We traveled for several days, stopping at respectable roadside inns for rest and baths. At every stop, the rumors of war fell softly from the lips of road-weary travelers passing through. We heard these rumors everywhere, but no one seemed to know, or perhaps they dared not speak of, any rebel clan’s uprising. Shogunate armies stood sentry at every town, but no conflict ever stirred.

No threat had ever surfaced in more than two decades since Okugawa had defeated the warring clans. Even the so-called Spider Clan and their allies had long since bowed to the superior strength of the Okugawa Ruling House. And in the midst of these rumors, I sensed no real threat from anyone. The tension was all to a different tendency.

* * *

I’d no idea how long we were to be away. I guessed it only after arriving at the mountain inn when Madame’s trunks, which she had sent from her residence in town, arrived.

“Madame,” I asked. “Can you really want all of these trunks?”

“You never know. There are many buyers here in town. Now go with my maid and she will perform your cosmetic.”

I knelt while Madame’s maid coiffed my hair and painted my face. It was an ordeal, and when she was finished, I declined even a peek in the glass. I didn’t expect to see myself there, and didn’t wish to become any more self-conscious than I already was, robed head to toe in fine silk. But I remembered Yoshi’s childhood prophesy: Someday, you will dress in the silk you reel. Had he known what he said? How could he have?

Madame nodded the briefest approval of me before we walked to the street and found a driver to carry us up a winding road to Nobu’s castle. Master Nobu’s domain was among the largest and highest producing domains of the region. As we alighted from our small carriage and gazed up at the grand castle with rice fields terracing the mountainside, I felt grateful, at last, for my opaque cosmetic, a mask behind which I could see so much of what I had wondered about for so long, and I was quite sure Ansei would never recognize me, dressed and painted as I was.

I followed Madame Sato up the stairs, and through the Anseito toriire gate toward a castle. My breath froze in my chest at the sight of it. This place looked like a famous temple more than a residence.

The roof, by itself, was enormous, tiled in clay and elaborately hipped and gabled with serpents peering wary-eyed from lofty perches. Broad wooden beams supported deep hanging eaves. It had an otherworldly quality, high atop the mountain and surrounded all around in the lush green of late summer.

I wanted to stare open mouthed at the castle, but I lowered my gaze. It was easy to feel humble, but impossible to appear inconspicuous, clad as I was in the green brocade that shone with each new bend of the light.

A servant announced us, and we bowed low before our hosts. Lady Nobu received us, flanked by three daughters, all finely dressed and impeccably groomed. I averted my gaze, but nearly burst with curiosity. I had imagined what they were like so many times—had even allowed myself to feel jealous of their proximity to the man who I loved.

They were, by reputation, very beautiful and accomplished women, and I wanted to know how well they answered the multicolored stories about them, but I kept my face so studiously averted, that I didn’t even once look up, until at last Madame introduced me. I nearly stumbled across the silk carpet in shock and confusion when she did.

“Please meet my only daughter, Sato Fuyuko.”

Heat burned through the powder on my cheeks, and I trained my eyes once again on the floor. What? Oh, what had Madame said?

She had claimed I was her only daughter—not her friend, Junko Yamada—her daughter, who had died only one year prior. A girl who would be a mere seventeen years old and an accomplished musician. How could I be that? What was Madame doing?

Not trusting myself to meet a scrutinizing pair of eyes, I kept mine averted the entire morning. Outwardly, I managed a wooden formality. But inwardly, I fumed at Madame. How dared she do this to me? To make me her young daughter was an outright betrayal of our understanding. It put me off balance and changed my relationship toward everyone. I was no longer the older, spinster friend of Madame Sato. I would suddenly be a peer to Nobu’s daughters. They might expect me to interact with them. They might expect me to play the koto, or know all manner of things a noble’s daughter should know.

Worse, they would think me a noble girl of marriageable age! A busy body matchmaker woman might make reports of me to other marriageable noblemen. This thought was horrifying to me, and I sat rigid in seiza, fuming at Madame Sato, unable to respond or attend to what was being said. I sat paralyzed for too long, and my silence was interpreted as disgust. A servant swept up my tea and replaced it with another cup of a different brew.

