Live, Love, Otome

No Longer Playing: Midnight Cinderella, Mr. Love: Queen's Choice, Destined to Love, Last Legacy, Arcana, Ikemen Revolution, Obey Me

Other Fandoms:

Dragon Age, BG3, Mass Effect, Diablo, Dragon's Dogma 2, The Magnus Archives/Protocol, The Last Dance, Malevolent, Stormlight Archives, The Expanse, Good Omens, The Wheel of Time, Dungeon Crawler Carl, and a ton of random fantasy, sci-fi, and horror stuff.

Original Character:

Akiko Nagai/Akechi

Quizzies:

Your Perfect Valentine Quiz

Find Your IkeVamp LoveStyle Quiz

Blog rules and Ask courtesy:

I try to tag all my fics. If it's tagged smut or very spicy, you can assume it's mature, so don't interact if you aren't.

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If you ASK as anon and I decide not to write your ask, you won't get any response. But if you ask as yourself, I'll let you know privately that I am not able write your request.

She sat down and tore a thin strip of paper from the edge of a decorative scroll. Then she wrote her first message. Nagai will rise again. What word from the right hand?

If the note writer was truly from her homeland, they would know the right hand was Morihide, her father's most trusted vassal. If they were not, they would expose themselves. Either way, she would learn something. Aki rolled the note up and slid it into the secret compartment. The hardest part now would be to wait. She decided to give her mystery contact three days. And in that time, she would also try to keep an eye on who was in and out of the room.

With that accomplished, Akiko leaned back against the wall and shut her eyes. Her anger was at low ebb, leaving her fear exposed. Behind her eyelids, she lived the moment in the garden again and again. The hiss of the arrow, the thud as it embedded itself in the tree. Mitsuhide's triumphant expression.

Would he have worn the same smile had the arrow struck home? Akiko pushed the question away. That didn't matter. What mattered was that he'd used her as bait, without so much as a whisper to her in warning. That he saved her life was immaterial, since he made the choice to risk it in the first place. It was a good reminder that she was only a token, no matter the teasing looks and touches. 

The afternoon light slipped away in silence, leaving Akiko alone with her thoughts in a room lit only by the cold and distant stars. She drifted off to sleep, chin resting against her chest, her thoughts spinning round alliances and enemies in a web as endless as a serpent eating its tail.

Akiko woke with a start to the sound of the door sliding open. She looked up, expecting to see one of her maids. Instead, Akechi filled the doorway. His hair was mussed and lank with sweat. He wore the same clothes, now rumpled and dirty. There was strain in the lines of his face and dark circles beneath his eyes. 

"Akiko." His voice was rough, and after he said her name, he cleared his throat. Then he stepped inside, a wooden tray in one hand. It held a pot and several small, covered bowls. "Did you sleep here?"

"What do you want?" She sat up, rubbing her neck. It was sore from sleeping slumped against the wall. Her feet tingled with pins and needles as she tried to get them under her so she could stand. 

Mitsuhide's smile was thin, his gaze unreadable. "I've brought you breakfast."

Aki glared at him. "Then set it down and leave. I don't want to see you right now."

"But I want to see you." He sat across from her and set the tray on the floor. "More importantly, we need to talk."

She let out a tired sigh. "It's too early for this." She reached for the pot, poured herself a cup of tea. It smelled of barley, a warm and comforting scent. 

Mitsuhide said nothing, letting her sip from the cup and nibble at her breakfast. 

"Fine," she said, after several minutes. "Say what you came to say. I'm awake enough now to listen."

"Wonderful." He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "I finished with our guests about an hour ago."

Aki blinked. "Guests?"

He nodded. "The assassin and his accomplices." Mitsuhide's mouth twisted in a grimace. He went on, his voice gentle, steady. "They did not know as much as I might have liked. Save that your death was meant to ignite a rebellion in Nagai and force your brother to break his alliance with the Oda."

"Why are you telling me this?" She felt a turmoil of emotion, more than she was ready to handle at this hour, or any hour really. It didn't surprise her that some would account her loss as worthwhile. Such calculations were necessary in war, but hearing it from him, hearing it in that infuriatingly calm, kind voice was too much. 

Mitsuhide raised a hand as if to touch her, but instead reached for the pot. He quietly poured himself a cup of the barley tea. "Would you prefer to be left ignorant? I thought you were stronger than that."

"If you really believed that, you would have told me about the assassin before we had lunch." Akiko frowned. "You would have made me part of your planning. But you still don't trust me. Did you think I was working with a man sent to kill me?"

He chuckled. "No. I didn't think that. I was afraid you might not be able to act unaware. You might have tipped off the assassin, and then we wouldn't have been able to capture them."

"Ah, so you just thought I might be incompetent. Thanks." She tried to get hold of the anger before it got hold of her. Mitsuhide always got under her skin, Aki thought. With his teasing and his gaze and his serpent tongue. 

Mitsuhide shook his head. "More that I did not know what to expect. You are unpredictable, and that, little mouse, is a compliment." 

Akiko crushed the flutter in her chest at his words. She wasn't about to let him get to her with nice words. "Fine. So. Did you learn anything worthwhile? What you've told me so far is no more than a plot any courtier would come up with."

"Worthwhile. Hm." He considered her across the tray. "Two of his spotters did not know who they were working for. Fools that took money without asking questions."

"Another common tactic." Aki shrugged. The motion set off an ache in her neck. She reached up to dig at the muscles there, trying to rub the pain away.

He smiled. "True." Mitsuhide held out his hand, palm open to her. "You are going to hurt yourself like that. Come here."

Akiko reluctantly scooted closer, and was a little surprised when he took hold of her side and slid her in front of him, pushing the tray to the side. His hands slid warmly up her shoulder, pressing firmly into the tissues there. His thumbs dug into her muscles as he slowly worked up to her neck and back down again. It felt good, she thought, fighting the urge to relax into his touch. 

"So. Where was I? Oh yes. Worthwhile information." Mitsuhide paused, though his hands continued their sensual work. "Do you know the name Morihide?"

"Yes. That's a dead man. One of my father's vassals." Aki almost turned her head to check his expression, but she couldn't with his fingers playing a melody at the back of her neck. She could pull away, but couldn't bring herself to. Deny it though she would, he was quite good at this. 

Mitsuhide made a sound of assent. "The assassin mentioned that. Morihide was your father's most trusted vassal. And he is dead? You are certain?"

"The assassin didn't tell you?" 

"He told me this was Morihide's plan. But he received his orders from a runner, and has not seen Morihide since before Nagai fell." Mitsuhide let out a breath. "It isn't much to go on, though we are looking for this runner now."

Akiko sighed again, aiming to sound annoyed rather than pleased. In truth, she was both. Morihide might yet live, and that was something to be happy about. That he was willing to see her die for Nagai, less so, but not unexpected. "It doesn't sound like you learned much of anything."

Mitsuhide's fingers stopped their play on her skin, and she realized in that still moment how vulnerable she was. His hands on either side of her neck, it would take only a slight, quick movement. A flick of his wrist, and she would be dead. Dread pooled in her stomach and a different kind of prickling spread across her skin. Her only defense was her certainty that if she died, it would cause the Oda more problems than she did while living. If that changed . . .

"You're still afraid of me," Mitsuhide said, his voice so quiet that she thought he spoke more to himself than to her. 

She was about to protest that she feared nothing when he let go of her and stood. 

"The assassin is resting and I have work to be about. I'll let you know if further questioning yields more information. Worthwhile information." His smile was sharp and his eyes hard. Akiko watched him leave, her chest tight with a mix of emotions. 

A few moments later, Mai poked her head into the room and surveyed the situation. After a moment, the maid gave a rueful shake of her head. "I think we're gonna need some retail therapy."

"Some . . . what?" Akiko asked, standing. 

"You, me, and Akechi's money, at the marketplace. Today." Mai grinned, but the expression slid from her face as Yua's voice came from the hall.

"My lady is not to leave the estate without the express permission of Lord Akechi. And I doubt we'll get it, as there are assassins on the loose."

Akiko sighed. "Yua is correct. I'm not allowed to leave."

Mai looked down for a moment, chewing at her lower lip, then, "Well, you know what they say. Always better to ask forgiveness than permission." 

"What," Yua and Aki said together.

"Doesn't matter. Come on. Let's get you dressed." Mai took Akiko 's arm and led her out, grabbing Yua on the way. It was the fastest Akiko had ever been dressed. Mai was like a whirlwind, herding Yua and Aki toward her singular goal. 

When Akiko was dressed and her hair braided, Mai grinned. "Alright. Now to talk our way out the front door."

Yua shook her head. "It isn't going to work. The guards -"

"Are not that hard to deal with," Mai interrupted.

Akiko looked from one to the other. The notion of leaving for a few hours, of being someplace other than here in these same few rooms was incredibly appealing. But Yua was right, as far as that went. There was no way the guards would just let her walk out. "Let's see what you can do, then," she told Mai finally.

The three of them stopped at the entry to Akiko's wing of the estate. As expected, a guard stood there, leaned back against the wall, eyes half closed. 

Mai tapped him on the shoulder and he started awake. "Excuse me, sorry to interrupt your nap. I need you to escort my lady into town. We have some shopping to do."

The guard looked confused. His eyes darted from one woman to the other. "Shopping?"

"For her health and well-being. So come on. You're wasting time!"

Yua mouthed the word no, but the guard wasn't looking at her. He was too busy giving Mai a perplexed look. 

"Health?" The guard sounded even more confused than he looked. "But Kyubei said -"

"I just spoke with my husband. If you like, I can have him brought back here to clarify his orders to you? He's been up all night torturing would-be assassins, so I'm sure he'll be pleased with being disturbed for such a reason." Akiko interrupted. "If I were trying to go someplace I shouldn't do you think I'd be asking for your escort?"

The guard considered for a moment, then nodded. "There's no need to disturb Lord Akechi. I can escort you, but I will need to bring additional men."

Mai gave a theatrical sigh. "Finally, the man shows sense. Hurry up then!"

It took only a few minutes to round up two more guards and then the three ladies were out. Yua looked annoyed but Mai was triumphant. "I told you we could do it," she whispered.

Akiko flashed her a smile. She liked this new maid. "Lead on," she instructed.

The girls led the way to the market, chatting as they went. Mai regaled Akiko with recommendations for the best places to eat, where to get the cutest hair accessories and make-up, and a rundown of every fabric merchant in town. 

Yua didn't say much at first, but as they stopped to look at fans, she began to relax. "These are very fine, my lady. Look at the detail," she gestured to one painted with brightly colored flowers and a jade handle. "Or this one! The carved wood is so very fine!"

Akiko had to grant her good taste. "Did you see this one?" She gestured to one painted with lotus pond, the handle carved in the shape of a leaping fish. "I think Reo would love it." 

Mai nodded enthusiastically. "She would!" 

They ended up buying the fan for Reo and another Mai liked. Then a comb for Yua, which she adamantly tried to refuse until Aki pointed out that they'd already bought something for Reo. Akiko stopped at a weaver's stall to look at the woven mats. There was a collection of hirao as well, woven belts with intricate patterns and images. 

One was made in several shades of green, with a pattern of ginseng leaves and twined roots. Akiko thought Hideyoshi might like it, and said so. When she did, the seller stopped short. "Hideyoshi . . . Toyotomi?"

Akiko nodded. "Yes?"

The seller looked her up and down. "You won't have much chance, but if you want to try, I'll sell it to you."

"Chance?" Akiko cocked her head. "I don't understand."

Mai laughed. "It isn't like that. This is Lady Akechi, already married. Toyotomi is a friend." 

"The snake?" The seller's expression turned sympathetic. "I heard he was married but I thought it must be a rumor."

"What did you call my lord," Yua bristled. 

Akiko patted her arm. "People are entitled to their opinions. Anyway, yes, I'd like to get this for Hideyoshi, if that's alright?"

"Of course. When I found those colors, they made me think of him." Her eyes grew dreamy. "He is so kind and handsome and strong. I write to him every time I hear he is being sent out to fight."

Mai smiled in commiseration. "Another sister."

The seller nodded. "I don't think anyone will ever catch him." She packaged up the belt and handed it to Yua as the maid gave her payment. Before they left, she pressed a small, braided cord into Akiko's hands. "Here, for luck and safety."

Akiko wanted to ask why, but Yua was already hurrying off with Mai close behind. She tucked the cord into her pocket and continued on. They stopped at several other shops, looking at jewelry and fabric and pottery. 

The afternoon was going well until Mai nudged her arm and whispered, "Don't look now but we are so busted."

Sariel thought she would have an easy enough time, his words, to correlate world events and ruling philosophy to the actions of past kings. Then she could analyse current events against what she knew of the princes to make an informed decision. Whatever that meant. 

Most of the text was deadly boring, dry and matter of fact. Emma found her thoughts drifting every time she tried to focus on the books. Back to the tavern, dancing with a prince and then the dashing knight. Nevermind the way they left the tavern. She wanted to understand why Cyran looked so sad that night. 

A knock at her door brought Emma to her feet. She wasn't expecting guests and it was entirely too early for lunch. It might be Clavis, she thought, taking over another meal with his awful cooking. "Hello? Who is it?"

The door swung open, banging into the wall. "Emma! You're alright!" 

Not even a heartbeat later, she was wrapped in Rio's arms, her vision a mass of his messy blonde hair. "R-rio? What are you doing here? Can you put me down?"

Rio reluctantly let her go, his gaze darting over her figure, taking in every detail. "I was so so worried! You wouldn't believe the last few days!" He laughed. "Well, I bet I wouldn't believe your last few days either! Living in the palace and all!"

Emma had to laugh at his breathless earnestness. "It's been interesting. How is Mr. Akatsuki? And the bookstore?"

"Everything is fine. He's worried about you, but I told him I would make sure you were ok." Rio gave her a wide, innocent grin, but it didn't reach his eyes. Those now roved about the room, alert and suspicious. 

"She is safer here than anywhere else, dog." Sariel's ice-cold voice cut through Rio's excitement, and the blonde turned his head towards the door. "Now that you've seen her, come along. The Belle doesn't have time for you, and there is work to be done."

Emma cocked her head in confusion. "Work to be done?"

Sariel answered for Rio. "In exchange for being allowed to serve you at the castle, he has agreed to work for me. I plan to get every ounce of usefulness out of him."

"Yep. Boss man promised to work me to the bone." Rio laughed. 

"Ummm. I don't think you should sound so happy about that." Emma looked between the two men, still confused.

Rio took her hand. "I would do anything to protect my future wife. Especially in a place like this!"

Emma took her hand back with a rueful grin. "You really shouldn't joke like that. People will take you seriously."

Sariel took a step in, noting the open books. "I'm glad you are taking the time to study. I will ensure you receive additional materials later today."

