our armies, the Taira will have to divide their own forces. I can stay ahead of them, forcing them to grow thinner while you, Todashi, can strike at their head.”
“You mean their false empress?”
Junnin shifted, and another brief mix of emotion cracked his calm facade. Tamamo didn’t know what relationship he had with his elder half-sister before the Fujiwara family pushed her out of the palace. He also had a younger half-brother, Lord Ohoshi, who was of the Fujiwara family, but Tamamo rarely saw him around the palace.
Mushi smiled. “Kill her, and their claims will fall apart.”
Todashi watched Kote. “I am not opposed to this arrangement if it means a swift victory for His Eminence.”
Kote nodded. “We each need to work out his own plans and have an honored part to play. It is best to work in isolation.”
Tamamo thought Kote would have argued to take the direct attack himself.
Todashi’s eyes narrowed. He apparently wondered the same thing. “I do not like what you are implying.”
Even the elder Mushi frowned.
Kote waved at the air. “We all know the palace has Taira ears and eyes hidden among us. Just as we have among them. I only urge caution.” He glanced at Mushi.
“Indeed. His Eminence will need to announce our endeavor tomorrow,” Mushi said. “As is proper for such a venture.”
Tamamo caught the scent and sound of soldiers approaching from behind her. She dropped down to all fours and backed into the shadows of the teahouse. Inside, the generals expressed their agreement. Didn’t they ever think once to refer to the emperor they claimed to serve?
A pair of warriors appeared and marched past. Tamamo sank deeper into the shadows. Although the warriors gazed around them, they lacked the eyesight of Tamamo. By the time the guards had passed, the teahouse door had slid open, and the generals strolled outside, still arguing about what troops will be issued to whom. They moved toward the heavy door that connected the garden to the palace. Tamamo slipped out of the shadows and around the teahouse to wait.
Junnin emerged sometime later. Under his heavy and ornate clothing, his shoulders sagged, yet the muscle in his jaw tightened and released several times. He stood on the porch for a long moment, his head tilted toward the night sky. His fists trembled. Tamamo expected him to scream or punch the old teahouse. Instead, his hand loosened, and he let out a long breath. In the moonlight, a tear glistened as it ran down his cheek. He whispered so low that even Tamamo could barely hear him:
“’The fisherfolk live
Within the bay, rowing boats
Without oars.
They are all at sea—how cruel the world
Where I am sunk in sadness.’”
Tamamo took a step toward him before she realized it. She froze, half-exposed around the corner of the teahouse as Junnin gazed at the starry sky. The breeze caught her fur and his long hair. The fresh aroma of the cryptomeria danced on that breeze. The sounds of the night insects and birds seemed to echo Junnin’s poem.
He sighed and wiped his cheeks, shattering the moment. Tamamo felt tears slip from her own eyes as she silently shared in his moment of frustration and pain and anger. With a final look at the moon, he stepped to the mossy ground and headed toward the palace, not noticing Tamamo despite how close she stood. She resisted the urge to follow. She watched his back until he passed through the guarded gate. Even after he left, she remained where she hid until his scent faded on the night’s wind. She padded the opposite way through the garden, finding a tree to leap up and onto the roof. Her tail slumped as she thought about how Junnin’s feelings had been ignored by the men sworn to serve him. Men bold enough to say in front of him that he and Tamamo shouldn’t marry. She bared her teeth.
She took her time sneaking along the roof tiles. She had little trouble avoiding the guards now that she knew their patrol routes. Halfway home, she caught the scent of the palace’s kitchen, making her stomach grumble. She itched to sink her teeth into something. If she couldn’t sink them into Kote’s throat, a pastry would have to do. She stopped, the tiles playing soft notes under her feet. A cloud passed over the moon.
“Why not?” she asked herself.
She bounded down to the roof right above the kitchen. After pausing to make sure she didn’t hear or smell any guards, she leaped to the ground. The kitchen door and windows opened to the night to free the heat as the workers busied themselves preparing for the morning’s meal demands. A few workers carried trays of food bound for the courtiers and warriors who worked at night. The kitchen bustled with too many people for Tamamo to slip inside. This section of the palace never seemed to sleep.
A man carrying a large bamboo tray suddenly stepped out of the open door right in front of her. Tamamo skittered away, and fortunately, the man hadn’t seen her. He half ran toward the cooling rack and dropped the tray in place. Then, he hurried back inside, sweat beading his brow. Tamamo swallowed and breathed to steady herself.
“I need to be more careful,” she muttered.
Leaving the kitchen, she stalked toward the cooling rack. On the tray rested mochi shaped into leaves, animals, and other decorative shapes. She snatched one, shaped like a rabbit, and dashed toward home, forgoing the rooftops in favor of the speed of the streets. With the moon hidden behind the clouds, she had no problem returning home with her prize. She leaped through her room’s window. She dropped the mochi onto a wooden plate and cleaned her paws the best she could in her wash basin. She could’ve returned to her human form to make it easier, but she wanted to tear into that rabbit-shaped dessert with her fox teeth. Finished washing, she pounced on the plate, pinned the mochi-rabbit between her paws, and tore its head off, imagining it was Kote’s head as she did. The rest of the mochi didn’t last long after. Feeling a little better, she washed her now-sticky paws again and settled onto her bed. She used her teeth to pull the coverlet over herself. She couldn’t do anything for Junnin that night, but tomorrow and for evermore, she could. She would make certain he would gaze at the moon with a smile. She would make certain his generals didn’t ignore him again.
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