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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“But I don’t want to!”

Ryukage wanted to shake the boy in front of him. Though this was the same child he’d seen in his conjurings, Ryuichi was not at all what he had expected.

Honestly, his son was rather...

Whiny. Petulant. Frankly, annoying.

“What is wrong with you?”

The boy blinked. “Nothing. I just don’t want to practice. I don’t like fighting.”

Ryukage forced the katana into his hand. “You have to.”

“But why?”

“Everything in life is a fight!”

“But why?” Ryuichi repeated.

So help him... if his son asked why one more time, he was going to throttle him. “It just is.”

“But—”

“Don’t!” he roared. “Don’t you dare!”

Ryuichi paled at the ferocity of his shout, as did all of Ryukage’s men. A part of him felt guilty, but the rest of him didn’t care. He was too aggravated. Too?—

The boy began to cry.

Seriously? Tears? What did anyone do with tears? Not even Haruka had cried on him.

Lost and confused, he glared at Haruki. “Did I break him?”

She shrugged.

Ryukage shoved the boy in her direction. “Fix it.”

Haruki gave him a stunned gape. “I don’t know how. I’ve never had a child. Never really been around them.”

Kagi snorted. “She usually stews them up and eats them, my lord.”

Now he glared at Kagi too. “Did I say you could speak?”

His minion shrank back.

Well, at least that one knew its place. If only he could instill that kind of fear in his whiny progeny.

Sadly, Ryuichi had no sense of fear of him. Or self-preservation.

“What is wrong with you now ?” he snapped.

“Don’t yell at me.” He sniveled and wiped his snotty nose with the back of his hand. Disgusting.

For this, he’d waited years and years? Had razed the countryside, destroyed entire villages, and disintegrated servants? Thank the gods Haruka was dead. He shuddered at the thought of her seeing what she’d birthed. Too bad he was forced to endure it.

Obviously, the gods hated him.

He turned on Haruko with a huff. “Are you sure he’s mine?”

Haruki held her hands up in surrender. “Perhaps you should ask Masaru.”

Masaru...

Kitsune.

Tricky little snipe. Of course. How could he have been so stupid as to ever trust one of their ilk?

His breathing turned ragged as he realized he’d been duped. Normally, he’d have never fallen for such. But Masaru held more powers than most. “Find me that demon and bring him to me.” His voice was dangerously low.

“Dead or alive?” she asked.

“Alive—but skinned, if necessary.” Actually, he’d prefer him skinned at the moment. “Move!”

Ryuichi poked his lip out to pout. “Don’t hurt my friend. I love Masaru.”

“Have no fear. I’m not going to hurt him.” He was going to kill him when he got his hands on the rodent.

“I will get out of here. If it’s the last thing I do.” He cut his gaze to his general. “Tatsu? Find my komusō. Rally them to fight. As soon as I have my real son , we will march on the world, and I will take my place as ruler. Understood?”

Stepping forward, Tatsu bowed and went to carry out his orders.

If only all his men were so competent and loyal. But why should he expect such loyalty from others? Only Tatsu cared what happened to him. Their bond was above all, he knew that.

Too bad he could never have such a bond with his son. But he feared that would never happen. Not after all this time they’d been apart, when others had drilled their lies into Ryuichi.

Tsukuyomi had promised Ryukage the world if he served him. Had told him that he’d never have to fear for his wife’s loyalty.

The god had lied. Tricked him.

For that alone, he was determined to get out of here and make sure that all of them paid—the kami and everyone who had a hand in putting him here. Taking his son. They had feared his powers before, but now they had cause to. Their mistake had been to imprison him.

Here, in the darkness, he’d only grown more powerful.

More resentful.

Angrier.

Learned more of the very things that had caused them to quake in terror whenever his name was whispered.

Now...

Ryukage and his shadow army were going to march into the heavens and take the kami all down. Put them in chains. And then he would take back what they’d stolen from him.

His honor. His family. His name.

Soon they would beg for a mercy that he would never show.