"Thanks." Emma held in a sigh. 

Rio winked at her. "Don't worry, I'm here to help now! Studying with me will be a breeze."

"I appreciate that," she said, "but I don't think you can be much help here. Unless you secretly know all about the lives of princes and the responsibilities of royals." Emma giggled. The idea was preposterous. 

Rio laughed too. "Maybe not, but I know how to study."

"Enough." Sariel barked. "Come along."

"I'll be back later," Rio promised, giving her a little bow before following Sariel out. 

Emma felt absurdly better to know she had a friend she could trust in the palace now. Someone that wasn't part of the royal family with all their intrigues and arguments. Nor one of the endless servants that said little with their lips and too much with their eyes. 

She turned back to her books, determined to make some progress. Unfortunately, determination wasn't enough to get her brain on track. Emma stood, stretched, stared out the window. The day was beautiful, sunny and mild. The palace gardens tempted her with colorful blossoms and lush greenery. 

The books were left open as she snuck out into the hall, decision made. "I'll just take a little walk. No big deal. Sariel won't even notice. And when I come back, I'll be ready to study." That was the promise Emma made herself as she slipped downstairs and out a servant's entrance. 

Outside, the air was heavy with the scent of roses and the hum of happy bees. Emma took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing from a tightness she hadn't even realized was there. Days like this always made her feel as if everything would be alright. 

Emma spotted a figure ahead as she made her way along the garden paths. A woman, she thought, well dressed, so probably a noble and not a servant. She didn't feel up to talking to anyone just then, so she turned off the path, but not quickly enough.

"Hello! Hi there!" The woman called out, taking a few steps in her direction.

The thought of running away did cross Emma's mind, but that would only mark the encounter out as strange. So she took a deep breath and turned to face her, a polite smile pasted across her worry like a paper mask. "Hello. I didn't see you there."

"It's fine. I was just taking a little walk. Hoping I might run into one of our bachelor princes." The woman giggled, her hand smoothing the elaborate coif of her hair. "My name is Joanna, by the way."

"Emma. Nice to meet you." She wasn't sure what else to add, so she fell silent. 

Joanna took another step closer. "How odd though! I don't recall your debut. And you don't sound foreign." Her smile took on a sharpness. "What family are you here with?"

"I, um," Emma cleared her throat, reaching for the backstory Sariel had provided her. "M-my family is from a country estate. Very small. Minister Noir agreed to allow me to train with him. Th-that's all."

"I know all the families and I don't recall hearing of an Emma amongst my competition." Another step closer. "What is your family name?"

"There you are, my lady!" Cyran's cheerful voice split the venomous tension between the two women. 

The sharpness in Joanna's face disappeared behind a veil of simpering beauty. "Oh! Master Rose! Are you here to deliver a reply to my last note for Prince Clavis?"

Cyran's smile didn't falter as he gave her an elegant bow. "I fear not, Lady Joanna. I'm on a mission to bring back Lord Noir's missing trainee." He turned to Emma, his expression turning serious. "You can't simply wander off like that! Lord Noir is furious."

Emma paled. She'd hoped her dereliction would go unnoticed. "I am so sorry! I just needed a little break."

"Well, you'll have to take that up with Lord Noir." Cyran took her arm. 

Emma couldn't help but note the smirk on Joanna's face as she was led off by the soldier. But even if she was in trouble with Sariel, at least she'd gotten through the interaction without giving anything away. "Is Sariel really angry," she asked Cyran when they were out of earshot. 

The soldier laughed. "Nah, he probably doesn't know you left your room."

"What? Then . . ." Emma's brows lifted. "You lied to that lady!" She was about to thank him when a sudden worry crept in. "Did Prince Clavis send you to get me?"

He grinned. "What if I said yes?"

"Please please tell me he didn't make lunch." 

Cyran's dark gaze glittered. "Mmm, well, he was in the kitchen . . ."

Emma groaned. "I already did breakfast! Does the prince have no mercy? Cyran, please, just, I don't know. Tell him you couldn't find me. Take me to Sariel and I'll confess to leaving if you have to take me anywhere."

His expression was grave. "I serve my prince first."

"I . . . I understand." Emma took a slow, deep breath. She could do this. She could eat if she had to. Just a bite or two. Her tummy did a little queasy flip as it remembered breakfast. 

Cyran started laughing again, hard enough that he stopped on the path. "I'm sorry," he said as he caught his breath.

"Is my suffering so funny to you?"

"No," he grinned, wiping his eye. "I shouldn't laugh, I guess. But just so you know, I'm only kidding. Prince Clavis is busy with Prince Silvio. Trade discussion over merchant use of the Benitoite ports. Our Azurite allies pass along import tax, so it's making certain goods too expensive."

Emma blinked. "Wait. So there is no awful lunch?"

"Nope. I just saw you struggling with that court gossip and thought you might want an escape route." Cyran smirked. "Then you were so worried about lunch that I had to tease."

"You are so mean." Emma shook her head. "But thanks for the rescue. That lady was starting to push on my story and I was so scared I would say the wrong thing."

"Mmm. She's a dangerous one. Joanna Beauvais. She comes to court every season, trying to attract the notice of one of the princes. That's not what makes her dangerous though." 

Emma couldn't keep her curiosity in check. "So what does?"

Cyran shrugged. "She studies the other families, keeps tabs on the factions. There are rumors she blackmailed merchants. And there have been a few disappearances. Nothing we can link directly to her, but all were in competition with her or her family at court."

"Woah. I didn't even think about nobles being dangerous like that. Just that I might say the wrong thing and give myself away." 

"You have to remember, with so much money and power at stake, some people will do anything." Cyran laid a hand on her shoulder. "And you really shouldn't wander around by yourself."

She nodded. "I realize that. I just thought a little walk in the garden would be safe enough." Emma paused, an idea coming to her. "Say. I don't want to impose. I know you're really busy with stuff for Prince Clavis and all, but, if you have a little time, well, do you think - could you tutor me?"

The soldier blinked. "Tutor you? In what?" His expression was genuinely confused.

"I was just thinking. I can learn a lot from books. But I can't learn stuff like this. Who is dangerous, who connects to who, how to deal with them. I feel so unprepared and you seem like you know a lot."

Cyran's brow crinkled in thought. "I mean, I guess I could. But there are probably way better people to tell you that kind of thing. Prince Nokto knows everybody. And Sariel's got spies for his spies."

"Yeah, but Sariel only tells me what he thinks I should know and Prince Nokto is a - a prince. I can't imagine asking him this kind of thing."

The soldier considered. "Alright. I guess I see where you're coming from. I don't know how much help I would be but, I can tell you what I know."

Emma impulsively hugged him, but dropped her arms when she felt him stiffen uncomfortably. "Sorry! I was just really happy. And grateful. Thank you Cyran."

"Of course, my lady." 

"You know you can call me Emma, right? I'm not really a lady." She smiled. "It's weird to have people calling me that and bringing me things all the time. I haven't had to wash dishes or clean my clothes or anything."

Cyran's smile was gentle. "You are a lady to me. So I'm going to keep calling you that, alright?"

"Alright." Emma felt a little bittersweet pang. It was nice that he thought of her like that, but she also wanted him to be . . . less formal? More friendly. Like Rio. Well, maybe not exactly like Rio. She couldn't imagine the big redhead being so goofy and affectionate. "Sorry if I shouldn't ask for things like that."

"It's fine. I just want to make sure I'm respectful. Even if you aren't a noble, you are The Belle, and that means something." He took her arm again and continued on. "You are like an honored guest and I'm a servant here, showing you the courtesy you're owed, even if you don't know it."

Emma nodded. "That makes sense, I guess. Thanks for explaining it to me." She paused, then went on. "So, what's the first thing I need to know about being in the palace?"

Cyran was thoughtful for a little while, walking quietly at her side. Then, "The most important thing is not to believe what you see or hear. Nearly everyone here wears a mask. They've got one agenda they show and the real purpose is hidden in there. Always think about who benefits and how in every interaction."

"That sounds complicated." 

"It is. Like with Lady Joanna. She spotted you and immediately wanted to determine if you were a potential competitor. She's here to make a good marriage alliance, and a mysterious beauty could ruin her plans. So she approached you and tried to pry your information out. But you did exactly what you should do. Say little and smile a lot."

Emma heard everything he said, but the words mysterious beauty rang in her ears and brought heat spiraling up into her cheeks. "So, umm, I," she cleared her throat, "I did good?"

He agreed. "You did. But you've got to develop a better mask. Layers of masks, even. If you can have one that's your pretend agenda, one that's a pretend real scheme, and then the truth under all of that, you'll do great."

"Ugh." She sighed. "I'll have to think about that."

Cyran chuckled. "Don't look so down about it. It won't be that hard. Nearly everyone will assume what she did. You're some country bumpkin, barely noble, here to find a husband. That's your outward agenda. Under that, maybe . . ." He trailed off.

"I could be secretly angling for royal favor? That would explain why I agreed to work for Sariel and why I meet with princes. Royal favor for my house. They need, um, ah," now it was her turn to fall silent.

"Land," the soldier piped up. "Or permits for trade. Those come up a lot." 

"Ok, yeah. Maybe both, since we're destitute nobility." She smiled, starting to feel a little better. "What else?"

"You've got to carry yourself like you are too good to be standing on the ground. Hold your head up, shoulders back." Cyran paused, stopping to adjust her posture.

Emma was entirely too aware of his hand at her back, and when he took her chin and tilted it up a bit, she thought he must feel her pounding pulse. No one but Mr. Akatsuki and Rio laid hands on her, and they were family. This was different. Pleasant and a little scary. She didn't know the soldier very well, and she was here for a very specific job. One that would end soon. And after that? She'd probably never see Cyran or any of the princes again. That was the deal. Clause 99 and all. 

She swallowed and told her racing pulse to calm down. "Thanks. I'll try to remember that."

"Good." He grinned. "Now, let's see. People to watch out for. Hmmm. There's Lord Flandre. He used to work for Prince Chevalier, but is now part of the anti-monarchist faction. And Roderich. He looks like a butler, but he's a soldier." Cyran tapped his chin. "Mmm, then there's Lord Galanz. He's got issues with Nokto and the whole foreign affairs faction. He's always scheming."

"Why is he angry with them? Because of Prince Chevalier or?"

The soldier shook his head with a laugh. "No, it's actually Prince Nokto's fault. See, Galanz was set to marry the daughter of a wealthy merchant from Jade. But the alliance with that Jadean family would have given him too much influence over silver exports to Jade. So the prince seduced his fiance, and made sure they got caught during one of the palace balls."

Emma was aghast. "He seduced some poor woman for politics?"

"That's basically his job," Cyran laughed. "Charming people anyway. But the affair completely destroyed the Galanz alliance. Kept the market stable, but made some wealthy enemies."

Emma mostly kept quiet while Cyran talked. Despite his claim that he wouldn't be much help, the soldier had tidbits about everyone at court, from the maids and gardeners all the way up to the King. And because he related the information through interesting stories, she felt like she'd remember it better. 

"That's why no one trusts the 3rd floor maid. She had to know the soap Prince Clavis gave her was suspect, but she used it on the entire batch of sheets anyway." Cyran laughed. 

"She might not have known he was playing a trick," Emma protested. 

Cyran shook his head. "Trust me. Everyone knows better than to trust a 'gift' from Prince Clavis." 

"I suppose I should keep that in mind too. Every time he offers me something, it's probably a joke," Emma said, turning thoughtful. "I can't figure out with him when he's actually trying to be helpful and when he's just playing a trick on me."

"It's always both." Cyran's hip bumped hers playfully. "I probably shouldn't tell you that though." 

Emma sighed. "I kind of already figured that out. Thanks for confirming." 

"Sure, just don't tell him I told you." The soldier grinned, but the smile slid from his face a moment later. "Don't look now but I think we're busted."

She peered in the direction of his gaze and her eyes widened. "Lord Noir. Oh. Oh no. He looks angry."

"That's just his face. Come on. He's spotted us and I'm out of smoke bombs." Cyran led her toward the royal advisor. 

Emma gave Sariel a curtsy, her expression stricken. "Lord Noir, I, I, I just needed to take a walk. But don't worry! I'm going to spend the whole afternoon with the books you got for me!" 

Sariel's eyes were as hard as amethysts. "I trusted you to study on your own, yet here you are. Enjoying a leisure stroll. How much time do you think we have? There are foreign princes in the palace. Trouble is brewing on the border. Our own citizens question the right of the royal family. But you have time for this?" 

She felt his words like blows. He was right, of course. She'd been entrusted with a task she could not shirk, and here she was, wasting time because some of that work was boring. "I am so sorry. I swear, it won't happen again."

"I will ensure that this lesson does not slip your mind again." Sariel beckoned her to his side.

Emma traded a look with Cyran, one she hoped meant 'see you later and sorry about all this!', then hurried to Sariel. "I promise, after lunch I'll spend every second studying until bedtime!"

The minister arched one perfectly sculpted dark brow. "Lunch? There is no time for that. And bedtime, well . . . we'll see." He led her back to her room, where another stack of books awaited her. 

She was about to sit down when Sariel snapped a riding crop against the side of the chair. Emma hadn't even noticed he had the thing but the sharp sound of it certainly got her attention. 

"We won't be reading right now. You can do that on your own tonight." He frowned at her, cocking his head.

"If I may ask, Lord Noir, what will we be doing then?" She felt honestly worried. What other devilry might the minister have up his sleeve?

Sariel's frown deepened. "Comportment. Courtesy. Decorum. I can't have you charging through the palace like an uncivilized barn animal."

Emma's cheeks heated with unpleasant emotions. "Barn animal?" She raised her chin and drew her shoulders back as Cyran showed her earlier. "I am doing my best. I never asked to be Belle. I told you I didn't think I was a good choice for this, but you insisted. So excuse me if my manners don't meet your standards. I am trying and I will learn."

For a moment, the air between them was thick with tension. She had no idea how he might react and was half afraid she'd end up in a cell beneath the palace. But then, Sariel laughed. A hearty, rich sound of genuine amusement. "It's been awhile since someone was brave enough to speak to me that way. Bravo."

He looked her over. "And you almost have the posture down already. Wonderful. Unclench your fists and put a smile on your face."

Emma nearly fell over in surprise. "Umm, ok?" 

"No, no; now you look like a carp. I said smile, not gape." Sariel gave her a thin smile of his own. "We're in for a long day, but you aren't the first recalcitrant I've taught."

"Oh? Who else did you teach this to?" She tried to relax while still maintaining her stance. 

Sariel chuckled. "Perhaps I'll tell you if you do well with your lessons."

The girl was a little odd, but friendly. She spoke in a strange accent when she introduced herself, and her bow was a little clumsy, but there was a kindness about her that Aki liked. 

