Remember Me by Brien Feathers

Author:Brien Feathers [Brien Feathers]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-11-17T00:00:00+00:00

seventeen

Sailor’s Knot

The Ono and the Shimura were birds of the same feather. They didn’t allow an unwed noble woman to show her face to men, and Ayame had to wear a hat and drape a veil over her face, negating all the hard work Hana did fixing her hair. The veil was thin, just posture really, and Ayame could make out the men as shapes in the flickering torches.

They were outside in the orchard in front of Moonlight and all the Ishii bujin had come out in their armor because there were mounted men with sharp sticks on their lord’s lawn.

Goodnight and Koba had a disagreement. Lord Koba insisted armor was an aggressive, rude, and unnecessary way of greeting guests.

‘Well, an arrow to the face is also aggressive, rude, and unnecessary, Lord Koba,’ Goodnight had said. ‘Us standing in fine silk like some damsels while they are mounted and armored, that’s not happening, Lord Koba. I apologize, but I’d rather be rude than dead any day.’ So full gear it was, including the war masks.

Lady Momo had cut her hair because she was now a widow, and she bowed deeply to both Sora and Koba, the sons of the man who burned her house down. The Ono crest was blue with intertwined rings. They only had thirty somewhat bujin with them, and their lord was an old man with excessive layers of silk that ballooned in the draft. Old, Ayame imagined because of his voice, but his face was a blur.

“Honorable Mother. Lord Ono Dai.” Ayame bowed.

“Faithful daughter,” Lady Momo greeted her, and Ayame nearly collapsed with shock.

They commenced the ritualized greetings, bows, and customary words to say when visiting someone’s home versus when an honored guest arrived. Perhaps Lord Dai didn’t want to challenge the Ishii, calling their daughter an imposter, or more likely, they were up to some sort of scheme. Whatever the reason was, they treated Ayame like a proper daughter of Shimura during the initial exchange.

After that, Ayame threw away the hat and went up to the women’s quarters so the men could talk about whatever they did. Koba and Sora were handling it.

She returned to her room expecting a frustratingly uneventful night, but all the lanterns were snuffed and Lord Kyuzo was standing by her window, cracked open a few inches, and peering out. In the pale moonlight, he was a silhouette.

“You don’t resemble your mother,” he said without turning as Ayame closed the door. “And Dai didn’t age well.” The greeting party and the guests were still out on the lawn. “Look at him. He’s grown wider than Eclipse is tall. I suppose he came on an oxcart because no horse in Nara can carry such a load.”

Ayame embraced him from behind, his warmth and scent dizzying her. She buried her face between his shoulder blades.

“Never mind them,” she whispered, biting his shoulder a bit too hard and making him jerk. Among the wisteria, he’d had trousers over his short robe, calling for numerous

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