Page 22 of Caught in the Devil’s Hand

Shumei brushed her fingers through his hair and gave him an honest answer. “I don’t know.”

⁂

That night, Shumei lay awake. Her brother was curled up in front of her, one arm thrown out toward the dying fire. Her head rested on her bent left arm, and she rubbed small circles on Oka’s shoulder. He wasn’t sleeping peacefully, and she wasn’t sleeping at all.

Thinking maybe he was cold, she flipped her side of their blanket over him and tucked it tight around him. She didn’t especially need another layer, for her new dress was much warmer than her old one and was pretty much a blanket on its own. Aching, she stood to stretch and raised her arms above her head. The dress slid along her skin as it moved with her, and thoughts of Vallen came rushing forth. His voice, his hands pulling her closer, the way he sometimes looked at her…

She smoothed her dress down and watched the small fire, wondering why she wasn’t angrier when she thought of Vallen. Hadn’t he made her life ten times more difficult than it already was? Hadn’t he disrupted her already miserable existence? Hadn’t he berated her, manipulated her, and lied to her?

But not much had changed, truth be told. She had a new appointment every week, but it was one that didn’t involve getting paid a pittance for backbreaking labor. Instead, she would enjoy the pleasures of the flesh with someone who could make her thighs clench simply by licking his lips. The virginity she’d lost had never helped her before. She was as hated in her village as she had been before Vallen had entered her life.

She had berated him as much as he had berated her, and though he had used her own desires against her, he had never failed to give her exactly what he’d promised. The blackmail still sorely rankled her, but he hadn’t lied to her or broken his word. She was just too inexperienced at dealing with people like Vallen to come out the victor.

She recalled their conversation at the river as she stretched her back, arms straight behind her. He had told her he was willing to do anything to have her and her favors at his disposal, even take her on as what she assumed would be his mistress, though she wasn’t quite sure if that was the word. Was a mistress anything other than a “kept woman”?

She frowned as she relaxed, rolling her shoulders. She would not be his mistress, then. Although, looking at the dress she wore, she wondered if she hadn’t already taken on that title.

Her mind moved on to when he had said he would take her and her brother to live with him. The idea was ludicrous, of course. Just pack up and leave her home to live with some man—or rather, some demon—and pretend to be genial as he attempted to help raise Oka while spending each night on top of her? Although, that sounded rather like what would happen if she married Akiji.

She shivered despite her warm clothing. Akiji made her nervous. Of course, so did Vallen, but she saw gentleness in Vallen that he hid—and that Akiji faked. The promise Vallen had made to never hurt her hadn’t been part of their bargain but a gesture to show her he wouldn’t use force—would never need it. He had asked honestly and sweetly for her kiss, had given her clothing because she needed it rather than wanted it, and…

Shumei shook her head, hair flying about her face. Why was she thinking this way? She should be thinking of ways to escape her entanglement with him. As secretly tempting as his offer to take care of her and her brother was—

Wait. Vallen had never included her mother in the deal. Now that her mother had passed, the deal made sense. Had he already known?

Her jaw tightened with anger as she realized he most likely had known that her mother was dead when he’d approached her at the river. After all, he had known all those other things about the other villagers. He had been spying on her, on them. He must have snuck into her home. He must have known, and he hadn’t told her.

Why? Did he really think she had gone to the river to bathe while her brother slept in the same room as his dead mother? What if Oka had woken up first? She would never have left the two of them like that had she known.

Vallen couldn’t strike her, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t strike him, and the next time she saw him, she was going to hit him hard enough to make blood flow, she was sure of it.

⁂

A faint rustling woke Shumei with a jerk. Softly moaning because of a slight headache and a parched throat, she sat up, careful not to rouse her brother. The sun was an hour from rising, but she had slept enough. She needed to make breakfast before she and Oka went to the field today.

Oka, lying on his back, was deep asleep. His mouth was open, his face slack. She hated to start making noises that would wake him. Looking around the room to delay standing, her gaze fell on a small bundle sitting just inside their flimsy reed door. Confused, she walked over to the package and knelt to inspect it. Where had this come from?

Deciding to unwrap it, she pulled at the knot in the brown wrapping and swept aside the edges. Inside sat several small bundles, four in total. Each was tightly wrapped in the same rough, brown cloth. She unwrapped one and gasped. The bundle contained what she rarely had the privilege of eating: meat.

Deer meat, judging by the color, cut into thin strips and made into jerky. There was enough for several days, even if they ate it at every meal. Though delighted, she couldn’t help worrying there’d been a mistake. What in the world—

“What is it?” a sleepy voice asked. She turned to her brother, who had sat up.

Lifting a strip of deer jerky for his groggy contemplation, she gave him a small smile. “Someone left us a present.”

Chapter Six

Shumei had perhaps three hours of daylight to spend before the sun would set, and the day’s labors were almost over. After weeding, checking for pests, and sprinkling a compound to combat them, she had planted a large crop of kavua. In small quantities, it relieved general body aches, especially menstrual pain, and it was her most popular medicine lately. She would need all the income she could scrape together, so she’d decided to have more than enough on hand.

Her midday meal of rice, fresh, leafy vegetables, and a good helping of deer jerky sat warm in her stomach, even though she didn’t need the extra warmth when the day was turning out rather humid. It didn’t help matters that her dress was black and sucked in every ray of sunshine.

She looked up from the shallow hole she had dug in front of her, and found Oka at the edge of the field, shouting distance away. In his small hands, he held his version of a sword—a tree branch he’d found a few weeks ago. With a warrior’s determination, he slashed at invisible enemies and tested different moves and stances.

She might have thought he was merely playing hero with that fallen branch, but his expression and intense concentration told her he was practicing for something real. Frowning, she realized how much of his childhood Oka had missed. He didn’t laugh much. He didn’t play with the other village children, mostly because they had often said mean things about Mama. A brazen young boy had once thrown a rock at Shumei and had giggled when Oka yelled at him.

Because of her and Mama, he’d been forced to see such hatred. Some boys would lash out with anger and violence—although, she supposed hours of sword practice counted as violent—but Oka had never been particularly disobedient or short-tempered, and he had never gotten into any fights. He was quickly becoming an adult at the tender age of nine.

A drop of sweat rolled down her temple, and she resisted the urge to wipe at it with her dirty fingers. Though the sun shone down from a perfectly clear sky, the ground was still sticky and wet from a heavy rain a couple of days ago. In an effort to keep her dress clean, she had brought along the cloth that had been wrapped around the jerky, and had laid it on the ground to protect her skirt while she knelt in the soil.