"It's nice to meet you, Mai. Tell me, how did you come to know Toyotomi?" Akiko stood with the maid in the entry hall to her wing, Reo a few steps behind her. 

Mai laughed. "Ah, well. I guess I sort of saved Nobunaga's life? Hideyoshi didn't like me much at first, but he warmed up to me after awhile." 

Akiko tried to process that. She couldn't imagine how this slip of a girl could save anyone, but decided there would be time later to pump her for details. "That sounds like an interesting story. So, you saved Lord Oda's life and then became a maid?"

"Technically, I'm a princess? But I just can't sit around doing nothing. So I was working in Nobunaga's castle, and then with the seamstresses. But when Hideyoshi told me about you, I had to help! It's just awful." Her eyes were wide and gentle and full of some emotion akin to pity. 

"I don't need any help," Akiko snapped. The wounded look on the girl's face made her feel immediately bad for her temper. Besides, she needed to cultivate this relationship. Mai could be an ally, or at least, someone not beholden to Mitsuhide. "I'm sorry," Aki reached over to pat the girl's hand. "I'm just . . . a little touchy. I feel so disconnected. Powerless. I'm not used to it."

Mai smiled. "It's ok. I understand. Not everything, of course, but when I first got here, I felt pretty overwhelmed too. The - the place I come from is very different. My life there was nothing like it is now."

Akiko felt her curiosity piqued. "But you don't have to stay. Or are you also a hostage?"

"I could leave," she agreed. "But I made a new home here, and I love my Oda family and - and other friends." Mai's expression brightened. "So, what do you like to do here?"

"Mostly I just walk around, read, practice. Wait for news. There isn't much to being the wife of Mitsuhide Akechi." 

Mai's eyes narrowed. "That guy is sneaky. And he reads minds!" She added the last part in a loud whisper. 

Akiko laughed. "He might. But he doesn't know as much as he thinks he does." She leaned forward, a sudden inspiration taking her. "Do you like games?"

"What kind of games," the maid asked.

When Mitsuhide arrived for their daily meal together, he found the two women lying on their bellies, a sugoroku board between them, along with a collection of empty wine bottles. Mai glanced at him and grinned. To Akiko, she said, "It looks like your guy showed up. Does that -hic- mean you forfeit?"

"Forfeit? Come on, I'm winning!" Aki gestured to the board, but accidentally bumped it. The carved discs went bouncing across the floor with a clatter.

"Well. I guess we can call it a draw," Mai giggled and Akiko laughed with her.

Mitsuhide sighed. "It's clear we won't be working on any accounts today. But you don't get out of lunch together so easily." He bent down to help her to her unsteady feet.

Akiko let herself lean into him, telling herself this was to test him. How much could she get away with, and how would he react to it. But in truth, it was just comforting to stumble against his chest and relax into the strength of his arm around her waist and at her shoulder. "I never said I wanted out of lunch." She stuck her tongue out at him.

"Hmm. Maybe I should ensure you drink every day. You're less waspish." He studied her face with those glimmer-gold eyes of his. They were warm like summer honey, she thought, then mentally slapped herself for the errant compliment. 

She pulled away from him, though her balance wasn't great. "I am not. Waspish." 

Mitsuhide chuckled. "No? And yet I am sure you've stung me. Right in my heart." He put a hand to his chest theatrically.

Akiko rolled her eyes. "You don't need to lie in front of Mai. She's my new maid, the one Hideyoshi sent."

"Whoever said I was lying?" 

She let out a long breath. He almost sounded genuine. "Fine. Keep teasing." Aki shook her head, hoping to clear it of the wine-fog. She knew she must be pretty drunk.

Mitsuhide held out a hand. "Come. We will eat in the garden." 

Akiko took it, mostly because she was sure she couldn't walk there without a little support. She waved to Mai and then allowed Mitsuhide to lead her out. The bright sunlight made her eyes water at first, and it took a moment to clear her vision. When she did, she saw that Mitsuhide set out a think blanket under the trees for their meal. Several baskets were clustered in the center, along with two ceramic jugs full of some fragrant drink. 

"This looks nice," Aki said after a moment of inspection.

"I thought we ought to celebrate." He sat gracefully, legs crossed, posture relaxed. Mitsuhide patted the spot next to him. 

She sat down, almost toppling over. Damn the wine, she thought. "What are we celebrating?"

"Nearly two months wed." He smiled at her innocently, which immediately made her suspicious. Of what, she wasn't sure.

"So you aren't about to give me bad news or try to get information out of me or something?"

Mitsuhide only smiled. "Kyubei mentioned you have a preference for spicy food. I hope this is to your taste." He gestured toward a basket. There was a covered bowl inside, with a rice and pepper mixture that smelled heavenly.

"Kyubei needs to stop spying on me. If you want to know what I like, just ask," Aki huffed. But that didn't stop her from taking a bite. It was very good. Delicate, roasted meat and peppers that left a heat on her lips and tongue. 

He chuckled. "Oh? You've been so forthcoming, have you?"

"I tell you what I want you to know." Akiko frowned at him. He was frustratingly unflappable. 

Mitsuhide laughed again. "I haven't tried to put you to the question, wife. If I did, you would answer every question I asked."

Akiko lifted one of the jugs, sniffed it. "What is this?"

"Peach juice and wine. Not poisoned." 

She decided to ignore his teasing addition and poured a cup for herself. It was good. Sweet and refreshing, with just a slight warmth from the alcohol. 

"You should probably have some water." Mitsuhide poured her a cup from the second jug and held it out to her.

Akiko didn't want to drink it, just because he told her to. But she also didn't want a headache later. His expression told her that he knew exactly what was running through her mind. He was infuriating, she thought. Aki snatched the cup and gulped it down, being as defiantly obedient as she could be. 

"Hm. I take it back. You are just as prickly when drinking. I suppose there is no simple answer." Mitsuhide gave a theatrical sigh. 

"If it took you this long to learn that about me, you haven't been paying attention." She opened another basket, pleased to find rice in one, and vegetable soup in the other.  

"And if I told you I've been paying very close attention?" He cocked his head.

Aki shrugged. "Then I would say you were lying. As usual."

Mitsuhide let out another sigh, though his smile didn't budge. "I have yet to tell you a lie."

"Whatever." She waved a hand in the air, dismissing his comment entirely. 

"You assume much." His gaze narrowed. "So, tell me about your new maid."

Akiko didn't see a reason not to, so she told him the little she'd learned about Mai that morning. And somehow, the conversation turned to her other maids, and those she'd left behind at Nagai. Their personalities, the work they did, the awkward friendships formed. 

Mitsuhide nodded along, listening. And surprisingly, he shared with her as well. About his trust in Kyubei and the struggle to find those skilled enough for the work but loyal to more than just the payment. "Reo was especially challenging," he told her. "I wasn't going to take her but Yua vouched for her."

"Why was Reo a challenge? She's pretty quiet, knows her work . . ."

"She had a sick child. Such things make easy paths for betrayal. A promised treatment, a rumor of blame. So many ways to use the child against her." Mitsuhide glanced away, as if to hide his expression.

Akiko set a hand on his arm. "So why did you take her then?"

"The child died." 

She could hear a trace of grief in his voice, sorrow for a tragedy that was entirely common. Aki felt an answering tightness in her own chest, a painful clenching of her heart. "That is awful."

Mitsuhide said nothing for a long moment, but when he turned to face her again, his emotions were hidden firmly behind his sharp smile. "It was. Especially when I'd already decided I would risk her on Yua's word. I found a doctor for the child, but he came too late." He brushed a thumb across her cheek, just under her eye. "There's no need to look so sad about it. This was years ago."

"Still." Aki swallowed. After a moment to get her feelings back under control, she added, "I think anyone alive long enough suffers some heartache." 

Mitsuhide said nothing in reply, but a moment later, he grabbed her by the arm and pulled hard.

Akiko fell forward, landing atop the food and knocking one of the jugs over. The juice spilled onto the blanket in a puddle of sticky-sweet damp. She was about to shout, when an arrow thudded into the tree. Had she been upright, it would have gone through her throat.

"There! Go!" Mitsuhide was on his feet, sword in hand a heartbeat later. Soldiers were scrambling atop the wall, and somewhere, someone screamed. 

Akiko sat up in the midst of the chaos, confused and angry. She spotted a man atop an outbuilding roof just as he was being tackled to the ground. His bow clattered to the side. Another assassination attempt. Akechi had saved her life. 

"Are you alright," he asked, his gaze still focused on their surroundings. 

"Fine." She stood, rubbing her arm. There would be a bruise, she thought. But that was better than an arrow to the neck. Looking at the roofline, there was no way Mitsuhide could have seen the man from a sitting position. So how had he known to pull her aside?

Kyubei came running up. He gave them a quick once over and then reported in. "The assassin was taken down, along with two spotters. They expected us to come up from the ground rather than across from the wall."

Mitsuhide nodded. "Good. All still alive? Any injuries?"

"Two guards were hurt. The assassin and spotters are alive, with only minor wounds."

"Prepare them for questioning. I'll be along shortly." Mitushide gave the order and Kyubei hurried away.

Akiko watched him go. "You knew."

Mitsuhide turned toward her. "I did."

"You used me as bait." She pointed toward the arrow where it jutted from the tree trunk. "I could have died!"

"No. The only dangerous attack is the one you don't see coming, little mouse. Do you think I would let some amateur assassin kill my lovely wife?"

She wanted to hit him. To wipe his smug smile from his face. Her heart was racing and her body felt hot. Her skin was too tight and there wasn't enough air. Everything was wrong. Aki wanted to be away from here, from him, from everything. The strain of always being afraid or angry was wearing on her, and this - this sudden, unexpected attack and the betrayal that preceded it were too much. She shoved Mitsuhide and ran.

"Akiko!" He called after her, but did not pursue. 

Aki ran to her dressing room and slid the door shut behind her with a thud. She tore the ocean scroll from her wall and threw it on the ground. Pulled down her box of jewelry and swept her cosmetics from their shelf. A tantrum may be childish but it felt good to just let it out. She would clean up after herself later, but for now, she wanted to destroy it all. Every vestige of her life here.

She slammed her foot into the carved dresser, kicking it hard enough to hurt her toes. Aki kicked it again for good measure. When she did, something clicked. The center of one of the flowers at the base separated from the rest of the carving, slightly protruding. 

Akiko knelt, her anger leaking away as she pried the bit of wood out of the casing. It was a small, hollow tube. And inside, several scrawled notes on paper as thin as onion skin. 

'Use this to leave messages for us, hime. Nagai will rise again," read the first.

'Your silence is acknowledged,' read another.

'We are here, when you are ready.'

'Flower of Nagai, you must lead us,' read the last. 

Aki held them in her palm, a numb sensation of shock rippling through her. The Nagai rebels were trying to reach her, and she'd been too stupid to find the secret messages. Given up too easily. But here it was, the contact she'd been hoping for, under her nose this whole time. 

She burned the messages in candleflame and brushed the ashes under a floorboard. Just as she put it back, Yua and Mai knocked at the door. 

Akiko had a breathless moment of panic as she tried to shove the wooden tube back into place before they came in. "I-I'm not in the mood for company," she told them.

"We have to check on you," Yua replied. "Lord Akechi is worried."

"And so are we," Mai added.

With the dresser back to normal, she stood, pushed her hair out of her face and opened the door. "As you can see, I am fine. And I will clean up my mess." She stood blocking the doorway so they couldn't come in without pushing her aside.

Yua tried to peer past her, gaze narrowed. "That's not necessary, my lady. We can -"

"Let her do it if she wants to. Sometimes it helps to make a little mess and then set it to rights," Mai interrupted. She met Akiko's gaze. "We're here, when you need us. And . . . I'm glad you're ok. I'd be pretty upset if something happened to you on my first day."

Akiko couldn't help but let out a dry laugh at that. "Bad luck, right?"

"Very," Mai agreed.

"Well. I'm fine. Just a little pissed off. Give me a little time to myself, alright?" Akiko waited for their assent.

Both the maids gave it, and left. When they were gone, Akiko shut the door again and sagged to the floor. She needed to write back, but the message would need to be carefully drafted. She didn't know who her contact was. Certainly not one of her maids. Perhaps a cook? A gardener? Even one of the guards? Or it could be some game Akechi was playing. He'd shown her today that even his silence was a lie. 

"Long enough to see you struggling with your brush," he chuckled. 

Her cheeks heated and she looked down. "I'm getting better, I swear," she murmured, just as her sleeve caught the edge of her ink bowl, spilling it across the desktop. 

"I see that." His smile widened and he crossed the space between them to give her a hug. "It's just ink." Mitsuhide wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her tight against his chest. He could feel her relax in his embrace with a happy sigh.

"Did you come in just to brighten my morning," she asked.

"Something like that." Mitsuhide let go, and helped her up. "I'm afraid I need your help."

Linnea looked at him with a trace of wariness. They'd been married long enough for her to know when he was leaving out important bits. "With what?" His smile did not settle her suspicions.

"Chimaki is missing."

She blinked. "The fox? But he runs off all the time! And he always comes back."

Mitsuhide nodded, tilting his head. "That is true, sweet dandelion, but this time is different. Chimaki was in the garden, waiting for a treat. I went in to get something for him, and when I came out, he was gone."

"That is weird," she admitted. "Chimaki always waits for treats."  

"So, will you help me search for our little fox friend?" His eyes widened, pleadingly. 

Linnea could not refuse, especially not when he looked at her like that. "Alright. Let's go looking. Should we start in the garden?"

"That is a sound strategy." He smiled and took her arm in his. Together, they went out to the gardens. 

Early spring meant only a few hardy plants were in bloom. The rest held only bare branches and small, growing buds full of the promise of beautiful blossoms. There weren't many places for a small, white fox to hide. 

"Where did you see Chimaki?" She bent down to peer under the azalea bushes, pushing aside the naked, scraggly branches. 

"Over here." Mitsuhide pointed toward a bed of suisen, the white flowers with their golden yellow centers reminded Linnea of her lover, with his bright golden eyes and silky white hair. 

She studied the flower bed intently. "I can see his little paw prints here. Hm."

Mitsuhide nodded. "Yes, I noticed them as well. They look like they go this way." He gestured toward a gap at the bottom of the fence where the soil had washed away.

Linnea peered over the fence. She could clearly see the paw prints in the dirt beyond. "Help me over the fence," she called over her shoulder.

"Anything for my sweet dandelion." His smile widened as he bent down and took hold of her by her hips. He caressed her, running his hands over her hips, down her low belly, over her thighs, and around to give her cheeks a little, naughty pinch.

"Hey!" She giggled. "That isn't exactly helping."

