Shadows on the Moon (42 page)

I shook my head, pausing to lean on the rough trunk of a tree, shivering a little.

It didn’t matter. I would find my way, and I would find her again. No matter what, I would be all right. After everything I had faced this night, I knew that.

I was free.

And if my freedom was lonely, that was my own doing.

“Where are you going?”

The voice came from behind me. Slowly, disbelievingly, I turned.

He stood in the open, the silvery moonlight illuminating his face. I could see, just, that his eye was still a little bruised, and the scrapes on his cheek were scabs now, but the bandage was off his hand. He was wearing black — the first time I had ever seen him in such a dark shade — and his hair was drawn back severely, emphasizing the prominent bones of his cheeks and jaw. He almost blended into the shadows. Almost.

Otieno.

He reached out and jerked me off my feet, into his arms, and I wrapped mine around him with a sob. “Got you,” he whispered.

I ran my fingers over the beloved lines of his face, breathing in his cassia smell, trying to make myself believe that he was real. Cupping his face in my hands, I pressed my lips to his.

“Well,” he murmured into my mouth, “that was the sort of welcome I was hoping for, but not what I expected.”

“You are here. You really are here,” I muttered, still touching him, testing the planes of his shoulders and the rounded muscles of his upper arms.

“Where else would I be?” he asked, voice husky, as he gently set me down on my feet. “I said I would not leave you behind again.”

I was laughing and crying at the same time, hiding my face in his chest, hiding myself in the wonderful relief of feeling him against me again. “But after what I did to you — Oh, Otieno, what are you doing here? You were supposed to be on a ship by now. I cannot believe you stayed.”

“Akira-san told me the truth. That morning, after we —” He broke off, his face turning a ruddy shade that I could see even in the half-light as he cleared his throat. “She gave me your note and let me read it, then she told me that every word of it was a lie. She said you loved me, that turning from me had nearly killed you, and that you had spent the whole night crying fit to break your heart. She told me that you felt you had to avenge your family, even if it meant being miserable for the rest of your life.”

“Did you not hate me for choosing my revenge over you?”

“No, though I did think you were being . . . How to say it?” He paused, as if at a loss for words, then suddenly grabbed my shoulders and shook me, his next sentence emerging as a restrained roar.
“A half-witted, moronic, cake-brained fool!”

He stopped. Taking a deep breath, he carefully loosened his grip on my shoulders. “I was all for storming the city and dragging you out of your hiding place by your hair. But Akira said that she was sure you would not be able to go through with it, not if you saw me again. We agreed that I would wait until tonight and confront you at the end of the ball. My plan was to come as a guest, but I could not get an invitation. I think our friend Yorimoto blocked me. So instead I sneaked in wearing a cloak of illusions. I was about to try to get upstairs — and then you walked right past me and out the door! After I had spent half the night hiding behind one of those drooling lizards!”

I covered my mouth with my hand, unable to hold in a snort of laughter. “That is just what they look like!”

“But you looked beautiful,” he said, voice softening. “I saw you dance. I did not know you could dance like that, Pipit.”

I wanted to sink into his arms again, but this was not the place. “Otieno, we must go. If the prince catches me — us together — we will both be killed. I am the Shadow Bride now.”

“What are you talking about?” said Otieno, squeezing me tightly again. “You have already escaped them, even without my help. You are Akachi. You can hide from anyone.”

Except you,
I thought.

I clasped his hand, and we mingled our gifts, weaving a dense illusion that hid us even from each other.

“Keep hold of my hand.” His voice came out of the shadows. I could see the shape of him there, a darker shade of black in the night.

“Otieno,” I said abruptly, “what would you have done if you had come here but I did not change my mind and agree to go with you?”

“Gagged you, thrown you over my shoulder, and taken you anyway,” he said promptly. “I have some ropes braided around my waist. Actually, I do not know whether to be relieved or disappointed that it is not necessary.”

And I did not know whether to laugh or hit him. He would not have needed the ropes; I was not strong enough to have rejected him a second time.

“I think we should hurry now,” Otieno said. His voice was casual, but when I reached up to touch his throat with my free hand, I felt his pulse galloping there. I flushed, imagining I could hear my own heart speeding up to match it. “Akira-san is waiting for us at the other end of the garden with my father, and they will both be worried.”

“Akira? Thank the Moon. Is she coming with us?” I asked, feeling a rush of relief.

“She slipped out to find me as soon as you were made Shadow Bride. She would not let you go alone. You are her family.”

“We are her family,” I whispered, tightening my grip on his fingers.

And together we disappeared into the darkness, swift and silent as shadows on the moon.

Shadows on the Moon
draws on my love and appreciation of Japanese and other Asian cultures. The story is set in a fantasy realm called the Moonlit Land, or Tsuki no Hikari no Kuni. Most of the details of this country are pure invention, and the book is not intended to represent a culturally or historically accurate picture of any country at any period in history.

Just when I thought I had figured out how to go about writing a book, this story came along. I blew two deadlines, one computer, and probably more brain cells than I’d like to admit while working on it. Sometimes I would stare at the screen and think, with complete certainty: this book will never be finished.

The fact that it was eventually finished is down to a diverse network of people whom I will now attempt to thank. My sincere gratitude goes to:

The Royal Literary Fund — in particular, Eileen Gunn — for their astonishing generosity, which allowed me to write and take care of my family without being crushed by debt and financial hardship.

The Society of Authors and the Great Britain Sasakawa Fund, for making me the recipient of the 2009 Sasakawa Prize, as a result of which I was able to conduct vital research and create a much more realistic and textured story than I could otherwise have afforded to do.

Dr. Susan Ang, who always knows just the right book to send at just the right moment, and Dr. Mie Hiramoto, who looked at my sketchy Japanese translations, laughed heartily (I suspect), and did them again properly.

The intensely intelligent and well-read Furtive Scribblers’ Club, who offered me such levels of support, inspiration, and advice on every bit of this book that it was like having my own team of part-time muses on hand. So many people helped me that it would literally be impossible to print everyone’s name here, but Pembe, Skippy, Sniffemout, Hobbitlass, Bookherder, PhoenixGirl, Bookbean, Miyu, Kehs, Diana, Holly, Tina, Rachel, and Barbara especially deserve my gratitude. Not to mention Ruby, my one-girl focus group. I love you guys (sniff).

My editor, Annalie Grainger, who, with tact, persistence, and insight, turned my bloated first draft into this book of which I am so proud. Special thanks also go to Gill Evans for her extraordinary support and kindness through a very difficult period. To my brand-new agent, Nancy Miles, for engulfing me in a sense of safety and well-being.

Finally, David and Elaine Marriott. My first and still favorite readers.