Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101427 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 507(@200wpm)___ 406(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
What do you want, brother?
The Claws had sat down too. Beside him, they shifted in their seats, shoulders squared, boots planted wide, and their hands resting just a little too close to the hilts of their blades. None of them spoke, but the air around them was heavy with the weight of unsaid words.
Whatever this is about. . .it will be stupid.
“I’ll deal with the Claws, Yoichi. You handle everyone else.” I rolled my eyes. “Also, tell the guards on the outer gates to double the watch until dawn. Then rotate them out for rest.”
Yoichi gave a short nod. “Got it.”
“The outer perimeter of the island stays tight. Put a curfew up for all families to keep the guards night shift easier. Also, I don’t want anyone inside this house past midnight.”
“No problem.”
“At first light, call the captains. We convene at nine.” I yawned. “By tomorrow, I want updated maps of every port and all Fox-controlled territories on my desk.”
“Got it. See you tomorrow.” Yoichi gave another short nod and began gathering the Fangs and Scales to the other side of the room.
I remained there and put my view back to my desk.
In no time, Hiro had left the chair and headed my way.
The Claws followed him.
When they got to me, I leaned my head to the side. “What’s wrong?”
“Your Tiger left.”
“I saw.”
“I had hoped to speak with her.”
I quirked my eyebrows. “Why?”
“The Claws and I still have our grievances to address.”
My tone was sharper than it needed to be. “She’s not cooking for you all, so drop it.”
“Now that she is the Dragon’s Heart, she must cook for us.”
“What the hell would give you that idea?”
Hiro tilted his head like I was the idiot here. As he delivered his next words, his lollipop moved from one corner of his mouth. “The Dragon’s Heart keeps the body alive.”
I stared at him. “And?”
“We are the Claws that hold your blades. We strike in your name. If the Heart beats for you, it beats for us too. Without her attention, the body weakens and weak Claws drop weapons.”
“Is that some sort of threat to protest? If you do not get fucking cornbread, you will not fight?”
“If she is the Heart, then it is her duty to keep us strong through food.”
“How long did it take you to come up with that argument?”
Hiro shrugged. “A few minutes.”
The war room hummed around us—low voices breaking apart into hallways, boots crossing stone, the hush of doors as Yoichi shepherded my men to rest.
Hiro spoke, “I have another line too. This took me longer to come up with.”
“Oh.” I held out my hands. “Please tell me. It would bring me joy.”
“Through food,” Hiro pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and pointed it at me. “A Heart feeds the body.”
“No. The Heart’s job is to pump blood, not stand in a kitchen.”
“Blood and food are the same in spirit, Brother. Both give life. If the Heart cooks for the body, it binds us together. Brings warmth to cold steel—”
“My chef has won awards. I can have him cook anything for you and have anything you all may desire flown to this island. We could sprinkle fucking edible gold on everything and make sure your chopsticks are decorated with diamonds.”
Hiro and the Claws didn’t stare at me, they glared.
Then, Hiro placed the lollipop back in his mouth. “You think this is trivial?”
“I don’t think this is trivial. I think this is fucking bullshit and the most unimportant thing I have had to hear today—”
“You’ve never fought on an empty stomach with no warmth to return to. You’ve been the Dragon for too long, and before that you were Kenji. And Kenji was well-fed by others, served by others too. . .all his life. . .”
I opened my mouth to cut him down—to tell him I would not barter my Heart like she was a kitchen charm—and then I caught the look under his lashes and the deeper meaning in those words.
Damn it.
I let out a long breath and put my view back on the blood trail.
The cleaning staff had arrived and was now working on those stains that had thickened at the edges and turned from jeweled brightness to dark lacquer.
They scattered salt along the edges of the stain. Another used a bamboo ladle dipped it in the bucket and then tipped it. Water spilled from the ladle and traced the marble vein by vein.
Two other maids blotted with folded cotton pads, changing the cloths from white to rose. Another followed with a paste of rice bran and vinegar, working it into the stone with a horsehair brush so gentle it looked like she was coaxing a secret out of it. The paste pulled the red up in slow breaths.
The soundscape cooled me—whisk, pour, press; wring, fold, replace.