Mitsuhide gave her an impish look. "I can think of a lot of things I could be doing that wouldn't be helping . . ."

"You better not! We have to make sure Chimaki is ok first." Linnea scrambled over the wall and lowered herself to the ground on the other side. Or at least, that was the intent. Her hands slipped at the last moment, and she fell, landing squarely on her rear in the dirt.

Her lover came over the wall with a breathtaking grace, his movements lithe and strong. He helped her to her feet. "I should have had you wait at the top so I could help you down." 

Linnea laughed, brushing the dirt off her clothes. "I can't expect you to catch me every time I fall."

"I'd like to though." He pressed a tender kiss to her temple. Mitsuhide sighed. 

She leaned into his touch, taking a moment to breathe deep. Then she pulled back, ready to continue with tracking their missing fox friend. "Ok. Do you see any more tracks?" Linnea peered about, determined to figure out where Chimaki ran off to.

Mitsuhide knelt down, investigating the brush with a well trained eye. "What do you think of this," he asked, gesturing to a bare berry bush. There, caught in the branches, was a bit of white fur. 

"Chimaki! That's got to belong to our fox!" Linnea carefully extracted the bit of fur, taking care not to catch on the branches. They were small and a bit sharp. She stared at it, turning the fur this way and that in the morning light. "Definitely Chimaki's fur."

"Oh? I didn't know you were an expert in fox fur identification," he teased, plucking the hair from her fingers. 

Linnea was about to retort when she noticed something behind the bush. "Is that . . . it kind of looks like one of Chimaki's treats." 

Mitsuhide leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "Mmm, a bit. But I think it's just a brown beetle. I can see the legs."

"You can?" She squinted, pushing the branches aside.

"Oh! Look there! Is that the little blue bow you gave the fox?" Mitsuhide pointed to a spot half hidden in the shadows of an evergreen tree. 

Linnea's attention snapped in that direction. "It looks like it!" She hurried around the berry bush, brow crinkled with worry.

Hanging from one of the low boughs, a thin blue silk strip of cloth dangled in the slight morning breeze. The ends fluttered, catching the light. She lifted it, checking the length for any clue about the missing fox. 

Mitsuhide peered over her shoulder. "It doesn't look torn."

"Maybe someone took it off Chimaki and left it here." Linnea straightened, tucking the ribbon into her pocket.

"Why would someone do that? And how?" Mitsuhide's usual smile faded.

Linnea shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe to get at you? Chimaki is smart but someone might have lured the fox with food or something." Her shoulders slumped. "We have got to find Chimaki."

"That's what we're doing. I'm sure Chimaki is fine. That fox is too smart to fall for simple tricks." Mitsuhide put a hand on her low back, rubbing small, comforting circles there. 

"You're right. It's just so strange. I feel like someone wanted us to follow." Linnea huffed. "If someone did something to Chimaki, I'll -"

Mitsuhide chuckled. "So fierce, my sweet dandelion."

Linnea gave him a frustrated look. "You aren't taking this seriously enough, Mitsou!"

"I promise you, I am taking it very seriously." His smile fell away. "I wouldn't have asked for your help if I did not."

She nodded after a moment, letting out a held breath. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just worried."

Something glimmered in the depths of his golden gaze. "Let's find our fox, and worry about what happened when we know more. Right now, we only know Chimaki came this way."

Linnea sighed again. "You're right. No sense getting worked up when we don't have all the facts. The ribbon might have just come loose."

He brushed the pad of his thumb along her jaw line. "You are so beautiful when you're passionate about something. But alas," his hand dropped away, "I cannot sweep you into my arms to carry you off for a day of lovemaking until we are sure our fox is safe."

She felt a frisson of regret etched in the warmth his fingertips left behind. "Another reason to find Chimaki quickly." Linnea felt heat stain her cheeks as she met Mitsuhide's gaze, and quickly looked away. "Mmm, so this way then?"

"Yes. Please, go first." Mitsuhide gestured for her to continue on. 

A little way past the evergreen, the ground was worn in a narrow track leading off into a thicket of trees. Linnea was fairly sure Chimaki must have followed it, though she couldn't find any handy footprints. It was just a feeling. Still, she paused to look around for any sign of the fox's passage. 

Mitsuhide knelt down, studying the ground. That was probably the most reasonable place to look for proof of a fox's passage, but Linnea felt her gaze drawn to the trees. That is why a slight gleam caught her eye.

She walked toward a branch heavy with spring buds. Hanging off one of them was the thinnest strip of silver-white hair. Linnea plucked it from the branch. She measured it with her eye, examining it. 

"What did you find there?" Mitsuhide glanced up.

"I don't know. It looks like a bit of hair." She met his gaze. "Your hair."

"Mine? Are you sure?" He raised a brow, questioning.

Linnea frowned. "I think so. It looks like the right length, the right shade. But I guess it could belong to someone else. Or -" Her eyes widened. "What if someone put it there to - to throw me off the scent?"

Mitsuhide's face underwent some strange ripple, his brows lifting before falling again, eyes widening and then narrowing, and his mouth quirking up at one side before he looked down. 

"What is it? Are you ok?" She took a step toward him. 

"I -" he coughed, "yes. I'm fine. Just a tickle in my throat, my sweet." When he looked up again, his expression was grim. "Are there any other signs?"

"Maybe?" She turned in a slow circle, peering carefully into the trees around them. "Do you see any tracks?"

Mitsuhide nodded. "Yes, but too many to make sense of. Someone has been here recently."

Linnea took a breath, a nervous energy suffusing her. Something was going on here. Something was off. She was about to turn and interrogate her beloved trickster when she spotted the roofline of some kind of building. "What is that?"

"I don't know. Maybe an old hunting cabin? Or a monk's retreat?" Mitsuhide closed the distance between them to stand beside her. He squinted, looking through the trees. "I think this track leads that way." 

"I think so too," she whispered back.

Mitsuhide leaned close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Why are you whispering?"

Linnea squirmed, her skin prickling with feel of breath on her ear and neck. "I don't know. What if someone hears us?"

"I'm sure they already have, if there is anyone there. But we can whisper like this, if you like." He kissed the tip of her ear, and gave it the lightest nip.

"That is so, so distracting," she breathed. Then shook her head. "No, not going to think about that. Let's go."

Mitsuhide chuckled. "Right behind you."

The two of them made their way between the trees, following the worn track. Bent grass and bits of brush confirmed someone had been this way recently. Maybe even a little, mischievous fox. 

Linnea and Mitsuhide paused outside the little cabin. It was clear that a warm fire burned within. An amber light shone from the slight gap between the door and the wall. It was open just enough to slide a hand or foot inside. Just enough for a little fox too. 

"Hello," she called. "Is someone home?" 

"Chimaki," Mitsuhide called. "Come out come out!"

No one replied, and the fox did not appear. Linnea got closer to the door, Mitsuhide right on her heels. 

"Is anyone there? I'm - I'm coming in!" She pushed the door open slowly, hoping that someone would respond. No one did, so she stepped over the threshold. 

The inside was nice and warm, and smelled of woodsmoke and herbs. A small fire burned merrily in a well-tended irori. A futon lay near the hearth, heavy blankets dusted with early blooming flowers. And there, sitting in a shaft of light from the now open door, was a small, white fox. 

"Chimaki!" Linnea excitedly dropped to her knees beside the fox. "You're ok!" That was when she noticed the slim, purple cord around its neck, and the glittering objects half hidden in the fox's fur. "What is this?"

Mitsuhide stepped inside behind her, a wide, warm smile on his face. 

Linnea tugged the cord loose, and let it fall into her hand. Attached to the cord was a pair of delicate earrings. Thin petals of gold gleamed in the firelight, setting off the glimmer of citrine and amber in the middle. They looked like . . . "Dandelions?"

"For my sweet dandelion," he agreed. 

"You mean -" she paused, swallowing, "you set up this whole thing? Chimaki missing, the clues, all of this, just to surprise me with these earrings?"

Mitsuhide arched a brow. "Was it not a fun surprise?"

Linnea straightened, her expression unreadable.

"You looked so worried," he teased.

"And you knew the whole time nothing was wrong." She poked him in the arm. "You're so mean!"

"Mean?" Mitsuhide's eyes gave the gems in her jewelry a run for the most shimmer and gleam. "You think that was me being mean?" He set his palm against her cheek, rough skin leaving a tingle behind and he caressed her face, then took hold of her chin. "I can show you what mean looks like."

Chimaki gave a happy yip, and sprinted out the door. 

That was the last thing Linnea was aware of before Mitsuhide's lips and tongue and teeth and hands became her whole world. His mouth was on hers, his insistent tongue pressing at her lips until they parted. His hands stroked her hip, her thighs, her breasts. He teased her with the brutal efficiency of an attentive lover. When he finally pulled back, she was breathless and flushed, and her body felt electric.

Mitsuhide took the earrings from Linnea's hand, and put them in for her. His touch was so gentle, and it left little eddies of pleasure on her bare skin. He smiled, taking in her fazed expression and mussed clothes. "Perfect."

"P-perfect?" She licked her lips, tender from his sudden passion. Linnea blinked. "Where are you going?"

"Me? I'm being mean," Mitsuhide laughed, his voice low and a little hoarse. "But cruelty is so difficult. A blade that cuts both ways." He took a step toward the door. 

"Mitsou!" She gave him a pleading look. 

His smile was positively wicked. "Yes?"

Linnea gave up on words. He would just turn them around on her to tease more. Instead, she closed the small distance to him and slid an arm around his shoulder. Her fingers tangled in his hair as she pulled his face to hers for another kiss. "You promised me a whole day of lovemaking, remember?"

"Hm?" She ducked her head, embarrassed by the compliment. "I don't know why you'd say that. I'm just trying to keep my head up no matter what happens."

"That's admirable." He grinned. "You were practically kidnapped by a man even the nobles get nervous around, handed enormous responsibility, and then commandeered for an inedible and tense meal with a prince most people consider a little insane."

She laughed. "You know, I think he might be just a little crazy, but he's nice too. He went through a lot of trouble for me."

Cyran nodded. "He doesn't go through all that trouble for just anyone." Only his playthings, he added mentally. Clavis loved to needle and toy with people that reacted amusingly. The soldier wasn't sure how he felt about the Belle being in that group. She was very sweet and naive. 

As they turned down her hall, Cyran spotted a crowd in front of her door. Several of the palace staff, and . . . "Sariel!" 

The Belle looked at him, blinking her wide, amber eyes. "The minister?"

Cyran turned them to the left and down a narrower hallway. "He, um, might be a little upset. I tipped a shelf onto him this morning during your getaway."

"That was the crashing sound," she gave a scandalized laugh. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

"You never could," he grinned. "How 'bout I find some less dangerous spot to -"

"There you are." A confident, mellow voice interrupted, and Cyran looked up to find himself almost eye to eye with the first prince. Jin's garnet gaze flicked to the Belle and back to the soldier. "Sariel said the you were kidnapped by a demon."

Emma shook her head ruefully. "Just Prince Clavis."

"I thought it might be something like that." Jin's eyes traveled over her, appreciating the girl's 'assets'. 

Cyran felt an irrational annoyance at this, but he'd been around nobles and royals long enough to know how to keep his feelings well concealed. "I was just escorting my lady to the library," he told the prince.

"The library, eh? Why don't you come with me instead?" Jin held out a hand, beckoning her over.

Emma looked at him, considering. "Will I have a chance to talk with you about what you'd do as King?" 

"Sure." Jin smiled broadly. "You can ask me whatever you want. I'll even answer, most of the time." 

She turned to Cyran. "This is probably better than hiding out, waiting for Sariel to find me. I guess I'll see you later?"

The soldier frowned. He knew the first prince often visited the tavern, and that was surely where he was headed now. He and Clavis even accompanied Jin sometimes. But it wasn't the kind of place you took a girl like Emma. Full of drunk men and barmaids. "You aren't taking her out drinking, right, Prince Jin?"

"She doesn't have to drink with me. I'll get her some milk or something." Jin smirked as his hand enclosed hers.

"Hey! You both can ask me, you know? I'm standing right here." Emma pulled her hand away from Jin, then remembered this was a prince. "Oh, I - I mean, Prince Jin, you, ah, are royalty so obviously. Whatever you want to do."

Jin chuckled. "No need to be nervous around me. And you're right, I can ask you. So. Do you want to have a drink with me at a tavern?"

"Why not a cafe instead of a tavern," Cyran interjected. 

Jin's gaze was sharp. "I can't get a good drink at a cafe. Besides, a tavern is a fine place for a lady. There are plenty of them there."

Cyran figured that was enough protest. But if she was going, he was coming with her. After all, Clavis would want him to keep an eye on her. "If you want to go, my lady, I'll accompany you. If that's alright?"

Emma nodded. "I appreciate it, Cyran. It'll be nice having a friendly face nearby."

"Hey! My face is friendly," Jin protested. 

The Belle gave him a polite smile in response. 

The first prince tugged a lollipop out of his pocket and handed it to her. "See? I wouldn't share my sweets if I wasn't."

Emma giggled, accepting the proffered treat. "That's true."

The three of them left the palace by a servant's door, and took a coach into town. It was afternoon when they arrived, and the townspeople were out and about, shopping and enjoying a midday meal. 

Several ladies gave Jin a wave as they passed. He winked at a few, waved back to others. He wasn't an uncommon sight in this part of town. 

"You must come here a lot," she murmured. "You have so many friends!"

Cyran kept his snarky comments to himself as Jin answered. "I do! It's one of my favorite places to kick back. You know, I lived as a commoner for awhile."

Emma's eyes narrowed. "You did?"

"You don't know the story?" The prince looked a little surprised.

"Something with Clause 99? I think Sariel told me a little." She gave a little shrug. "You must not have liked it much."

Jin frowned. "I liked being common just fine. But my mother -" He took a breath, smiled again. "I'll tell you the whole sad story, but I need a drink first."

Cyran knew the tale already, of course. How Jin demanded that no other common girl suffer as his mother had, that the next Belle be protected from the royal beasts. Personally, he didn't think something in a contract was going to stop a prince if he really wanted to keep a Belle around, but that kind of thing was above his paygrade. 

Good as his word, Jin gave Emma the whole tale over a bottle of whiskey. How his mother and the king fell in love. The way politics and the nobility drove a wedge between them. And then the ignoble end of his mother, alone and destitute. 

For her part, Emma looked properly horrified. "I had no idea! That's terrible."

"Well, now you know why getting involved with royalty is a bad idea. I hope you'll keep that in mind while you're living at the palace." Jin ruffled her hair. "Then you can just go home when it's all over."

She nodded. "That's the plan. I'm going to work hard and do my best as the - the -" Emma glanced around, realized her title probably wasn't appropriate. "Erm, at my job, yeah. And then I'm going back to the bookstore."

