Sisters of Heart and Snow by Margaret Dilloway Read Free Book Online Page B

“That’s just being mean.”
    Drew looked around for their mother, but she was in the kitchen, out of sight. Drew heard her banging a pan in there. Besides, even if they told their mother, she couldn’t do anything.
    Annoyance settled over Killian’s face. He ground his teeth lightly. “Well. Maybe you’ll get a lump of coal, too, my smart little Rachel.” Back then Rachel was Killian’s favorite. And Drew did find Spanish Barbie, wrapped up under the tree in white tissue paper that looked like it’d been pulled out of an old gift bag. She doesn’t remember what Rachel got.
    Drew’s lesson from that was to keep low, out of her father’s mind as much as possible. Be compliant. Let harsh words roll into one ear and out the other, the way you do if you’re an Army private and a sergeant’s yelling at you at boot camp. She never cried again at anything her father did.
    Instead, she retreated into her music, staying in her room or at school to practice for hours on end. She ought to thank her father for giving her that discipline. That’s how she got so good.
    Rachel was another story. Rachel hadn’t ever learned to keep to herself well. She’d always step in, tell Killian he was wrong, or do the things he told her not to do—and that was just like dangling a goat in front of a tiger. She pushed him too far.
    Still, Drew thinks that Rachel should have gotten over their childhood by now. Sure, their father’s kind of a sociopath. Sure, he was intelligent enough to know better, but it was just his personality. He couldn’t harm Drew or Rachel.
    Rachel’s almost forty, a full-grown woman with a loving, devoted husband and two smart, capable children. Her sister has so much more than most.
    She turns up her stereo, tuned to her iPod, to her current favorite song. “Time Won’t Let Me Go,” by The Bravery. They could make a musical out of her life and this song would be playing right now, she thinks, then laughs at her own melodrama. But still.
    Drew shuts off the music.

M IYANOKOSHI
    S HINANO P ROVINCE
    H ONSHU, J APAN
    Spring 1160
    H er father, Kaneto, ate the last of the rice. Tomoe waited, willing herself not to speak. Would she be punished for her actions against her brothers? Outside, her mother and her brothers laughed. At last Kaneto pushed away his empty rice bowl and spoke. “Tomoe, I have left off your education for too long. When the men are away, it is you who must defend our home.”
    Tomoe blinked, surprised.
    Kaneto rose and went to the large oak trunk in the corner of the room. This trunk held his possessions from his time as a retainer. None of the children were allowed to touch it. The boys did, of course, when their parents weren’t around, so Tomoe knew what the trunk contained: swords and armor.
    But it wasn’t the trunk Kaneto opened. He shoved it aside and bent to the floorboards, prying one up with his fingertips and reaching into the depths of the house. Kaneto fished around for a minute, then straightened. He held something Tomoe hadn’t seen before. It was a curved blade about two feet long, glinting in the dim light, set atop a wooden pole much taller than Tomoe herself.
    â€œA
naginata
.” He gestured for Tomoe to come closer. She took the pole in her hands, holding it up. It was heavy, but she could manage. She hefted it and took an experimental swing. With this, one could reach far. It was like having an eight-foot-long arm.
    Kaneto grunted approvingly. “You may think this is a sword for women and therefore less useful, but this is what the fierce warrior monks use.” He looked at her appraisingly. “Your being female has advantages, Tomoe. You are nimble and light. And you have more natural fortitude. You will make the boys work harder. They will fear being shamed by a girl.”
    Tomoe swung the sword up, stopping short of the ceiling. She had no wish to shame