Madame stole a quick glance at me, eyes cool, but I read what they said: compose yourself and drink tea as I taught you to.

It took everything I had to bring that porcelain cup to my lips. How I tried to train my eyes and ears to a proper focus! How I steeled myself for questioning. How I urged my hands not to tremble, my head not to throb, my heartbeat not to race.

Others were in attendance. I hardly caught the names or faces. A wealthy merchant from the capital. An artisan weaver of excellent reputation. Another three noble women of some significant fashion. A neighboring samurai’s famous geisha. A Nagaishi Clan samurai—one of The Ruling House’s most formidable enemies prior to unification. (I thought his presence strange, but Madame Sato showed little interest in him.) All were attending a silk festival later that week, and all seemed to know each other by reputation, if not more personally.

I hardly knew what was discussed. Pleasantries between company. The weather. Talk of expected marriages and anticipated artistic events. Someone expressed interest in hearing one of the Nobu daughters play the koto. There was talk of rising artists in relation to silk embroidery and weaving. Here, someone mentioned Madame.

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“We look forward to seeing some samples of this season’s fabric,” Lady Nobu said.

“Yes, of course. I have brought some of my favorite pieces. I will show them tomorrow, if you like.”

Lady Nobu assented with a graceful sweep of one hand. Then she proposed a walk in the garden.

We followed Lady Nobu out onto a stone walk, which circled the house, connecting it with a garden teahouse. A garden pavilion stood next to a lovely koi pond ornamented all around with stone lanterns, minutely pruned pines and boxwoods and elaborately combed gravel paths. I had never seen a garden more lovely.

When we entered, I could no longer wonder in what capacity Ansei served Master Nobu. Of course, he was here. His presence was everywhere. I saw it in the bonsai, in the cultivation of the herb garden, even in the way he had trimmed the conifer bushes.

“You obviously care more for the garden than the house interior,” came a young female voice at my side.

I started and returned my eyes to my feet. The eldest Nobu daughter had sidled up beside me. “Don’t worry. There’s no crime in appreciating a garden. Ours are quite fine, I think.”

“I have hardly ever seen anything so lovely.”

“We have an excellent gardener.”

“You must have. And you would be rightly proud of his work.”

“Would you like to go have a look at the outer tea house? It has a charming view of the pond and a cherry orchard on its far side.”

I agreed at once.

“Fuyuko, I am Kiyo,” she reminded me, as she gestured to a left veering footpath. “Your kimono is exquisite. I have not seen anything quite like it. Do you know the name of the weaver?”

I offered a vague shrug. “I cannot say. And it is not so fine as what you are wearing.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, and I could tell she didn’t think me sincere. “Oh, indeed my robe is good enough, but don’t suppose you and your mother will be able to keep your silk protégés to yourselves for long. Many people are wondering.”

I shivered, knowing I had every intention of keeping my work a secret, but I saw, too, what Madame’s separate determination had done already to my resolve. What more would I yet reveal? What would Madame reveal in my behalf?

We walked on and came to the teahouse, planted around with peonies. Kiyo glanced behind her and whispered, “Don’t be uncomfortable, but we are being watched.”

I followed her gaze. “What do you mean?”

“It is my governess. She follows me everywhere I go, even within the house, but especially within the garden.”

“Are you so little trusted?” I bit my tongue as soon as I said it.

Kiyo sniffed. “I’m so highly rated.”

“Of course, you are,” I strove to recover. “Mad—Mother leaves me for days, even weeks, at a stretch. But we have so few servants.”

“Servants are not to be trusted,” Kiyo said, and her voice was heavy with implied meaning.

“I hope your gardener is above reproach. You said your governess followed you everywhere within the garden—and it is so beautiful.”

“No indeed, our gardener is not. The machi bugyo himself escorted him here to labor on the farm under suspicion of violent crime against a woman.” She watched my face for a trace of impact. I must have gratified her because she flashed a satisfied smile.

