“It will be all right,” I said, wishing just for a moment that I had my brother’s force of will to put behind my words. Whatever else Iseul was, he was a man that people heeded.
Fortunately, where Kouje was concerned, I was that sort of man as well. I didn’t know what I’d done to inspire such stubborn loyalty, one that extended far beyond the call of duty and what honor bound him to me and the palace. Kouje had acted against our code—the code of the Ke-Han—in order to save my life. When this was all over, I would have to ask him why.
“If you say so,” said Kouje, thawing at last enough to put his hand on my shoulder. I could tell that he was beginning to regret his earlier reluctance, and that if I didn’t move quickly, he’d be apologizing for that soon enough.
“I do,” I said, ducking away to continue where we’d started packing up our belongings.
The clothing I’d changed into was much more freeing than what I’d grown accustomed to at the palace. I scarcely believed how simple it was to move around, and soon discovered that I would have to work a little at making sure my steps did not take me beyond Kouje when we walked together in the road. I had spent so many years clad first in women’s clothing, then the cumbersome robes of the palace, that I had naturally learned to walk one way. It would not work with my legs suddenly so free.
“I feel odd,” I confessed, coming to stand at Kouje’s shoulder, just behind him as he had stood for me countless times before.
He lifted one of our large packs and slung it over one shoulder. “You’ll get used to it.”
I raised my eyebrows, gazing at the pack on his shoulder.
“Ah,” he said, seeming to take my meaning. He eased our luggage off his back, then looked hesitant. “Maybe you should carry one of the smaller ones. I can put this on the horse.”
“Kouje,” I said, and stuck out my hand for the bag. The best way to make the illusion believable was to make it as real as possible. I knew that as an avid admirer of the theatre, though I’d never guessed it might help me in such a way on our journey.
“You’re determined to kill me with this, I see,” Kouje said, but there was something admiring in his voice. He handed our luggage over.
It was heavy. Fortunately I’d been expecting the weight, since I was certain if I’d buckled under it, Kouje would have insisted on its going with the horse, authenticity or no. I wouldn’t be able to carry it on one shoulder, the way Kouje did, but so long as I held my back straight and kept my head down, it was certainly tolerable.
“You might as well ride the horse,” I told Kouje, sharing a private, wry smile with him while I still could. “You’ll look properly noble that way.”
“Now you’re just torturing me,” Kouje said, but he swung into the stirrups and mounted our animal.
“It shouldn’t be long to the checkpoint,” I murmured, for myself as much as for him.
He gave a short nod and we started out.
It was much swifter traveling on the main road than on trails Kouje found—or sometimes made—for us, and it was not quite midday when we came to the place where the road widened. I could see a small crowd building where the traffic slowed to form an orderly line, and guards in black and dark blue were patrolling up and down to make sure no one got too impatient.
I felt the beginning of something sick and nervous in my stomach and took a deep breath to quash the feeling. I couldn’t afford to be nervous. Nor could I risk looking to Kouje for comfort, when in my guise as a servant it would be considered the height of impropriety to lift my eyes to my lord. Instead I kept my eyes fixed on my sandals, where the dust danced and swirled with each misstep, and my mind on the road ahead.
“Wagons form a line to the right,” one of the guards called as we passed by. “All those on foot to the left.”
Another guard approached us and I was too apprehensive even to flinch.
“Might as well dismount here, my lord,” he said to Kouje. “We’re leading everyone through on foot.”