Heaven's Net Is Wide by Lian Hearn (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

that Shigeru was away. If he was not with her, neither was he with his wife, and his absence gave her a little space to regain control over her emotions. She behaved with discretion, visited her mother, the temples at Daishoin and Tokoji, where she always made generous donations, and various merchants from whom she ordered luxurious items: perfumes, teas, lacquerware, new robes for autumn and winter. She did not go to Haruna, but she often visited the garden near the volcano; she was more than a little impressed by what the old man’s charms had achieved. The hot weather did not agree with him; she arranged for medicines to be delivered to him, cooling teas and herbs to purify the blood, and instructed her gardeners to help him water his plants while she kept him company. One day she was returning through the garden to where she had left the palanquin; it was almost a year to the day since her first night with Shigeru, and she was recalling it with mixed feelings as she passed the hedge that bordered the rear garden of Haruna ’s house. She quickened her step, not wanting to be seen by anyone there, but as she went by the entrance, she heard running footsteps. Her former lover, Hayato, called out to her, “Akane! Akane!”

He burst through the gate; she had to stop or run into him. They gazed at each other for a moment. She was shocked by the changes she saw in him: his face was gaunt, the skin yellow-tinged, the eyes sunken and glittering.

“You have not been well?” she said, moved to sudden pity by his appearance.

“You know why. Akane, why did this happen to us? We loved each other.”

“No,” she said, and went to walk on, but he seized her by the arm.

“I cannot live without you. I am dying with love.”

“Don’t be a fool, Lord Hayato. No one dies for love!”

“Let’s run away together. We can leave the Three Countries, go north. Please, Akane. I beg you, come with me.”

“It’s impossible,” she said, trying to twist out of his grip. “Leave me alone or I’ll call for the guards.” She was alarmed, being with him when he was so distressed, fearing he might take her life and his own rather than live without her.

He looked down at his own hand in surprise, as if someone else had placed it around her wrist. When she had struggled, he had gripped her more tightly, hurting her. Now he let go suddenly. She rubbed the bruise.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. “I’m sorry. That’s the last thing I want to do. I want to touch you, as I did before. You must remember how good it was.”

She did not reply but turned at once and walked rapidly away. She thought she heard him speak her name, but she did not look back. The porters leaped to their feet when she approached, and the guard who always accompanied the palanquin helped her into it and picked up her sandals once she was inside. She left the oiled silk curtains down, though it was stifling inside and one bold mosquito was whining annoyingly around her neck. She was afraid Hayato was in the grip of an all-devouring jealousy, as if afflicted by a wasting disease. She had said “No one dies for love,” but she could see how he might die or kill himself, and then his angry ghost would haunt her. She was afraid, too, of what charms he might use against her. Now she had entered the dark world of magic herself, she was all the more aware of its power.

She went to the household altar and burned incense, lit candles, and prayed for a long time for protection against all the ills that might surround her. The night was heavy and dense; thunder rolled around the mountains, but it did not rain. She slept badly and rose late, had hardly finished dressing when Haruna arrived. Haruna was as elegantly dressed as always, but she could not disguise the fact that at some time that morning she had been weeping. Akane felt the clutch of fear that the premonition of bad news brings. She called for tea and exchanged pleasantries with Haruna, then sent the maids away, drawing close to the other woman so they sat knee to knee.

Haruna said quietly, “Hayato is dead.”

She had half expected this news, yet it left her reeling with shock and grief. You must remember how good it was-his last words came back to her. She did remember, she remembered everything good about him, and began to weep unrestrainedly for the pitifulness of his life and death and for the life that they might have had together.

“I saw him yesterday. I feared he would take his own life.”

“He did not kill himself. It would have been better if he had. Lord Masahiro had him killed. His retainers cut him down outside my place.”

“Masahiro?”

“Lord Shigeru’s uncle. The youngest brother. You know him, Akane.”

She knew of him, naturally, and had seen him on occasion-the last time was at her father’s entombment. His reputation throughout Hagi was not good, though few dared express their opinions openly. In a city that was not easily offended, he was considered lecherous, and, more gravely, people said he was a coward.

“Why? What had Hayato ever done to offend Masahiro? How could they have even crossed paths?”

Haruna moved uncomfortably and did not meet Akane’s gaze. “Lord Masahiro has been visiting us from time to time. He gives another name, of course, and we all pretend we don’t know him.”

“I had no idea,” Akane said. “What happened?”

“Hayato was quite drunk. He had been drinking since he saw you, I gather. I tried to get him to leave quietly, but when he finally went outside, he noticed Masahiro’s men in the street. He began to rail at them, to curse the Otori lords, in particular Lord Shigeru-Forgive me for telling you such a terrible