"That's the spirit," Jin cheered. 

Cyran agreed, but he didn't think it would be so easy. Returning to her life would be complicated by all the people she would meet at the palace. Those who might take notice of her, and wonder how to use her as a pawn in their political scheming. Even if they didn't know her purpose, anyone could see she had the attention of the royal family. It would be no easy thing to escape their long reach. 

"I still don't understand this part of Rhodolitian custom," he admitted. 

"Oh! I meant to ask where you were from. I noticed you have a slight accent," Emma told him. "I hope that's ok to ask?"

"Sure it is, my lady." Cyran grinned at her. "I'm from Obsidian." He watched her face for the telltale disgust but saw only curiosity.

Emma's brows lifted. "Wow! I have so many questions! What is it like there? How did you get here? Do you ever get homesick? Is it true that -"

Jin chuckled. "You need to take a breath and let the man answer."

Cyran felt a surprising rush of relief. He'd been pretty sure she would like him a lot less once she knew what he was. Obsidianite. The enemy at the gate. The cause of so much suffering and death. "Let's see. It's a lot stricter than here, that's for sure. And, Prince Clavis converted me. I do get homesick from time to time, even though I like living in Rhodolite. That was all the questions, right?" 

Her cheeks heated with embarrassment. "Yeah. Sorry. I've just never had a chance to talk to someone that lived there."

"Hey, I'm still a prince. And you haven't asked me what I would do as King yet," Jin teased, pretending to pout over her shift in attention.

Emma's cheeks went even hotter. "I wasn't ignoring you, I swear! Ah, so, Prince Jin, what would you do if you became King?" She cleared her throat, trying to refocus herself. 

Jin's smile was wide and dangerous. "First things first, I'd take every pretty girl for a dance." He took her hand and stood up, pulling her along with him. There were a few musicians playing in one corner of the tavern. When they saw the prince stand with a lady at hand, they switched from a soft folk tune to a skirling melody meant for dancing. 

"H-hey," she protested. "I don't really kn-know how to do this."

"It's fine," the prince assured her. "Just follow my lead." Jin pulled her out to a small, cleared space near the musicians.

Cyran watched the prince spin her around and dip her, dancing in a way far different from the formal ballroom dance expected of royalty. But then, Jin was like that. He held onto the qualities he perceived as common in defiance of his birth and position. Cyran felt certain there was a deep resentment in him. Nothing like the vibes he picked up from Luke, but still there. Smoldering at the prince's core. He hoped Emma was as perceptive. Otherwise, she'd get hurt. 

"Is that the - the new girl?" Leon took a chair opposite Cyran. 

The soldier cursed himself for not being more aware of his surroundings. He hadn't noticed the fourth prince approach. "Yep. Are you surprised?"

Leon chuckled. "A little? She doesn't seem like his type."

"Every girl is his type." Cyran grinned. "Looks like you needed a break today too." He glanced around for Hugo, but didn't spot him. "On your own?"

"Yeah. I gave Hugo the afternoon off." Leon signaled a bar maid and ordered a drink. "What are you doing here?"

There wasn't a good answer to that question. "Prince Clavis asked me to keep an eye on her." Half truths, always the best response. Just enough fact to cover if someone poked their nose in, and just enough wiggle room to dodge any consequence. 

Leon's brows drew down. "What's his interest in her?"

"Gentlemanly." Cyran grinned.

"Somehow, that answer worries me more," Leon muttered. His drink arrived, along with the two dancers returning to the table.

Jin plonked down in his seat and took a drink. 

Emma beamed. "That was fun! I didn't think I would like it, but you're a really good dancer, Prince Jin."

He smirked. "I better be. I've had plenty of practice." Jin turned to Leon. "You wrap up the officer recognition already?"

Leon nodded. "I did. All the planning is complete and the ceremony is scheduled for tomorrow. I left my sergeants with instructions."

"Good man," Jin took another drink.

Emma turned to Cyran while the princes chatted. "Is dancing very different in Obsidian than here?"

"Not really. We have our own folk dances, and those can be different from village to village. But isn't all dancing pretty much the same?" He shrugged.

"I wonder. I mean, at the end of the day, it's just moving in time to the music, right? But somehow, every time I watch people dance, it seems new to me and exciting." Emma practically had stars in her eyes. "I bet it feels like that when you dance too. Like every time is unique and special."

Cyran realized she wanted to dance more. He wasn't sure she even realized that's what she wanted, but he could hear the yearning and excitement in her voice. He stood up and held out a hand. "Want me to show you what I know?"

Emma glanced at the princes and then back at the soldier, clearly unsure what was courteous. Thankfully Leon noticed and gestured for the two of them to go on. Jin nodded as well, a tacit approval. "Let's!"

The soldier hoped he wasn't too rusty. His work left him little free time, much less time for merrymaking. He led her out to the small dance floor, and then took a moment to ask the musicians if they knew a song he remembered. He had to hum it for them, but when he did, they nodded and struck up the tune. Close enough, anyway.

"Is this an Obsidianite song," Emma asked in a near-whisper. Her breath tickled his ear and sent a strange charge through him.

"It is. But one popular enough that Rhodolite has its own version." Cyran positioned her hands on him. "Now, this dance is pretty easy. You're going to step left and left. Yeah. Like that." He guided her through the motions until they reached the second verse. "Now we repeat the same thing again, but to the right."

Emma nodded. "I think I've got it. Like this?" She mirrored the steps pretty well, letting Cyran's motions guide her. 

"You're pretty good at this," he teased. "Are you sure you haven't danced before today?"

She laughed and looked away. Not quick enough to hide the happiness in her eyes or the heat in her cheeks. Cyran couldn't help but think she was really pretty when she smiled like that. Beautiful, even. He could believe she'd caught Jin's eye. And perhaps Clavis' too.

"Scum!" The angry shout caught everyone's attention, and an entire tavern's worth of eyes turned toward a lean man in soldier's garb. The uniform was mussed, and it was clear he'd been drinking heavily. His greying hair stuck up at odd angles, blood-shot eyes peered out beneath thick eyebrows, and his lips were speckled with beer foam and spit. 

Cyran stopped dancing and pulled the Belle behind him. 

"You need to step back, man," one of the other tavern patrons exclaimed. 

The man took another stumbling step forward. "Damn scum! You Obsidian bastards, you think you can- can come in here and kill us. Th-then just drink and dance! Like it was nothing?!" He jabbed a finger in Cyran's direction. "Shoulda killed you back then. And all your kind."

Now all the eyes moved to Cyran, some speculative, others hostile. The soldier felt a weight in his chest, one he thought he'd done away with years ago. Guilt, shame, disgust, and other emotions he had no name swamped his heart like a deep forest pool with dark, clouded waters.

Leon moved before anyone else could. "Hey. You need to sit down and have a glass of water." He held out a helping hand to the drunk.

Jin gestured to Cyran, a subtle recommendation to go. His words were for the drunk. "That's right, sit down and have some water before you do something you'll regret in the morning."

The drunk ignored the princes' very good advice. "M-my only regret's not killing more Obsidianites. But you're here an' I'm here now." He lunged toward Cyran, a clumsy attack with a blunt work knife. 

Cyran moved, his body acting out of training and habit before his mind caught up. He stepped between the drunk and the princes. His hand darted out, gripping the drunk's knife hand. There was a sudden, sickening crack of breaking bones. The knife fell to the floor. "Can't help where I was born but I can help how I act now that I'm here. I'm not the violent idiot threatening people with knives."

There was a howl of pain a moment later, as the broken bones communicated their distress to the inebriated brain. "M-my hand!"

The tavern regulars seemed unsure how to react. There was a general, unpleasant muttering all around. 

"Get back to the palace, and take the girl," Jin ordered. "We'll take care of this guy."

Leon was already helping the drunk to a chair, and a barmaid was bringing water. The guy was going to need more than good hydration for his hand, but that wasn't Cyran's problem. He had his orders.

"Let's go, my lady. Sorry for the sour end to our dance." Cyran took her arm and led her out the back door through the tavern kitchens. 

"Does this kind of thing happen often?" Emma's eyes were wide, her lips pale, but her voice didn't shake. 

Cyran gave a bitter laugh. "Not as often as it used to. It's fine. People have a right to be angry. I just wish they'd point it in the right direction. I," he trailed off without finishing his thought. He wasn't sure what to say. That he'd chosen Rhodolite when it counted. Chosen life and people and humanity. That he loved this place and his home in equal measure. That he wanted to make up for the harm he caused so many years ago. 

She seemed to understand what he left unsaid, or at least, understood his mood. Emma leaned into him for a moment, her head resting on his shoulder, her fingers tightening on his. "It isn't your fault. Don't carry their hate for them." 

"You don't even know what happened, what I have or haven't done," he replied, surprised. 

Emma was quiet for a long moment, then, "That's true, I don't. But I can say in the time I've known you, you strike me as a kind man. I don't believe you would ever want to hurt someone. Even at the tavern, you did what was needed to stop that drunk from hurting you or someone else. That's it. If you hadn't stepped in, he might have gotten killed or stabbed somebody, or both!"

Cyran grimaced. "I didn't mean to break his hand though. I just wanted him to drop the knife."

"See? And you even feel bad about it." She smiled up at him. "Look, I'm the Belle and supposedly I can see into the hearts of men, or something." She laughed softly. "Either way, I think I'm a pretty good judge of character. So trust me when I say, you aren't a bad man, no matter where you were born or what you did there to - to get here." 

Her words struck a chord in him. Was he justified? Cyran still didn't know, not even after ten years making up for it. "You're really naive," he sighed, "but kind. Thank you for that."

Emma shook her head. "But you still don't believe it." There was a firmness in her expression, a surprising certainty and solidity he wouldn't have expected. "Maybe one day you will though."

"If you say so," he grinned. "How 'bout we get some ice cream before we head back. End this outing on a happier note."

"Do you think Hideyoshi will come back?" Her question didn't seem to surprise Mitsuhide.

He shrugged. "I would be more surprised if he didn't. Why?"

Akiko only smiled in reply. If he wanted to play games, she had her own strategy. 

Mitsuhide chuckled and shook his head. "Here. Sit." Then he took out the estate's records. There were more records than she expected for an estate this size, but she quickly realized these were also reports and ledgers from other territories. Several castles given to him by the Oda and those from his family. 

"Is this everything," she asked, feigning indifference despite her curiosity.

"Everything you need to know about." 

There were secrets in his eyes, Akiko thought. She found herself wanting to know them. To understand this strange man that was now her husband. "I can't help you manage your estates if you don't tell me everything," she said after a long moment of quiet. 

Mitsuhide's smile fell for a heartbeat before sliding back into place. "Oh? And here I thought you didn't want to get intimate with me. But if you're interested . . ." He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close. 

"What? N-no! I meant the - the paperwork!" Akiko pulled away, her cheeks heating. She hated that he could tease her like this. Hated the way she reacted to it. 

"You wound me," he sighed theatrically. "But of course, I respect your wishes. So, to the ledgers?" He gestured toward the pile of papers and scrolls. 

The next few hours were a lesson in humility for Akiko. She knew how to run Nagai, or thought she had. Trying to wrap her head around the various needs of multiple places across the Oda territories was something else entirely. Grudgingly, she found new respect for Akechi as he explained the reports, the history and context for each. He knew his people. He knew his lands. Most surprisingly of all, she could tell he cared for them.

"And that is why, as you see by the annual reports here, that grain production will increase this year. It's in recovery," Mitsuhide was saying, gesturing at a column of numbers representing barley exports.

Akiko nodded, pointing at another column, her hand brushing against his as she did so. The brief contact sent a warmth coursing up her arm. "Th-these, this is the number of residents?" It showed a precipitous drop from the year prior. 

"An illness." Mitsuhide's gaze darkened for a moment. "Most of the old and the very young did not survive." 

She looked at the other figures on the page, representing the cost of medicine, travel for a doctor and their assistants. The whole story played out for her there in the dry, sterile numbers. It was clear Akechi had tried to save his people. Just as her own father would have, just as she would have. 

Mitsuhide's care for his vassals shouldn't have surprised her, but it did. She wanted to view the Oda as a monolith of all that was wrong in the Sengoku. The fighting and senseless bloodshed, the famines and disease. But the longer she was here with them, the more she realized the Oda were just like her people. And Akechi . . . he was a man. Only that. 

A man that was sitting close enough now that she could feel the heat of his leg where it almost brushed hers. His hand lay only a fingersbreadth from her own. His shoulder was so close they would be touching if she took a deep breath. Every point of near contact buzzed under her skin, drawing her attention and making her heart trip in its usually steady rhythm. 

Akiko wanted to pull away. And she didn't. There was something about him that drew her in. His enigmatic smile, perhaps? Or the trace of gentleness she glimpsed in his eyes sometimes, in unguarded moments. 

"You look as if you want to be kissed," he laughed and leaned closer. All those parts almost-touching made contact, and that buzzing turned into a bolt that shot from thigh and shoulder and hand straight to her chest, bursting behind her eyelids in a blink of white, blistering light. 

"I don't," she choked, and nearly fell trying to back away. She hated Mitsuhide. Hated him. Her body hated him too. This feeling, now receding, was just from - her mind searched for an acceptable explanation. Surprise! Yes! Pure shock at inappropriate contact. That was it. 

Mitsuhide's smile was enigmatic, and the softness in his eyes disappeared behind a glossy-gold shutter. "I don't often misread people." He didn't move toward her, only sat, watching. 

Akiko stood and straightened herself. Her face was burning hot, and her breath felt labored, as if she'd been running. "Well. You did."

"Then allow me to apologize over lunch." He looked past her at the doorway, and to Akiko's eternal mortification, Kyubei entered with a tray of food. How much did he witness, she wondered. 

Kyubei's smile was anything but enigmatic. Wide and amused, his dark eyes sparkling. "I hope I'm not interrupting."  He set the tray down as Mitsuhide shifted the papers out of the way.

"I'm not hungry," she said, the words coming almost automatically. 

Mitsuhide raised a brow. "You missed most of breakfast, sparred with a warlord, and spent the last several hours reading ledgers. Are you sure?"

Akiko's planned denial was interrupted before she began by a growl from her belly. Dammit! But the food smelled so good and she really had done a lot today on very little. "I . . . fine. I'll eat with you."

Mitsuhide's expression made her regret giving him this little victory. She told herself it was all part of her plan. 

Kyubei left, promising to return later. 

Akiko watched him leave, and then sat down again beside Mitsuhide. She felt awkward now, sitting so close. But there was no graceful way out, and if she couldn't get out, there was only through. She sipped at the clear broth soup, enjoying the taste of ginger and pickled mushrooms. Something else as well, some peppery spice. 

