He leaned close and kissed her, tasted salt on her lips, wine on her tongue.
It had seemed foolish at first, to be spending so much time in Michi’s room. But the memory of her kiss on the day they met lingered on his skin, and with all the turmoil at court recently, he supposed a few moments in her company would not be noticed. And so he’d visited each day, watched as she whisked and steeped his tea, eyes drifting up slowly to meet his, gift him with that small, shy smile. Questions about Lady Aisha and the Kitsune girl’s assault had given way to queries about her family, her childhood. And two evenings ago, as he bowed to take his leave, he’d straightened to find her standing only a breath away. Lips parted. Cheeks flushed. Shivering. She had breathed his name, just once, like a prayer.
And he had not been able to help himself.
He smoothed the damp hair from her cheek, caressing her skin softly as he may.
“Would it make you happy to be on my arm in public, Michi-chan?”
“Of course.” She sat up straighter, bedclothes clutched about her. “But I’m not certain that should bring any comfort, considering I’d walk on the arm of the Endsinger herself to escape these rooms.”
Ichizo leaned back, searched her eyes. “Would you rather still be in prison?”
She lowered her gaze. “A cage with silken sheets is still a cage, my Lord.”
“I am trying. It will take time.” He touched the old scar fading on her cheek. “I know how you suffer.”
“But do you?” The small dark line Ichizo had begun to hate appeared between her brows. “No charge has been brought against me, and still my honor is in question. The Kitsune traitor who slew Yoritomo tried to kill me too. I have the scars to prove it.”
“I know.” He ran a finger across the top of her breast. “I’ve seen.”
“You declare affection in the same breath you make jest of my disgrace?”
“These things take time, Michi-chan.” He straightened with a sigh. “Lord Hiro is about to broker deals with both of his political rivals. Yoritomo’s old bodyguard have thrown in with him to a man. The Guild already back him. The Daimyo’s chair will be his by weeksend. The plight of Lady Aisha’s ladies means very little to him right now, I’m afraid.”
“And how is my Lady?” Michi met his eyes again for just a heartbeat. “I’m not allowed to see her. Though she betrayed our Shōgun, she was my friend as well as my mistress. I loved her, Ichizo.”
“Precisely why you should stay away from her. If you wish to prove your fidelity, consorting with a traitor is the last thing you should do.”
“Lord Hiro is your cousin. Who can convince him of my innocence if not you?”
“My cousin is a complicated man, love…”
“Promise me.” The furrow in her brow deepened. “Promise you’ll get me out of here.”
“I will try.”
She sighed, wiped at her eyes. “Trying is not doing.”
“All right, all right. Izanagi’s balls, woman. I promise.”
A smile, bright as sunlight slipping out from behind the clouds. She grabbed his hand, kissing his fingertips, one after another.
“Oh, my Lord,” she sighed. “Thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done. Your kindness … I can think of no way to repay it.”
“I am sure we can remedy that when I return.” He straightened again, backed away to the door. “But now I must go, or Hiro will have my life and all will be for naught.”
She planted a feather-light kiss onto her fingertips and blew it to him. “I’ll miss you.”
“I will return, fear not.”
He slipped from the room with his serving retinue, leaving her alone amidst the fading footsteps. He did not see the smile fall from her lips like a mask at the end of a kabuki play.
He did not see her wipe his taste from her lips.
He did not hear her whisper.
“I fear nothing.”
*
She was six years old when the Iron Samurai came to Daiyakawa. She remembered the sound their armor made, like a snake pit full of twisting metal, heavy boots drumming on the sun-cracked road. The bushimen came behind, so many that the dust in their wake was as tall as a tsunami. But really, the Iron Samurai would have been enough. The other soldiers were present for show; the feathers of a peacock spread to impress his rivals.