I shook my head in feigned shock. “Was anything proven?”

“No. And obviously my father doesn’t believe it, or he would never permit the man’s service so close to the house. But he’s a great favorite among the servants, and even among my mother’s friends. They all covet our garden,” she said with a sly glance at me.

She reached for a small bell set upon a table and rang it once. “You’ll understand in a moment.”

I held my breath as Ansei entered the teahouse through a side door and bowed low to Kiyo. He did not seem to know me and realizing this, I breathed my first breath.

“My honored guest Sato Fuyuko has much praise for your work in the garden,” Kiyo said.

“I am a poor servant,” Ansei said, eyes strictly averted. When he still betrayed no sign of recognition, I took my second breath.

“The cut flowers are dry. Take a vase and water them.”

I could see Kiyo liked to issue orders, perhaps to all her servants, but certainly to Ansei. As he worked, she watched him with an intensity of scrutiny that made my spine go rigid.

“When you are finished with the flowers, pour tea. Quickly.”

We watched him perform every instruction with the attention and silence of a housemaid. His rough hands now soft on delicate porcelain. His height now bent low in servitude.

I was suddenly aware of Kiyo’s gaze on me. “Oh! But you don’t care for tea,” she said, hand flying to her small mouth. “Find my guest something less offensive at once.”

“No indeed, I like it,” I insisted.

But Kiyo would not allow me to drink it. “Find something foreign, maybe. My guest has sophisticated taste.”

Ansei hastened to produce a chrysanthemum tea to satisfy Kiyo’s command. I did not know how he bore this, but he had always had this unique quality of vulnerable strength.

Finally, Kiyo dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

“So, you see, he may garden tolerably, but he makes a miserable cup of tea. You cannot have everything, can you?”

“I am sure we would be well pleased to have him—if you are unsatisfied. Our gardens need so much attention,” I hastened to add, “Mother is always saying so.”

“Oh, I don’t think Father would part with the rogue.” She cast me another sly smile. “But I may be able to arrange a private liaison, if you like.”

I almost dropped my cup of tea. Had I been so transparent? “I don’t understand,” I stammered.

“Be assured, no one need know.” Her eyes widened in a show of sincerity.

I detected something false in her assurances, but even with my suspicion, I was tempted and couldn’t decline immediately.

“He’s only a servant. But he has the look of someone highborn, doesn’t he?”

“I do not know.”

“Some people suppose they know, and spread all kinds of rumors about him: saying he is not a nameless slave at all but the son of Nagaishi clan leader, but I don’t believe a word of it.”

I tried to affect only mild interest, though I’m sure I failed. “What more do they say about him?”

“I see you, like everyone, love a scandal and will never let a good one die!”

I swallowed. “Perhaps it isn’t really a scandal at all.”

“Of course, it is, and I will not make you beg to hear it.” Kiyo lowered her voice conspiratorially. “They say, twenty years ago, the second son of the clan’s leader ran away with a foreign woman of famed beauty. He spent everything he had on her and then died mysteriously before the birth of their child. The family disowned him, of course, but the child seems to appear and disappear and some people believe there is something not quite right about him.”

“What do you mean, ‘not quite right’?”

Kiyo yawned. “That’s where I quit listening. Who would believe stories about mysticism and that kind of nonsense?”

I let go of a nervous laugh. “Mysticism? No one in her right mind.”

“People are so stupid,” Kiyo giggled. “But rumors do make you wonder, don’t they? You are wondering now. I can see it in your face!”

The heat rose in my cheeks and I hated myself for it.

“You are still such a child. Aren’t you but seventeen? Your kimono makes you look so much more mature than you are, but no doubt you need to learn some wisdom of the world. Think about what I said.”

We returned to the greater house and joined the company soon after, but I couldn’t regain even the appearance of composure.

Somehow, in the process of becoming Madame Sato’s only daughter, Kiyo had come to regard me as a rival—a rival she was already bent upon baiting. And worse, she had found my weakness with the insight of a true mystic.