"Is it good?" Mitsuhide was watching her eat, his gaze narrowed. 

"Yes? It's from your kitchen." She gestured to the bowl in front of him. "You can try it yourself."

He nodded. "I could." 

Akiko gave an exasperated sigh. "You don't have to be obtuse all the time."

"Me? Obtuse?" Mitsuhide gave a soft laugh. "I answer all your questions."

"Yeah, with questions of your own. Or evasions." She gestured to the food. "Even in little things, like why you're asking me if your soup is any good. Can't you give one straight answer?"

He shook his head. "Probably not. But here, I'll explain." Mitsuhide took a bite of poached fish, chewed, swallowed. "Now, I've eaten a bite of fish. My stomach is fuller. That's all. The flavor, the taste of it . . . I couldn't tell you."

"So, what, everything tastes the same to you?" Akiko couldn't help but be curious. How could someone not be able to tell if food was sweet or salty or bitter?

"Not exactly. I can tell foods apart. I just have no ability or desire to judge the quality. I've been this way since I was young." Mitsuhide shrugged. 

Akiko wasn't sure if she believed him. This could be another elaborate setup to a joke he intended to play on her. But if it was true . . . she couldn't help but think about the poisoned apple slices she kept hidden. "Were you born with this?"

He shrugged again. "I think I enjoyed food normally as a child. I remember having sweets, sneaking sips of wine. But not for a very long time."

"If you don't care how food tastes, then what kinds of food do you prefer?" She finished her soup as she waited for an answer.

"Efficient ones. Eating takes up so much time. Time that could be spent studying, planning, training." Mitsuhide looked at the plates and bowls on the tray. "Just think how much time we've already spent and you still have several dishes to eat."

Akiko felt a little defensive. She'd never considered meals a waste of time. Eating with her brother and their vassal, Morihide. Or sometimes meals with her father. "This is a waste of time for you? Then why invite me?"

Mitsuhide reached over, drawing his fingertips along her jawline to rest at her chin. He turned her face slightly to meet his gaze. "A meal with my lovely wife is never a waste of my time."

"Stop teasing me. It's not funny." Akiko glared at him until his hand dropped from her face. 

"You're adorable when you are angry." He grinned. 

She decided discretion was the better part of valor in this fight, and focused on eating. Nevermind the odd tension in her chest or the warmth on her skin. He didn't mean any of his compliments. 

They ate in companionable silence until the food was gone and only empty dishes sat on the tray. Kyubei came to take the dishes as promised. His prying eyes seemed to see right into Aki's head, where her emotions boiled in a confusing stew of opposing thoughts. 

"I see lunch went well," he grinned at his lord. "Something sweet to finish?" 

Mitsuhide's answering smile was wicked. "I have something sweet already. Akiko?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine. If we're done here, can I go?"

Her husband seemed to consider the question carefully. "I suppose. Is there something you're rushing to do?"

"No." 

"Then let's take a walk in the garden together. I've been told movement aids the digestion." Mitsuhide stood and held out his hand. 

Aki inspected it the way one might look at a stray dog. 

"Take my hand, wife." He held it out for her, waiting.

She did as he asked, though another surrender in such a short period stung her pride. Today seemed to be a day of losing battles. First, to her own temper with Hideyoshi, and now giving in to Mitsuhide's requests. It bothered her, but Akiko told herself this was all part of the plan. Put the Oda at ease while plotting a masterful escape. Not that she'd made much progress there. She was as trapped in this estate today as the first day they brought her here. 

Mitsuhide's fingers twined with hers as he helped her up. His fingertips were rough with callouses, his palms broad and warm. Her own hand looked small in his grasp, vulnerable and soft. It made her want to pull away again, but she swallowed the urge and ignored the racing beat of her heart.

The garden was beautiful. The sun cast dappled light on the ground beneath the trees, and gave the flowers a golden tone where it graced their delicate petals. Akiko had a hard time appreciating any of it though. Not with Mitsuhide walking beside her. His thumb caressed the back of her hand in a familiar way, as if he were her husband in truth and not simply a necessary fiction.

"Why are you doing this," she asked suddenly, pulling him to a stop beside a rhododendron bush. 

"Do I need a reason," he countered.

"There you go again, answering my questions with questions," Aki huffed. 

Mitsuhide's smile widened. "Because newlyweds spend time together."

Akiko frowned fiercely. "No one is watching us but your servants. And they know the truth already."

"Only my servants?" He raised one brow. "Surely you're smarter than that."

Spies then. He was concerned about spies. That made more sense than jealousy or affection or whatever she'd considered in the roiling confusion of her thoughts. "Just more playacting."

"Are you disappointed?" Mitsuhide leaned down, a gesture that from a distance would seem affectionate. But she was close enough to see the mockery in his expression.

"Of course not. I just want to know what you're up to, where I am concerned." She paused. "Don't you think we've spent enough time together for one day? Even if we're being watched, they can't expect you have nothing better to do."

Mitsuhide picked a rhododendron blossom and tucked it into her hair. It seemed he didn't plan to reply, but after leading her forward a few steps, he spoke again. "Someone informed Nobunaga about our lack of closeness. And he sent Hideyoshi. I will ferret out the source of that information, but until I do, we must act as a married couple."

"What exactly do you mean by that," Aki replied, alarmed. Surely he didn't mean . . . she swallowed.

He seemed to pick up on the direction of her thoughts. "No, I won't ask you to sleep in my room. Not yet, at any rate. But if Nobunaga feels this gambit isn't a sure enough route to pacify Nagai, he will try something else. Your land will face further hardship and you, my dear, are likely to end up in a dungeon Or dead.."

"I'm not afraid. Lock me up. Torture me. I don't care." She hoped the words were true even as they spilled out. 

Mitsuhide laughed softly. "You almost sound as if you would prefer that. But no. I have been tasked with you, and I will not fail. Besides, even if you value yourself so little, surely you would rather not inflict more suffering on your people?"

He was right, and Aki knew it. She took a deep breath, tried to steady herself. "I would never want that. It's just . . ." She looked at him, feeling small and helpless in the moment, "This is so hard. Being here." 

He nodded, looking out at the garden rather than at her. "I can imagine it is. The comfort and ease of your days only increases your distress. But you already knew that the Oda are evil. I am one of them, and I am considered one of the worst. The left hand of the devil king. Why should I care if you are unhappy?"

"You shouldn't." She slumped, wanting suddenly to just be in bed. Sleeping. Not thinking or feeling or anything. 

Mitsuhide gave her hand a squeeze. "Now, stop pouting and smile for our unseen watchers. You have your duty to think of, and I have mine." 

Akiko nodded, feeling oddly encouraged. She squared her shoulders and gave him a bright smile that did not reach her steel-grey eyes. Those remained troubled. "We should eat together more often. This day has been special."

On the one hand, she felt like a character in one of her books. An ordinary girl, swept off her feet and whisked away to the palace for . . . well, certainly not romance, but adventure, maybe? On the other, she was one of a handful of people that knew the king was dead, and the future of all Rhodolite rested on her next decision. The pressure felt suffocating, and as soon as she thought about it, she pushed it to the back of her mind.

First things first - 

The door slammed open and a smile as dazzling as the sun greeted her. "Not dressed yet? How disappointing! How are you going to have breakfast with the most eligible, attractive, and beloved prince of Rhodolite?"

Emma blinked owlishly from where she sat in her bed. She remembered this one. "Prince Clavis? What are you doing in my room?"

He laughed, his smile growing even wider. "Why, welcoming you to the palace of course! With a delicious homemade breakfast, and my cheerful company." His gaze drifted over her pajama-clad form, legs still tangled in the bed sheets. "I'll give you a moment to prepare." Clavis leaned against the doorframe, eyes wandering over the room's decor.

"Ummm. I - I thought the other one, the guy with glasses, was going to show me around today?" 

"Nope. Change of plans. But you should hurry." He glanced down the hall and back at her.

Emma blinked. Was this normal prince behavior? She wasn't sure. Either way, "I'll dress as fast as I can, but you need to step out first. I can't get up with you here."

Clavis focused on her again, his intentions inscrutable. "Oh, don't worry. I'm a gentleman."

"Ok . . ." She stared back at him, nonplussed. There was no way she was getting out of bed with him standing right there. It wasn't proper. Nothing about this was, in fact. Even Rio never showed up unannounced while she was in her bedclothes. "Can you be a gentleman in the hallway?"

He blinked, but his smile never faltered. "Oh! Are you shy? There's no need to be shy around me. As I said -"

"Would you stop torturing the girl and just let her dress in peace?" A familiar voice floated in from the hall. A flash of red hair, the hem of a soldier's tabard. 

Clavis chuckled. "Alright. You can be shy for today. But next time, you are permitted to jump out of bed and confess your love for me." He stepped out of the room, just as Cyran stepped into the doorway.

"Sorry about that, my lady. I'll just close this for you." He gave a little bow and shut the door. Outside, she could hear him say more, but his voice was pitched too low to make out the words. 

Half worried Clavis would pop back in any moment, Emma dressed in a flurry of hurried motions, throwing on a simple gown and tying her hair back in a messy bun. It was not a palace-ready look, but speed was of the essence. Just as she pulled the ends of her hair ribbon tight, the door swung open again. 

"There you are!" Clavis beamed. "Now hurry!" He closed the distance between them and took her by the arm. Out in the hall, there was a shuffling sound and a sudden crash, like one of the shelves or tables fell over. "Let's go out the window. That'll be more fun!"

"More . . . what?" Emma had time to gasp, before the prince was unlocking her shutters.

He pulled her out with him, not that she was trying to fight it. She honestly had no idea what was going on. Behind them, she heard Cyran apologizing, and another crash. Then she and Clavis were moving quickly through one of the palace gardens. 

"Where are w-we going?" Emma was breathless from the sudden exertion. She was not particularly a morning person and this wasn't how she liked to spend the early hours. Sitting with a book and a cup of something warm was more her style. 

Prince Clavis grinned at her, looking purely amused. "We are making a clean getaway. Don't worry. I'll take good care of you!"

She had no idea how to respond to that. This prince was clearly a maniac, though he didn't seem particularly dangerous. Emma determined to slip away from him at the first opportunity. Unfortunately, she had no idea when that might arise. Surely someone in the palace would notice what was happening and give her polite cover to escape. 

If there was such a person, they didn't encounter them. Clavis led her from one garden path to another until she was fairly sure they had crossed through every garden and green space there, and maybe twice. They slowed down and came to a stop in front of a lovely pavilion. Rosed grew in vining profusion around the supports and roof, blossoms dangling in the warm morning light. 

The sight would have been breathtaking, if not for Emma's underlying anxiety. There was a table set out under the pavilion, with several silver domed dishes. 

Clavis let go of her arm to give her an elaborate, courtly bow. "Breakfast."

Emma blinked. "We jumped out my window and ran through the garden to -"

"Work up an appetite." He pulled out a chair for her and gestured for Emma to sit. 

"Right." She decided not to ask. Clearly, Clavis wasn't the kind of prince to give a girl straight answers. A quick look around told her they were alone out here. No nearby servants or nobles. Just more flowers and greenery. 

Prince Clavis began removing the lids from the dishes on the table. He gave a flourish with one of the serving spoons. "What would you like to try first?"

Instead of the ordinary pastries, eggs, fruit, and porridge, there were . . . things. Emma had no other word to describe them. Violently colored, strangely shaped things. A sort of purple colored snail-shaped thing sat in a puddle of green-grey sauce. A wobbly pudding in virulent green stared out at her from bulging eyes that may, or may not have been plumped raisins. There was a sad looking brown loaf that could have been bread, if not for the swollen bubbles along its top, and the high pitched whine it made when Clavis tapped it with a spoon. Bread did not whistle. 

"Let's see. I'd recommend this one. It's a sort of breakfast soup. The eggs were imported from Jade. Lizard eggs! I've heard it tastes like nothing you've ever eaten before." Clavis pointed excitedly at a brackish mixture of orange-yellow and white goo. 

"I, umm, I don't really eat much in the morning?" Emma tried to duck out of this as gracefully as possible. "Perhaps just some tea or coffee," she added hopefully.

Clavis laughed again, sounding a little unhinged. "I have an amazing tea! Well, it's not exactly tea but it was made from leaves." He pulled out a pot of blue-tinged milky-textured liquid. It was steaming and smelled floral. 

She really didn't want any but was on the verge of accepting since that would be the least offensive of the dishes before her. But then, out of nowhere, a hero arrived.

"My lady! There you two are." The red-headed soldier held a silver serving platter in one hand, with a delicate porcelain cup and teapot, and a plate with toast and jam. He was standing half in a flower bed, and looked as if he'd run the whole way here.

"Cyran, I didn't ask you to bring boring food. You were supposed to play decoy." Clavis sounded a bit petulant, though he was still grinning as he complained. "Throw that out and come sit with us."

The soldier ignored his prince completely. "Here you are, my lady. Tea and toast. I wasn't sure what jam you preferred. I hope strawberry is alright?"

Emma smiled up at him with relief. "Oh, thank you! This is - it's perfect." She took the tea and toast with a sense of immense gratitude. 

Clavis hefted a scoop of the whistling loaf onto a plate and set it in front of her, right beside the toast. With such a close comparison, it was evident to Emma that the bubbling brown loaf substance was definitely not bread. The texture was completely wrong, spongy and grainy on the inside. 

"This is a special pastry made out of ground seeds and roots," Clavis told her. "I didn't have a recipe for it but I've tasted something similar once in Benitoite. They import it." 

"I'll . . . try it," she conceded. "Since you made it. I didn't realize princes cooked." She sipped the tea Cyran brought. It was perfect. Just the right temperature with no burnt flavor, and he'd put a tiny spoonful of honey in it. 

He saw her savor the drink and gave her a wink. Then gestured to the plate and then the bushes. 

Emma understood what he was offering, and gave a slight shake of her head. It was nice of him to give her the option of sneakily disposing of the dish, but she'd said she would try it. So she was going to. Any moment now. Yes. Just, maybe, after another sip or two of tea. 

"So, have you made your choice yet," Clavis was asking. "I'm sure you already have some opinions."

As it happened, she did, but not very strong ones. Emma didn't follow politics and didn't care much about the doings of nobles, unless they were in her shop anyway. "I think I need to take my time. Learn more about you and your brothers. Study the issues the king will need to handle."

Clavis nodded sagely, and for the first time, she saw something more than mischief in his gaze. This was, she realized, a very smart man. One that played off his knowledge with humor and ridiculousness. His manner was disarming, or rather, differently alarming, but he was as much a beast as the other princes. 

"Since you've asked so nicely, I am willing to offer you my help. You're welcome of course." Clavis smiled. "We can have breakfast together every day, and I'll invite my brothers to join us." 

