The elderly courtier’s advice was rash. Following it risked every measure of friendship I had painstakingly created with the Princess. Transgressing the rules of court to achieve the Princess’s trust? She might have me thrown out! At best, I would be warned, censured, and then isolated and watched. But for my own reasons, I knew I would do it.

Even while I rejected the idea, a crisp vision of my transgression appeared in my mind’s eye. I constantly heard the old woman’s instructions echoing in my brain—not for the sake of the Princess’s redemption, but for my own knowledge and ultimate survival.

I was blind to the forces directing my life. And what value to me was a Princess’s tepid friendship? Ansei had not come. If I were to survive, I needed to be more than an accomplished weaver of silk. I must be indispensable to someone far more powerful than myself. Whatever damage I inflicted must be a light matter next to my value. Pretty silk would not compensate for poison.

However unlikely, the old courtier knew something—perceived something in her blindness that the rest of court couldn’t see. She knew the powers that allied with the Emperor against the Shogunate. She detected the ebb and flow of rebellion. Not by direct information, or even intuition. She read the tension between people, as I read the tension between threads of fabric. The urgency in her grip traveled up my arm beyond my shoulder and into my heart, until a plan to approach the Princess in violation of court rules became all I ever thought of. Friendship wasn’t enough for me. I must earn my way to secrets, as well.

Illness had caused me to doubt my own mind before. I had reason to doubt it again as I prepared to tempt the court with behavior likely to have me exiled, but to continue as I was without intervention was also a risk. I would take the steps my instincts were urging.

Early morning, before the sun was up, I would dress and trespass into the inner court alone. I had watched, and knew the moment when I might sneak past the guard stationed by the gate to the inner palace. I knew the court well enough to chart a course, and thought I might reach as far as the Ogakumonjou before being apprehended. If I could get beyond it, I might go further yet, perhaps into the Dairi where the Princess would still be sleeping.

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The family should be asleep when I was arrested and detained. I would not risk meeting the Princess somewhere by day. This would force a confrontation before she had fully considered the implications of my disobedience, and if anything, I depended upon her thoughtful consideration.

She must interpret my disobedience as the old courtier had suggested. She must see my willingness to offend court rules, and perceive my act as loyal to her, individually. This was a tenuous distinction, but I trusted its necessity. Rebellion courted rebellion. The Princess needed someone she knew she could trust as she contemplated committing her own offenses.

Dressed in the costume of a maidservant, and in the pre-dawn morning light, I passed through the gate, escaping observation. I walked my morning path through the garden, and this should have been provocative. Dressed as a house servant, I would have no reason to be there, but no one disturbed me. I walked on and reached the Ogakumonjou. Here, I broke the affectation of a servant, and looked behind me. Astonished, to find my path vacant, I paused, took a deep breath, and took the pathway toward the Dairi, where the Princess slept.

I stared up ponderously at the stately structure. I had never been inside it. The Princess and I were not on such close terms as to give me access there. The air in my throat caught, and I swallowed it hard while I ascended the broad steps, rising slowly above each step as though I were shod in lead. The imperial residence was manned. And I stared at the guards, wondrous, expectant. They didn’t seem to see me.

I removed my sandals at the threshold and placed them neatly inside a large cupboard of red lacquer, then I surveyed my surroundings. I was forced to guess the direction of the Princess’s’ quarters. To stray into the Emperor’s own room, I believed, would leave the Princess no avenue for intervention on my behalf. It would mean my death.

I approached an elegant dining room with a mahogany table set with imported, blown glass goblets. I passed my fingertips over the velvet finish of a sideboard, trimmed in ebony, and padded deeper into the residence. I reached a narrow hallway flanked by a bank of closed doors and stopped. A hand reached from behind me and grasped my right shoulder.

I spun and caught the recognizing glance of a high servant before being seized and held by the paralyzing hold of the palace guards.