Page 1 of The Tainted and the Tamed
Chapter 1
Murasaki
Mukai Murasaki stood in the misting rain on Sanjo-doori, the edges of her wax umbrella dripping as she stared at the fortified outer gate as she struggled for breath. When her mother said there was a castle in her remote hometown, Murasaki thought she was joking.
She hadn’t been. The outer wall ran too far to see its corners, and the castle itself was lost to fog.
How long are you going to stand here gawking?she asked herself, twisting her mouth. Her cheeks were ruddy from the already cold autumn weather up here in the mountains, her chest ached and her journey to the rural prefecture had been long enough already.At least go stand under the gate’s roof.
But this castle, with its medieval walls and doors as tall as five men, made her skin prickle.
She touched the fur stole around her neck, part of an outfit she had not worn since she came of age. Her mother had insisted she should not go to Fusae Castle in a western-style dress and hat—and, now that she saw it, Murasaki was glad for the traditional garb. She would have been entirely out of place coming here in a shirtwaist and skirt.
This castle was straight out of the past.
Only the leather travel case at her side reminded her these were not the feudal times of her childhood.
With one shuddering breath, Murasaki’s painful geta carried her cloppingly to the gate. Shifting the travel case, she raised her fist to knock, her mouth already open to call out.
The door floated open. Murasaki gaped.
The bald head of an elderly butler, dressed neatly in a black kimono and flaring pin-striped hakama, peered around its edge.
Murasaki kept her hand in a fist, lowering it to her side.
“Good afternoon,” Murasaki said, aiming to sound cheerful and not short of breath. “My name is Mukai Murasaki. I’m here to interview with Ms. Tanabe.”
The butler chuckled.
“I was wondering when you were going to enter,” he said, and pointed a finger at the door. “Peepholes,” he explained, then extended his hand, “and we have a bell. If I had not been waiting for you, I never would’ve heard you.”
Murasaki bowed hastily. “I’m sorry for making you wait in this weather.”
“No bother. I’ve always enjoyed these grounds in the rain. I am Uno Gen, at your service. Don’t be shy, now—Ms. Tanabe is the one who dislikes waiting, not me.”
Damn it all—this is not the start I was after.The last thing Murasaki wanted was to displease the housekeeper before she’d even interviewed for the job.
Pinching the side of her kimono in what she hoped was a lady-like fashion, Murasaki clattered through the open door, closing her sopping umbrella to squeeze in. As if the wall was fortified even against weather, the mists parted before her.
Murasaki beheld a panoramic view of a winding garden, its paths framed by carefully cultivated, craggy evergreens beaded with crystalline water. The trees grew almost horizontally, folded over the path and supported on bamboo scaffolding that somehow did not detract from their beauty. And though the care provided to them was evident, the garden still maintained a feeling of wildness.
It was like another world. Doubly so because the rain pattered to a stop before Murasaki could leave the protection of the overhang.
“I see now,” Murasaki said, closing her gaping mouth.
Mr. Uno chuckled. “So you do. Once you get to know these gardens, you’ll be as immensely fond of them as I am. You won’t even mind the long walk.”
Murasaki winced at the thought. She could already feel a blister or three forming beneath her tabi socks.
Sure enough, pain shot through her foot as she followed the Mr. Uno down a winding gravel path that hung close to the wall. Her geta were not at all broken in. Murasaki hadn’t expected to dress in traditional clothes again, even for her wedding.
She clutched the briefcase a little tighter each time she thought of the man who would’ve been her husband. It was as if it gave her a little more energy to push on.
But damnation, it was torture to walk on geta over gravel. She feared she’d twist her ankle with every step.
“Not long now,” Mr. Uno called over his shoulder, as if he understood. “We’ll take the shortcut.”
The butler hooked left suddenly, stepping purposefully into the shadow of one of the curving trees. Even the diminutive Mr. Uno was forced to duck under the tree as he went, disappearing into the regathering haze.
