understand better and better, slurring their conjugations and elongating their vowels. Sometimes they used words I didn’t even recognize, which left me scrambling after the meaning of what I’d overheard, trying to piece together what the word must have meant by the context of the other words surrounding it. If I was to be a commoner, then it was necessary for me to understand their language, though their slang often made me blush.
What I recognized most of all, to my shame and growing agitation, was my own name, usually spoken in loud whispers; the rest was gossip, each tidbit more ludicrous than the last. One of them had Kouje fighting mountain demons in the north; another had me already in Tado, across the ocean, in talks with the royal family there. Where had I found a boat, I wondered, and how had I got across the water so quickly? And yet, when I thought of the guards at the checkpoint, I wished that I were in Tado, dining at the royal court, speaking with them of true treason.
Yet—and this was the strangest thing—the men and women on the street, when speaking my name or Kouje’s, uttered them without any animosity at all. I was a runaway and, for all they knew, also a traitor. I ought to have been vilified. Men should have spat on the street when they spoke of me, and women should have looked up to the heavens in apology when they acknowledged my existence. Why didn’t they loathe me? There was some piece of the puzzle I was missing, and I didn’t know how to go about understanding it.
Kouje reined the horse in suddenly, to avoid trampling a group of small children as they darted out across the road and almost directly under our horse’s hooves.
“I’m Lord Kouje,” the child in the lead called back over his shoulder, waving a short stick in a way that intimated it was not, in fact, a stick at all, but rather a great sword.
“You were Lord Kouje last time!” one of his companions accused, deeply affronted by his friend’s selfishness. “And Sanji was Prince Mamoru last time, too!”
They disappeared past us down a side street in a chorus of shouting and laughter, leaving Kouje and me baffled in their wake.
“Imagine that,” was all Kouje finally said, and we hurried along, so as not to lose Jiang and Inokichi in the crowd.
We stopped at last in front of another noodle shop—and spending so much time near noodle shops without buying any noodles, I realized, was going to drive me mad sooner or later. My favorite noodles had been the wide, flat rice ones, served hot, usually in broth; Kouje preferred buckwheat noodles, served cold and sprinkled with sesame oil. Just thinking about it made me ache all over.
“My old friend runs this place,” Kichi said, after we’d dismounted. “He’ll give us the best noodles for cheap. Can’t find better noodles, not even in the capital!”
“We’re not hungry,” Kouje said, a bit too quickly. I understood the reason why—the longer he hesitated, the more difficult it would be to refuse.
Inokichi looked at us, mouth wide open in shock, like a dead fish’s. “Not possible,” he said finally, pointing toward me. “I’ve been listening to that one’s stomach grumble for miles now.”
I felt the blush rising in my cheeks almost before I could duck my head. Of course I knew that Kouje’s stomach must have been empty too, and that there was no shame in so simple a thing as hunger, but I couldn’t help wishing for a little more control over the noises that made it so evident to everyone else.
Kouje looked at me with uncertainty in his eyes for the first time. It was easier to believe that I was full when I had no one to contradict the lie of it.
Kichi sucked his teeth in a way that reminded me of a tutor I’d once had, and snapped his fingers. “Ah, so that’s the trouble, is it? No worries; I’ll cover the cost myself.”
“That’s not necessary,” Kouje began.
Kichi shook his head. “What kind of man would I be, letting a delicate little blossom like that starve? If you’re not careful, she’ll drop all her petals.”
“You’re too kind,” I murmured.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kouje bow his head, his jaw clenched tight against any further protest. I hoped he wouldn’t think the less of me for compromising his pride along with my own, but if there