“About your friend,” Kouje began, then stopped himself. “And the noodles…”
Inokichi shrugged it off, and when he turned, he was smiling his monkey smile. “A man’s got to protect a lady like that, brother. I can’t say I blame you for getting a mite carried away.”
“Thank you,” Kouje said, the words as heartfelt as I’d ever heard them.
Kichi nodded. “Good luck at the crossing. Maybe we’ll meet up again in the next life, hey, brother?”
“Thank you, Inokichi,” I said, wishing I could have offered him more.
He grinned and winked at me, then glanced at Kouje to make sure he’d given no offense before speaking again. “Not every day you get to help a lady out. Just think of old Kichi the next time you’re at a roadside shrine, right? I didn’t do it for anything but that ladylike smile.”
“Thank you,” Kouje managed, when I nudged him in the ribs with my elbow. And then, just like that, Inokichi was gone, sauntering down the street and leading the two horses behind him.
Kouje helped me onto our mount, then swung into the saddle behind me. I could see where his knuckles were bruised and cracked from the day’s activity, and felt a pang of regret that I’d ever reacted to Jiang’s wandering hands at all.
“What now?” I asked, looking toward the wall. It loomed overhead. Somewhere in the distance children were laughing—perhaps still playing their game of Lord Kouje and Prince Mamoru.
“I’ll think of something,” Kouje said. Then, against the back of my neck, he added fiercely, “I swear it.”
All his good intentions, I thought privately, did little when we were faced with that wall. My brother’s men were waiting to find me and, if I knew my brother, they were getting more thorough and more ruthless with each passing day. We had no time to waste. Yet I bit my tongue and said nothing as Kouje nudged the horse into a trot beneath us and led us soberly away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CAIUS
Alcibiades deserved something special, I thought. After all, he’d only just narrowly escaped being killed by the Emperor. Anyone in his position would have needed a bit of perking up, me included. And even though Alcibiades hadn’t spoken of it since, I was determined to make things up to him.
“Go on,” I said, watching his face eagerly for some reaction other than mulish brooding. “Open it.”
“It’s not snakes, is it?” he asked.
Wherever did he get those ridiculous ideas? One had to wonder about his countryside upbringing. “Is that a custom among farmers?” I asked. “Wrap snakes up in boxes and give them to their friends? I’m not entirely sure I like it. Wouldn’t it be better suited for your enemies?”
Alcibiades snorted. “So long as it’s not something alive,” he muttered ungraciously.
“Not last I checked, no,” I said, trying my best to placate him. “Come now, or we’ll be late for supper.”
“Hm,” was all Alcibiades deigned to grace me with before he tore into the wrapping paper without any ceremony. He was an awful brute sometimes, in need of far better training. Poor Yana. I sympathized with her deeply.
It had been awfully hard to come by, mostly because I’d needed to guess at Alcibiades’ measurements. I’d thought about sneaking in to his room at night with some measuring tape, but one could never trust Alcibiades to react like a normal person under the circumstances. He was as angry as fire ants.
“It’s… cloth,” Alcibiades said finally, pushing aside all the extra wrapping paper. “Red cloth.” The Ke-Han were exquisite gift-givers; the paper was thick, brocaded, shot with flashes of silver and gold. I’d gone for something particularly ostentatious, since Alcibiades was a simple man and might have been swayed by bright colors or the like.
“You’re being deliberately obtuse, my dear, and it’s making it very hard for me to be gracious,” I said. “You might try unfolding it.”
Alcibiades looked, at least momentarily, appropriately sheepish, and did as he was asked. Perhaps I might shame him into proper etiquette yet, though who could tell how long it would take to teach this old dog a few new tricks?
“It’s a coat,” Alcibiades said, unfurling it like a war banner. “A red coat.”
I didn’t think he would appreciate it if I told him how expensive the fabric was, and how delicate, and so I merely said: “Please, my dear, try not to wrinkle it. I thought you might wear it tonight.”
“But it’s red,” Alcibiades said blankly.
“Well, you insist upon wearing the color anyway,” I pointed out. “And