Emma took back every half-nice thought she'd had about the man. There was no way she was going to sit through this morning horror every day. Her eyes found the still bubbling loaf in front of her before skittering away. She swallowed back a mouthful of unpleasant, hot saliva. "That's, er, very kind? But I don't really - I'm not - it's not necessary. Lord Noir has offered to teach me and -"

"Please, Sariel? He doesn't know anything." Clavis made a dismissive gesture.

She was about to protest again when Cyran leaned close. "I'll bring you toast and jam so you don't have to suffer his cooking. This is a good idea - and the other princes will be just as unsettled by the menu, meaning -"

"They might say something they'd otherwise keep hidden." Emma finished. She gave the soldier a grateful look. "Alright. I agree." Her stomach made a flipflop of disagreement, which she ignored. 

Cyran smiled brightly and gave her a thumbs up. This made Emma's stomach flip again in a completely different way. He had, she decided, a very nice smile. A distracting one. She needed to stay focused. The palace was not a place to flirt, not for her. 

"You agree?" A brief wide-eyed look of surprise met her words, followed by a return of his manic grin. "Of course you do. Who could refuse such a gallant, handsome prince such as myself? But I have to warn you not to fall in love with me. There are rules against it that we'd have so much fun breaking!" 

"I don't plan on falling in love with anyone," Emma demurred. 

The prince chuckled. "Only because you haven't tried my cooking." He gestured meaningfully at the loaf, which had thankfully stopped burbling. 

Emma took a deep breath and steeled her spine. She had to do this. Just take a bite, swallow. No need to even taste it. Or feel that weird, grainy, bubbling texture on her tongue. She shivered. "Right. Yes. Your cooking." Scooping a spoonful of the brown stuff took all her courage. She tried not to look at it as she raised the spoon to her lips and opened her mouth.

"It looks worse that it tastes, I promise," Cyran reassured her quietly. 

"Pah. It doesn't look bad! It looks interesting. There's not a single bakery in town with a loaf like that." Clavis watched her as she took her bite.

She intended to just swallow without chewing, but the loaf was too solid for that. Despite the moist look to it, the brown stuff was too dense for that. Emma tentatively chewed. The flavor was not as bad as she feared. There was a nuttiness too it, and a slight bitterness as well. The texture was soggy and grainy as she feared, but didn't have the sliminess she expected. 

"See?" Clavis beamed. 

Cyran refilled her cup of tea. 

"It wasn't the worst thing I've ever eaten," Emma admitted. "But! I'm quite full now. So, if you please?"

"I can't wait to make all sorts of fun things for you to try," Clavis clapped his hands together in excitement. 

Emma felt a pit of dread open in her chest. "Wonderful." She stood. "Thank you for the food, Prince Clavis, and the invitation."

Cyran nudged her arm. "You don't have to thank him. He's enjoying this." 

She felt a small smile tug at her lips as she exchanged a look with the soldier. 

"If it's alright, I'd like to escort the lady back to her rooms?" Cyran asked the prince, who gave a slight nod in return. "Great. Try not to get into too much trouble before I get back."

Clavis laughed. "Me? Trouble?"

"Always." Cyran grinned back. Then he took Emma's arm and turned. "Let's go, my lady. Before the prince decides on some other fun activity for you."

"It isn't good to eat before vigorous exercise," he scolded. 

"I didn't expect to be training first thing in the morning," she replied. 

Hideyoshi's brow crinkled further. "I agreed to teach you just yesterday."

"We didn't discuss much. Either way, I apologize. Will this be our regular training time?" She stood, leaving her breakfast tray largely uneaten. She wasn't all that hungry anyway.

"You don't need to apologize." For a breath, he looked lost, as if unsure how to proceed. 

Akiko gave him a smile, the kind that had always worked to get her way with Morihide. "Of course I do. And I must apologize again. I need to put my hair up before we begin so it isn't in the way."

Hideyoshi nodded and looked as if he would step out to the hall, but then paused. "Do you want help?"

It was her turn to look confused. "I just braid it. Nothing special."

"I know how to do that. No reason to call your maids." Hideyoshi held out his hands.

Akiko knew Yua was just next door, likely listening to the entire exchange through the thin walls. She decided to give her maid something juicy to chew over. "Sure. Let's see if you're up to my standards." 

Hideyoshi let out a surprised chuckle. "My friends say I'm pretty good."

She handed him her brush and a ribbon, and then held very still. Hopefully he didn't pull too much. Akiko took a look at his big, calloused hands as he grabbed the brush and ribbon, and almost reconsidered. But if she was anything, she was stubborn, even if it was just for whatever rumors she could provoke. 

"Alright, sit here?" Hideyoshi gestured for her to sit back down on the low stool in front of her table. Then he carefully ran his hand over her hair, feeling for tangles. 

Despite herself, Akiko started to actually relax a little. He was gentle working through the tangled ends of her hair, and precise when he split it into three strands for a simple plait. "You know what you're doing," she teased.

Hideyoshi made a noncommittal grunt of acknowledgement. As he tied the bow at the end, he said, "I've had some practice."

Akiko wanted to pry further. Did he have sisters, lovers, what exactly? But she didn't think he would say more, at least not yet. She stood, straightening her simple kosode and hakama. "Thank you, Lord Toyotomi. Should we begin?"

"Let's," he agreed, turning away quickly. 

She thought she glimpsed an unexpected gentleness in his amber eyes, but decided she must have imagined it. He was Nobunaga's right hand man, and no one so high in the devil-king's regard could be anything but a demon, even if he kept that nature well-hidden. She was sure he would reveal himself eventually, and by then, she would be in a position to escape or fight back. 

Hideyoshi started her off in the training room practicing basic forms. He said little, only adjusted her grip on the halberd and her arm position. 

After several passes through the same motions, Akiko stopped, pointing the cloth-wrapped tip at the floor. "You know, I can do this by myself."

"You need to warm up before sparring." His brows drew together and he took on a lecturing tone. "Sparring without a warmup can lead to unnecessary injury. You must take care with your health. Otherwise, you leave yourself weaker than when you began."

"Umm. Alright?" Akiko was reminded of Morihide. Her father's vassal was always lecturing her and Haru about things. The memory came with a sharp pang of grief. She didn't know if he lived. She missed his counsel, his steady confidence. But he was gone, and she was alone in the midst of her enemies. 

Hideyoshi seemed to sense something of her shift in mood. He stepped closer, and set a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright, Lady Akechi?"

Akiko gave a curt nod. She hadn't meant to reveal any emotion, and she chided herself for being too obvious. "I'm fine. Just bored." She added, "Can you please just call me Akiko? Or Aki?"

"Aki? Then you must call me Hideyoshi." He gave a slight smile. "I think we've warmed up enough. Let's step through some slow speed sparring. Unless you need a moment?"

She thought he looked quite charming when he smiled like that. But then, monkeys could look charming too, right before they stole your hair comb or snatched the fruit from your bowl. "I'm fine. Let's do it."

Hideyoshi studied her expression for a moment, then nodded. A few minutes later, they were standing apart from each other, naginata in hand. He began calling out the katas, moving to strike, block, step. The wood clattered as they struck and struck again. High, low, sweeping arcs that could cut through a man or a mount like thin, worn silk. 

Akiko relaxed into the familiarity of it. Though this was her first lesson with Hideyoshi, it felt as if they'd done this a thousand times. She was able to forget for a little while where she was and why. 

"I hope you are being well treated." Clack. "Ieyasu and I worried. Mitsuhide isn't exactly -" Clack. "Easy to get along with." 

She shrugged. "Honestly, I barely speak to him." Clack. "Most days, it's just me and the maids. Sometimes Kyubei will stop in." 

Hideyoshi looked a bit surprised by that. "You must be bored." Clack. "Or, is this your preference?" Clack.

"My - no. At home, I had challenges. Responsibilities." Clack. "I managed the estate. Reviewed exports and taxes." Clack. "I mattered," she admitted bitterly in a moment of unintentional honesty.

"You matter here." Clack. "Nobunaga may even send you and Mitsuhide to oversee the rebuilding of Nagai." Clack. "If it's safe enough anyhow."

Akiko nearly dropped her halberd. Mitsuhide had mentioned nothing of this. "That's . . . good to know." Clack. "I would like to see home again."

Hideyoshi smiled. "I'm glad I brought you some good news." Clack. "If the province settles down, anyway." 

After that, they said little. The movements took all Akiko's focus, though she'd been through them a thousand times. It was always a little different with a new opponent, but she mainly just needed to focus. Thoughts of Nagai, of the ongoing rebellion, swirled in her heart and mind.

After what seemed only a short while, Hideyoshi called a halt, ready to move on to the next exercise.

"I can tell you've put in a lot of practice." He offered the compliment matter-of-factly. "I think, short of a real fight, you're as good with the naginata as I am. Keiji might be able to teach you more."

"Then let's spar for real," she grinned. It would be fun to try to show Hideyoshi how good she really was. And it would let off some tension. Besides, as nice as he acted, he was still a lackey for the Oda. Slipper-bearer to the devil-king. 

Hideyoshi shook his head. "I don't want to risk harming you. Let's practice some self defense techniques. Bare handed." His eyes narrowed as he looked her over. "I assume you've had some training in that as well?"

"Of course." Akiko put the naginata away, promising herself to spend a bit of time oiling the wood haft and replacing the cloth padding. It was important to care for your tools, even when they were only half-useful. 

"Great. I'll start slow, and get an idea of where you're at." He set his practice halberd down.

Akiko did not wait for him to turn to face her. She swept a kick at the back of his knee, and was surprised when he managed to shift and take the blow on his shin. 

Hideyoshi chided her. "It's bad form to strike before we start."

"Attacks rarely wait on one to be ready," she shot back. 

This drew a dry chuckle from the man. "True enough. You sound like Mitsuhide. He always has an excuse for his sneaky behavior."

"I am not like him." Akiko felt a flush of anger and tried to hide it. She didn't want him to know the insult landed. "It's just a truth. Morihide used to tell me that when I would train at home."

"Maybe, but this is practice, not a fight." Hideyoshi used his longer reach to make a grab for her arm. 

She saw the lunge coming and dodged it, then turned, hoping to land a hit on his side. Instead, she swung her arm directly into the path of his reaching hands. 

Hideyoshi took hold of her arm, yanking her close. 

Akiko wasn't about to be so easily defeated. She elbowed him in the gut, and stomped at his foot. His sudden exhalation told her the elbow landed, but her heel just stomped the wood floor. She tried to use the moment to slide out of his tenuous grip, but he managed to get his other hand on her arm.

Hideyoshi pinned it to her side while she squirmed. "Got - you -" he huffed.

"Not yet!" Akiko kicked at his leg and threw her head back. It was met with a solid crack as she made contact with his face, right at the same time her foot connected with the inside of his ankle. Surprisingly, he still didn't let go.

Instead, Hideyoshi flipped her around in his grasp, pressing her chest to chest. He used her momentary shock to pin her other arm. She tried to continue kicking, but he caught her leg between his thighs.

With just one leg free, Akiko knew she was caught. Well and truly. She didn't want to surrender, but aside from trying to bite him, she didn't have many options left. So. She bit him. Her teeth ground against the soft linen of his kimono and the firm flesh beneath. 

"Ouch! What the - stop that!" Hideyoshi shouted in surprise and alarm. 

"No," she growled around her mouthful.

Hideyoshi grunted, maneuvering her hands behind her back where he could grip them in one massive paw. He really did have large hands, she thought, distractedly. Then he tried prying her face from his chest with his free hand. 

Akiko refused to be moved. If she was going to lose the match, so was he. "Give up," she muttered, the words garbled. 

"Let go, feral girl!" Hideyoshi's voice was strained. 

As his large, calloused hand felt around her face, Akiko realized he was trying to figure out how to push her back without hurting her. Even now, when she was biting down hard enough to leave a mark, he was being gentle. She felt a sudden rush of shame. Morhide taught her better than this. It was one thing to fight with every fiber of your being against someone that wanted to hurt you, and something else entirely to do it to someone that was trying to help.

Akiko let go and hung her head. "Sorry. You win."

Hideyoshi held onto her a moment longer, likely confused. "You bit me."

"I said I was sorry. Am sorry. I just . . . reacted." Akiko looked up to find he was studying her. Those amber eyes were full of distrust, but more than that. There was sympathy? Pity? She wasn't sure, but it made her feel even worse. "If you let me go, I'll grab some ointment for it. The bite."

"Alright." Hideyoshi released her the way one might let go of an angry cat, half sure he was about to get scratched.

She stepped back and took a deep breath. Akiko wanted to find something to say, but couldn't think of anything other than another apology. Instead, she hurried to her room to grab a healing salve. It was something Reo procured for her, to treat any scratches or bruises. It worked tolerably well, though she wasn't a fan of the smell.

Once back in the training room, she asked Hideyoshi to pull back his kimono. He did so, one arm out of the sleeve. The bite was just above his nipple, a red ring in the shape of her teeth. It was already beginning to turn colors and swell. 

"Huh," was all Hideyoshi said as he looked down at it.

"Again, I am so so sorry. I got carried away, like it was a real fight." She knelt down to apply the salve.

Hideyoshi gave her a strained smile. "I've had worse for less reason. I should have considered you might still be anxious. This is enemy territory, after all. And I am one of the enemy." He left a slight question in the words, giving Akiko an opportunity to deny it.

She did not. "That isn't an excuse. If I could kill you and escape, that would be one thing. But biting you to - to." the confession would not come. It felt too petty. Akiko fell silent, smearing the ointment on his firm chest. She could not help but note his muscular frame, and the scars that crisscrossed his flesh. This man was a warrior, not that she'd doubted it. But seeing, feeling the strength of him made it more real in a way she couldn't explain.

"Well, well. What have we here? My wife alone, with a half-dressed man . . ." Mitsuhide's teasing voice came from the open doorway. 

Akiko turned, face flushed. She might have said something, if Hideyoshi hadn't beat her to it.

"We're sparring," Hideyoshi protested. 

"Is that a love bite?" Mitsuhide's brows went up. "It looks like a very passionate love bite. And your face . . ." 

"No!" Akiko and Hideyoshi said at once. 

Then, "What about my face," Hideyoshi ventured. 

Mitsuhide looked like he was holding something back. His jaw twitched. "You'll definitely have a bruise. Just what have you been getting up to with my wife?" He stressed the word wife, a wicked glimmer in the depths of his golden eyes. 

Hideyoshi scrambled to his feet and took a step back. "Nothing. She's - Aki is like a sister to me!"

"Aki, is it? You two have grown close enough for pet names?" 

