ronin shot me his wolfish grin, eyes glinting. “Forget obligation, this is the most fun I’ve had in years. When I was a samurai, I was never important enough to be invited to the emperor’s grand parties. It’s going to be poetically ironic sauntering in there with a Taiyo, the proudest of the proud, and seeing the looks on their pinched, stuck-up faces.”
“But it’s dangerous. What happens if we’re found out?”
“The danger is what makes it fun, Yumeko-chan,” Okame said. “None of the nobles are going to ask if you’re really an onmyoji—that would be the height of discourtesy. As long as you don’t agree to tell any fortunes, divine the future or exorcise a demon, we should be fine.” He shrugged and leaned against the railing, looking carefree. “So I wouldn’t worry about it. The court monkeys will all be too busy preening, fawning over the emperor and trying to out-strut each other to pay much attention to us.”
“There will be monkeys?” I blinked in shock. “Well, that will make it entertaining, at least. But monkeys are terribly messy, won’t they be worried about that?”
“That was quite cruel, Okame-san,” said a new voice, and Taiyo Daisuke came around the corner of the building. He wore a magnificent kimono of dark blue silk, with miniature golden suns patterned over the sleeves and down the front, and he held a colorful silk fan in both hands. His long white hair had been pulled behind his head, and glimmered against the dark silk of his robes. “You shouldn’t fill Yumeko-san’s head with such lies. At least a few of them will be too busy destroying a rival’s reputation with gossip, or setting up advantageous marriages, to be doing much fawning.”
Glancing up at me, he smiled and lowered his head in a respectful bow. “Lady Yumeko,” he said in a solemn voice, “I feel I must apologize again for my boorish behavior the night we met. It is fortunate that the sakura blossoms have already faded and passed away, for surely they would weep at having to compete with your beauty.”
“Um...” I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that; no one had ever paid me such a compliment before. Fortunately at that moment, Reika slid open the door and joined us on the veranda, saving me from stammering a reply in a most unnoble-like fashion. The miko still wore the red hakama and white haori of the shrine maidens, but her hair was up and had been decorated with ribbons and tiny bells. Two other miko appeared behind her, similarly dressed, and both of them gaped at the stunning aristocrat, their mouths slightly open. Daisuke, likely used to such reactions, politely ignored them.
“Stop that.” Reika swatted one of the miko with a sleeve, making her jump. “Both of you. You look like a pair of gasping carp. Do not embarrass me tonight. Taiyo-san,” she continued, turning and bowing to Daisuke, making the golden bells in her hair jingle. “Forgive this inconvenience to your valuable time. I cannot express my gratitude enough.”
“Not at all, Reika-san,” Daisuke replied. “I’m glad to be of help. And a change in the court scenery will be good for everyone. Shall we go? The sun is setting, and it is a long walk to the palace.”
“A moment, please,” said the shrine maiden, stopping us. “There is one more who will be coming.”
Reaching into her sleeve, she withdrew an ofuda, the white strip of paper used to focus holy magic. The kanji for loyalty was written down the surface, the same ofuda she’d brandished at me when we first met. Closing her eyes, the shrine maiden began chanting something under her breath, and the air around her began to stir with power.
“Guardian of the Hayate shrine,” I heard her whisper. “Most loyal of protectors, come to me.”
The wind around her scattered in all directions, rattling the branches overhead. We waited, holding our breath.
A furry creature trotted around the building and came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. It was a dog, small and lanky, with triangular ears, reddish-orange fur with a white belly, and a bushy tail curled tightly over its hindquarters. A crimson rope collar hung around its neck, a golden bell dangling from the very center.
Inu! I fought the sudden urge to leap back, to sprint down the veranda and duck into one of the rooms, closing the door between us. I’d never liked dogs, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Once, when