Page 31 of The Tainted and the Tamed
“Thank you,” she said. “And thank Dr. Setouchi for me as well.”
He sensed hesitancy in her voice. Flicking his eyes toward her, he saw how dark bags hung beneath her eyes, and how sallow her skin was. He also saw the way strands of her hair—damp from hanging over the steam—were beginning to curl slightly.
“I’m sorry to have been the cause of an errand at this early hour,” she added at last. “Please tell Dr. Setouchi the medicine he already prescribed has been helping. But I am greatly relieved to have the original prescription again.”
Haruki shifted, his chest puffed out slightly as he tried not to appear disarmed by this woman. Junpei was right—womenwerehis weakness.
“If that’s all you’d like me to tell the doctor, I’ll be off on other errands.” He fought a wince. Who had so many errands at this hour?
But she smiled in return. “Of course. Forgive me for keeping you.”
As they exchange bows, did she bow a little lower than was necessary? As if she knew?
Impossible.
Haruki hurried away, flinching over the racket he was forced to make on the floors. If anyonewasafter a chairman tonight, he might as well have handed them a map.
Now that he had seen Murasaki, though, he felt as though that shadow had never been. It was nothing more than an anxious mind—and overly acute vampire senses—playing tricks.
Perhaps Murasaki is the source of the shadow, he mused. One that fell over his heart and mind instead.
Out of an abundance of caution, he’d patrol Fusae via the secret tunnels. Once he was far enough from the waking servants, he hurried back to his quarters to find Daisuke and Junpei.Just to be safe.
To keephersafe, he tried not to add.
Chapter 15
Haruki
Fusae Castle, and its people, were safe. The three of them had made sure of it. With almost the entire household turning out for the autumn festival, there was no reason to stay at home tonight.
“For the record, I am opposed to every part of this,” Junpei grumbled, his usual mask traded for a cheaper version and his fine kimono replaced with inferior silk. Mr. Uno had been both quick and resourceful with finding them disguises, including the masks. The night would be full of such merry faces with rosy cheeks and mysterious smiles.
Junpei’s new fox mask was so like Daisuke’s usual that Haruki needed to hold back a laugh. They were mates for so long, they probably didn’t even notice how casually alike they’d grown.
“And yet you’re still here,” Daisuke said, briefly fidgeting with the unfamiliar clothes.
“If the two of you will be fools, I may as well chaperone,” Junpei said. Even dressed like the common folk, he looked woefully out of place. Haruki’s instructions to “act normal” were clearly lost on him.
Then again, what did any of them know about normal?
Daisuke, his head turning in every direction, clearly reveled in walking openly through Fusae’s streets. Even this close to the castle, there were many pedestrians, all in a mix of western and traditional clothing. “So much better than peeking through the coach’s curtains,” he murmured.
Junpei, however, kept fiddling with his mask, as if unsure whether to pull it down. He wasn’t wrong. The sensation of air—and eyes—on his face while in public unsettled Haruki more than he would admit. He simply kept his back straight and forced his eyes not to linger anywhere, lest he make eye contact with one of his subjects by mistake.
The point of tonight was to enjoy themselves, and to see how their people actually lived, for once. It could only benefit them. Since no one knew what the chairmen looked like, there was no risk of their being recognized.
So why did it feel so uncomfortable?
It struck Haruki that the last time he’d walked the streets openly like this, their corner of the world had been a different place entirely. Then, there’d been a sword at his hip—at many a man’s hip—and a shogun in power. The three of them were out of place as well as out of time.
As they neared the festival site, the streets grew wider, allowing for the heavy winter snows to be pushed aside so the main thoroughfare remained passable. But the first snow, though near, had not yet come. Tonight—this brisk, moonlit night—was a celebration of the harvest.
Haruki could already hear the drums.
His slow heart quickened as they drew closer, the high whir of flutes teasing his vampire hearing. The parade of portable shrines, beginning at sunset, was already complete, and the patron gods of the shrine returned to their home.
Now, the locals of the prefecture marched between towering floats depicting deities and folktales. How bright their reds and oranges must look to the mortals! To him, it was the dullest sight on the entire street, the colors mute compared to the shadows.
