The Shattering Waves (The Year of the Dragon, Book 7) by James Calbraith

He was no better than the Fanged. Lord Mori? He wanted to expel all the “barbarians” from Yamato, and that was a goal as unachievable as defeating the Black Wings, and just as futile.
    What did the other members of the rebellion fight for, she didn’t even know. The only factions she could associate her ideals with were Takasugi’s kiheitai, and the wizards of Kiyō, and they were now few and scattered in the winds of war.
    Was Yui telling the truth, then? Was the Serpent nothing but a secret conclave of immortal nobles, striving to steer Yamato in the direction of power and prosperity since the days of the first Taikuns ?
    Everything she knew about them so far was what Dōraku had told her and he was a Renegade. He had his own reasons to hate and fear the others. He had been engaged in a personal feud with Ganryū for centuries. Yui claimed Crimson Robe too, acted rashly and with unnecessary cruelty, his goals not aligned with those of a Serpent. Satō had had the chance to witness that the relations between the Heads of the Serpent were far from rosy.
    And now Ganryū was gone, replaced by someone much more reliable and rational: Yui would not yet tell her who, but she understood it was somebody positioned at the Edo court, close to the Taikun.
    Lady Yodo, once she stopped her nightly torments, became a paradigm of courtesy and grace towards Satō, almost as if everything she’d done before was really just a harsh but necessary way to release the wizardess’s powers. And Satō almost believed that herself.
    There remained only one snag. No matter how positive was the light in which Yui painted the Serpent’s history, how kind Yodo had become, both of them still exuded a cold dread, worse than Dragon Fear. It made her skin crawl and her throat dry, her muscles tense with desire to flee. She’d never felt anything like it around Dōraku.
    It’s evil.
    They were drinking human bloodand using the vile magic everyone had always warned her about. Abominations. It was as if Yui presented her with a beautiful rose flower which smelled of dung.
    In the morning, she decided to confront the White Robe about her misgivings.
    He smoothed his goatee into a sharp point.
    “An aura of evil, you say.” He nodded his head to his thoughts. “And how do you feel it? Which of your senses are you using? Can it be measured? Tested?”
    “N-no, I don’t think so,” she replied. “It’s just a feeling. Almost like a scent, but smelled with mind and heart.”
    “You disappoint me, Takashima Satō.” Every time he wanted her to pay attention, he used her full name. “I thought you were a scholar. Your Bataavian wizards would not follow their ‘feelings’ as an argument, but proper, objective research into the matter.”
    “Bataavian wizards would destroy you the moment they saw you.”
    “And they would be in their rights to do so.” He nodded. “In the West, our kind was used to fight the likes of them, a long, long time ago. But we are not in the West, and it is the present that concerns us, not the past.” He reached into the sleeve of his robe and rummaged inside for a moment, while still speaking. “How much of what you sense is prejudice? Because you’ve been warned against blood magic, you’re wary of its users …”
    “Because it requires killing people and drinking their blood! Because I know it addicts and controls. Who in their right mind would want to keep using such a vile thing?”
    Yui at last found the item he was looking for and threw it on the floor with a clang. It was Satō’s glove.
    “Who, indeed,” he said. “How about your dear father? Or your favourite mechanician, Tanaka- sama ? They both dabbled in it. They both knew it would have been necessary to save Yamato from the foreign invasions.”
    “They both loathed it. I loathe it.”
    Yui’s lips narrowed into a sad, resigned grimace.
    “And so do we, wizardess. But over the centuries, we had to learn to live with it. We can’t help how