Akiko identified the emotion Akechi was trying to keep hold of. The bastard was trying not to laugh. She felt a flare of indignation. Well, two could play this game. She stepped closer to Toyotomi and put a hand on his arm. "At least Hide spends time with me."

"Hide?" Hideyoshi looked at her like she'd lost her mind. 

She winked at him.

Mitsuhide shook his head. "I may have to fight you to the death, Toyotomi."

"You're the one - you - I -" Hideyoshi sputtered, lost somewhere between outrage and pure confusion. It was a toss up whether Akiko's flirtatious behavior or Mitsuhide's accusations got to him more. "I'm leaving," he said finally. "Aki - I mean, Lady Akechi," he bowed. "Mitsuhide." 

Akiko watched him hurry out, straightening his clothes. She turned to Mitsuhide. "That was mean. You knew full well we were sparring. You probably know every word we exchanged and every step and strike too."

Mitsuhide chuckled. "Not every word. Not yet, anyhow." His smile was wide and mocking. "I must admit, I didn't expect you to have him out of his clothes so quickly. I might even be jealous."

"Jealous? Please." Akiko scoffed. "So what are you here for? Just to chase Toyotomi out?"

"Of course not. Although I will cherish the expression on his face for awhile yet." He looked her over. "I'd planned on teaching you the books for my estates. If we must be married, I may as well get some use out of you."

"Great." Akiko sighed. "Can I get changed first?"

Mitsuhide grinned. "Why? You're beautiful just as you are. And it will just be us." He gestured for her to follow.

Haru came pelting through the room at full tilt, his face stretched in a grin of mischievous glee. His nurse was a few steps behind, her arms outstretched. He laughed, his chubby little hands flailing in the air as he zigged and zagged, just out of the woman's reach. Then the inevitable happened. He tripped over his own feet and tumbled forward, smacking into the floor.

The nurse knelt beside him, her expression strict. "You must not run in the house, Master Haru. Now get up and let me see if you got hurt."

"No!" Haru struggled on the floor, wriggling like a little worm. "I want my mama! Not you!"

This was a recent thing with her brother, and Akiko didn't understand it. Haru never really met their mother, but he was old enough to understand that he had one. Or that he should have had one. Every day, he would ask for her, and every day, he would be told she was gone. Every time Akiko heard this, it made her heart ache. She stood up, leaving the account ledgers behind to kneel beside her squirming sibling.

"Haru." She set her hand on his back. "Stop."

The nurse stood and gave Akiko a grateful look as she backed away to let his sister handle him. 

"No! I don't want you either!" Haru managed to scoot himself across the floor, legs kicking.

Akiko gestured for the maid to leave. "Haru, mom is gone. Stop it now, or - or I'll go get our father." This was, of course, an empty threat. Father had no time to manage a fussy child. 

"Where did she go," Haru wailed. "I want her! She's supposed to - to -" His words were lost to tears as he finally stopped trying to wriggle away. He rolled over, rubbing at his face furiously.

"She is dead." The word was dust in Akiko's mouth. Dry, flavorless, coating her tongue and lodging in her throat. "We," she cleared her throat, "we can visit her shrine if you want."

Haru sniffled, his tears slowing. "N-no. I don't want to see the stupid shrine." He sat up, rubbing his knees, which were certainly bruised. "How come everybody else has a mom and we don't? Even the nurse has a mom! And she's old!"

Akiko wasn't sure how to explain politics that she barely had a grasp of herself. At 15, she had the general outline of the challenges her family faced but she didn't know how to explain it to her brother. She settled on, "Sometimes people die, even moms."

"Is dad gonna die too?" 

"No," Akiko replied reflexively. Then, "Not for a long time." She gestured for Haru to come to her and he did. He was a little too big to be carried around at 3, but Akiko managed to lift him as she stood up. 

Haru snuggled into her shoulder, rubbing his face on her clothes. "Can I stay with you," he mumbled.

"I have to finish the accounts." She kissed the top of his head. 

"I can help." Haru peered at her from the side of his eye, trying to see if she believed him.

Akiko did not, but she didn't want to send him to his room sad. "You can stay, but you have to be really quiet."

Haru nodded. 

She sat down at her desk again and settled Haru in her lap. He laid his head on her shoulder. Akiko waved the nurse away before bending back to the account ledgers. Comparing household purchases between this year and the last five, it wasn't exactly riveting but Akiko didn't want to let her father down. 

"Hime?"

Akiko glanced up to see Morihide standing in the open doorway. "I'm not done yet," she said, expecting that he'd come to pick up the ledgers for her father.

"I thought I would offer assistance, if you need it." Morhide smiled, his eyes moving to Haru. "It looks like your brother did not find the work riveting."

She turned her head to look at him and realized his eyes were shut, his breath slow and calm. Akiko smiled, feeling a surge of love for Haru. It was true that their mother was gone, but she promised herself she would be a mother to him so that he never felt the lack. All the things mom did for her, she would do for him.

"Should I settle him in bed," Morihide asked.

"That's alright. I'll hold him a little longer." Akiko glanced back at Morihide. "Would you mind checking my math on the wine and food purchases? It looks like this past month, we bought more than we have before, but the number of servants and residents have not increased."

He nodded and came to sit beside her. "Let's see." Morihide perused the document, chewing at his lower lip in thought. 

Akiko mimicked the gesture without realizing she did so. 

"Your math is accurate, but the conclusion is wrong. See, here, the volume," Morihide pointed at one column, "it's about the same, but here," he pointed at another amount, "the cost has increased for meat, so more was spent."

"Ah." She flushed with embarrassment. "I shouldn't have made such a basic error. I need to rewrite my recommendations."

Morhide patted her back. "Don't be ashamed. This is how you learn. When your mother was young, she made the same mistakes, and grew from them." 

"Thank you," Akiko sighed. "I just don't want to fail Father." 

"You never could. He is proud of you."

Akiko wished that were true. Every day, she felt her inadequacy. She wanted to know everything she needed to know now, do everything now. 

Morihide seemed to know the path of her thoughts. "You are still just a girl, hime. Knowledge and skills come with time and practice."

"Thank you, Morihide. I just . . . Haru wants his mom, and Father needs someone to run the house and balance the books and direct the servants, and, there's just, it's so many things. He worries about us so much. I want to take care of all these things so that he doesn't need to worry. I want him to be happy, like he was when - when mom was here."

He hugged her gently, his scratchy salt and pepper beard grazing Akiko's cheek. "Your father will always worry, because he loves you and Haru, and he cares for Nagai." Morihide looked at her intently. "Do not take burdens on yourself that you were not meant to carry. And be proud of what you have done, and are doing."

Akiko couldn't reply. She found her throat was tight with emotion, so she only nodded in response.

The prince in question wore his usual smile as he rode in line, just a bit behind Chevalier. While Clavis waved at the crowd, winked, and blew kisses, his older brother only stared icily into the distance as if all of this was beneath him. Maybe that was for the best. Cyran knew when Chevalier took an interest, blood would be spilled.

His focus shifted from the princes and back to the crowd. Cyran cataloged smiling faces and relaxed postures, noted a handful of sour expressions, and marked the look of a few obvious drunks. Nothing to worry about. Nothing, but - his eyes lingered on a figure up ahead. 

A woman, standing near one of the large, decorative town fountains. She wasn't particularly remarkable. Brown hair, brown eyes, short stature . . . but she held herself ramrod straight, shoulders back, chin held high. She was faced off against a drunken lout, a man twice her width and more than a head taller than she was. 

Cyran glanced up at Prince Clavis, a question in his gaze. Clavis laughed softly, and with an almost imperceptible gesture, pointed out where Sariel stood watching. The devilish councillor was half hidden in the shadows of a low awning on the opposite side of the square, but there was no doubting where his attention lingered. 

The column of princes and guards stalled as the drama played out in front of them. Some shouting, grumbling, and aggressive body language. Nothing too unusual for a festival day.

For a moment, the soldier wondered why Sariel would be watching some common girl, but it took him no time to put it together. The king was dead, though only the royals and a few hand-picked servants knew. Which meant it was time for that strange Rhodolitian custom, the choosing of a Belle.

The poor girl. Hopefully Sariel would turn his eyes elsewhere. Cyran looked back at her to find that Leon was now involved. Holding the drunk back from hitting her. Despite the situation, she still didn't look scared. He felt a certain admiration for her. It took something to stand tall in the face of threat. 

Then Chevalier dismounted and joined Leon. Cyran couldn't hear what was said, but he caught a gesture toward the ground, where several books lay scattered on the pavement. They must have belonged to the girl. The drunk was trying to stomp on them. Chevalier pulled his sword.

Here we go, thought Cyran, his eyes darting to the crowd. Things could get ugly fast, but so far people only seemed curious. When he looked back to the drunk, he was surprised to see the man still breathing. The crazy girl stood between Prince Chevalier's naked blade and the drunk. Then she slapped the drunk, a solid smack that was loud enough to be heard over the crowd noise.  

"Wait here," Clavis whispered. "I just got the most astounding idea!" He dismounted in one easy motion. 

Cyran tried to interpose himself between the troublesome prince and the incident brewing, but there was no way to stop Clavis. Not unless he was going to tackle the prince, a move not recommended in public. Instead, he followed behind him, a few paces back, ready in case his prince found the mischief he was looking for.

"You need to calm down, unless you want to get yourself killed over this?" The girl lectured the drunk, her voice as stern as a sergeant's. 

The drunk looked past her at the three princes now arrayed. All the color drained from his face, save the high points of red in his cheeks and on his nose. 

Satisfied with his reaction, the girl turned to face Chevalier and Leon. She did a small, awkward curtsy. "I apologize if we've caused you any trouble. I hope you are able to forgive and forget this little incident." 

Chevalier's face was stone, but Leon burst out laughing. "Don't worry," Leon said when his laughter passed. "He's not so petty as to actually kill someone over something like this." 

"What?" The girl gasped, just as Chevalier rolled his eyes.

"I tire of this," The second prince let out a sigh of annoyance.

Clavis stood just behind his brother, and at this, he leaned close and asked loudly, "are you done playing, Chevalier?"

Chevalier did not react, to the taunt as usual. He only turned his head to look at his brother. "I am. This was a waste of my time."

Cyran held back a relieved breath, and just as well because Chevalier wasn't done.

"Are those your books," Chev asked, glancing back at the girl and then toward the ground. If they were hers, they were in awful condition now. The covers were torn and dirty, several bound pages stuck out at odd angles where they'd loosened, and at least one was wet.

"Yes," the girl replied, clearly at a loss. She took a half step forward, uncertain.

Clavis chuckled. "Now, now, dear brother! Don't tell me you're in the mood for romance?"

Cyran noticed then that every book in the pile was a romantic title. Something he and Clavis knew full well that the second prince enjoyed. Or, at least, he read them. It was hard for Cyran to imagine Chevalier enjoying much of anything. 

"Romance is worthless, but," Chevalier fixed his gaze on the girl. In a heartbeat, his sword was out, and the tip rested at her tender throat. 

Standing still took all of Cyran's willpower and training. His instincts screamed at him to take action, protect the civilian from this brutal beast, but he knew any interference without a direct order would only make this worse. If the second prince drew blood, he told himself, then . . .

"These books are different. They are worth more than your life. You'd do well to remember that." Chevalier used the flat of his blade to lift the girl's chin. 

She gave a minute nod, all she was probably capable of in that moment. 

Chevalier resheathed his sword. Without another word, he mounted again, and continued on as if nothing happened. 

Clavis, thankfully, followed suit, though he left with a speculative expression that Cyran knew meant trouble. He wondered if he was going to spend a night digging pit traps or if his prince planned something more exotic. Maybe a smoke bomb, or itch powder. 

When they arrived back at the palace, Cyran took the prince's horse to the stable. There were servants there to care for the animals, but Cyran preferred to see to Punch himself. Besides, it would give him some time to consider what to do about the Belle - because he was sure that was Sariel's angle - and how Clavis might react. 

He was deep in thought as he left the stables. Cyran had a few ideas about what came next. He'd likely be tasked with finding out more about this girl, or perhaps sabotaging Sariel's recruitment of -

"Ahhh!" The girl's high pitched shout registered at the same time the feel of warm, soft, solidity did. 

Cyran reached out, catching the girl just under her shoulder. His body reacted to the collision before his mind did, so he stood there for a moment, holding her, before his thoughts kicked back into gear. "You," he said.

"Me?" The girl blinked up at him with wide, surprised eyes. "Do I know you?" Her gaze narrowed and he found himself the focus. Her eyes seemed to see into him, as if instead of his face, she peered into his soul. 

"N-no . . ." Cyran was tongue tied pinned in place by her scrutiny. 

She blinked. "Then, um, could you, you know -" The girl made a shooing gesture with her hands.

"Could I?" His thoughts felt glacial even though his skin was hot. A strange combination of sensations that sent a wave of pleasant tingling through his limbs. 

"Let me go?" Her hand landed atop his and Cyran became aware all at once of how close he was holding her, of the way his hand clutched at the softness of her side. Her cool fingertips tapped the back of his hand as if to draw attention to it. 

His face heated, from his chest to the roots of his red hair. To say he let go would be an understatement. Cyran practically leapt away from her. "I am so so sorry." He shoved both hands into his pockets. "Really sorry! I didn't mean to - to grab onto you like that."

"It's fine." She adjusted her clothes, smoothing the wrinkles. "Thank you for not letting me fall."

"It's not fine. I should watch where I'm going," and grabbing, he mentally added. "If you're willing, let me buy you a drink sometime, to make up for it?" The invitation was out before Cyran had a chance to think it through. This woman was Sariel's newest pawn in the palace, and his own prince's target. Drinks were not on the table.

The girl smiled, showing off a shallow dimple on her left cheek. "You know, any other day and I'd say yes. But I don't think I'm going to have time to myself for awhile." 

Cyran nodded, a part of him grateful for the rebuff. even if it still stung "Why's that," he asked, though he already knew.

"Mmmm. That scary devil with the glasses. Do you know him?"

"I do. The king's trusted counsel." Cyran grinned, "Didn't know he was your type. Good catch though. The man is well connected."

Her mouth opened in surprise and then she laughed. It was, he thought, a very nice laugh. "Oh my god, no! You - that - that's not even funny!"

Cyran chuckled. "But it was! You just laughed."

"I did," she admitted. "But more out of shock. Seriously!" The girl shook her head. "Anyway, no. He brought me here to - to - well, I'm not supposed to say. But the work is going to take all my time." 

"Fair enough. I work here at the palace too. Trust me when I say these princes can keep you on your toes." He ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he meant the next question more for himself or for Prince Clavis. "I'm Cyran, by the way. What's your name?"

"Emma." She turned her head toward one of the garden courtyards. "I think I've got to go. But it was nice meeting you, Cyran!"