bring their son back," Ferro said, "but we had no knowledge of this. We do not condone it. We have abided by your edict, Principe-sama. If Carac cannot do the same, then he is no longer a part of this family. I renounce him and cast him out. He is yours to do as you see fit."
Carac stared at his parents, but they turned their backs. Brom and Janshai were gone. The Ishikawa family looked both anguished and smug.
Numbness spread through Carac, drying up his tears. No one believed him. His best friend had lied. Betrayed him. Janshai… he'd helped Janshai a thousand times, washing dishes and disposing of the trash, running out troublesome customers. He'd betrayed Carac too.
Even his own family would not listen to him.
He went without resistance as he was hauled to his feet by Hardegin and stood in front of the giudice.
"Gorvenal-giudice, I entrust you with his sentencing. He is guilty of murder and flagrantly disobeying a royal edict."
Gorvenal looked like he wished he was anywhere else in the world, but he drew himself up and stared sternly at Carac. His dark eyes seemed to explore every scrap of Carac, from his broken nose to the blood smeared down his shirt, and the wounded hand he held cradled against his chest.
He then looked to Hardegin. "With respect, Principe-sama, I do not like this sentencing without trial."
"I have already made that decision," Hardegin said. "Stop cowering and do your job."
Mouth flattening, Gorvenal gave a terse nod and said, "Cara-don, for the crimes of defying a royal edict and murder of intent, I sentence you to twenty years' incarceration on the Isola del tasso. May the Gods have mercy on your soul."
Gasps and shouts and protests filled the room, but Hardegin lifted a hand to silence them. "The sentence has been pronounced, and it is just. Ferro-donni, you will pay the mourning costs. You are both dismissed. Ishikawa-donni, please come with me." He motioned to a guardia standing at the fringes to take the body away.
Carac watched as Arata vanished through the door, gone forever now. Tears wanted out, but he still couldn't cry them.
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Hardegin asked.
Carac met his eyes and said quietly, "Everything I said tonight is true."
Looking disgusted and disappointed, Hardegin motioned to more guardie. "Take him away. Lock him up until a boat arrives that can carry him to Tasso. I hope while you are locked up, Cara-don, that you have the sense to mature and learn from your mistakes. There is no life for you left here in Verona, but you could rebuild somewhere else if you can learn to be a better, more honorable and noble man."
Carac said nothing, only went quietly as the guardie hauled him away.
But his mind burned with thoughts the way his blood burned for iron.
Thoughts of Arata, so loving and warm a short time ago, now stiff and cold. Murdered by a brigand for money that Carac would have handed over without protest.
Thoughts of his mother; his father; Brom; Janshai; Gorvenal; Hardegin; that murderous thief.
Thoughts of revenge.
Chapter One
"Peace? I hate the word as I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee."
― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Naoki called for another bottle of saké and drained the last sip from his cup. Around him, the bar was fairly quiet—but it usually was, just one of the reasons he favored it. If he were anywhere else in Verona, there'd be people clamoring to congratulate him or start a fight to save Selinah from him. Never mind he was the one who needed saving from her.
One of the barmaids brought his saké, offering an inviting smile as she set it on the table. Naoki smiled back but shook his head slightly. Even if he'd felt like tumbling in a back room, he was so drunk he'd only embarrass himself.
He poured a fresh cup and sipped. One of the other reasons he liked this place was they made their own saké—a pleasant hanjozo style that was easy to drink throughout a whole evening. Or afternoon and evening, as Naoki preferred.
Something else he'd never get away with in any other bar. This one, though, was located well outside the main parts of the city, on a tiny scrap of island that was more dump and crabs than viable land like the rest of the islands. The gondolas wouldn't even come out this far; the only way to it was a rickety bridge or a brisk swim—and only a