Omei and Fumei had said nothing of their bridal tests—each one had come back that afternoon after spending a half hour with the lord, tossed their masks on the table, and returned to the room to change. They had been silent all throughout supper and went to bed without a word. It made me more nervous than I already was. If a Nageeya could fail, what was there left for me, a merchant's daughter?

I awoke earlier than I had intended to that day, possibly from my nervousness. I tried to fill the hours that went by with things that distracted me, like the seashell toss game, but everything brought my mind back to the thought of what I would have to go through.

To add onto all of that, my brain was filled with wondering about the conversation I had overheard between Hotaki and Lord Ashiro-han. What did Hotaki know about emptiness? What was it about his father he didn't want to speak of? And what did he mean about never being free?

Omei, Fumei and I played the seashell toss game while Amei went to see the lord; I was so distracted that Fumei snapped at me and took the beads I had been betting with, and kicked me out of the game. I went outside, putting my shoes on and being careful when I walked, as the rain from the day before had become a layer of ice over the stone in the garden.

The ice hung from the trees like tears, frozen in their fall to the ground. I shivered, tucking my robe tighter around me to minimize how much of my neck was exposed to the cold. The temperatures had dropped overnight, and my hope for an early spring was beginning to look bleak.

I wondered how my family was doing back on the mainland, and if Mother had told Yoshi of my being sent to Lord Ashiro-han's island. Perhaps even my brother would be proud of me if I became Lord Ashiro-han's wife. He lived in a different region, under the rule of a different lord, but he and I would be alike—both being servants of the lords of our regions.

That was only if I succeeded. I had promised Father not to fail, but it was hardly in my power. The final decision was Lord Ashiro-han's, not mine, and I had no idea if I would have been the ideal choice for a lord's bride.

A chirping broke me out of my thoughts. I lifted my head, wondering where it could have come from. I looked over the garden, hearing the chirping coming from the fountain. I hurried to the fountain, being careful not to slip like Amei had before she left (she had to go back inside and change into the robe Omei had worn, and was late for the test), and peered into the fountain. The rain that had fallen in the day before was now frozen, but I could see a little bird there, flapping one wing desperately. It was small, and had the appearance of a warbler, but its beak was bright red, and its feathers were black, shining with blue-green, and its stomach was white.

I reached for it, and it flapped in panic. It couldn't get away, and I suddenly realized that its other wing was trapped in the ice.

I stopped, and looked back at the house. "Wait here," I said to the bird, though it couldn't understand me, and there was really nowhere it could have gone. I hurried back to the house and went inside, forgetting to take off my shoes. I went past the two Nageeya playing their game and into the tiny kitchen where the servants had prepared our meals. The basin for washing dishes was still full of warm water, and I took a bowl, dipped it in the water, and carried the filled bowl outside, ignoring the questions from Omei and Fumei.

The bird panicked again when it saw me, but I got a firm grip on it without crushing its little body, and began to pour the warm water over the ice where the wing was trapped. The bird began to screech in terror, but its flapping and squirming helped free its wing from the ice. I poured the last of the warm water, and the bird freed itself from my hand, flying up and away from me into the pine trees.

"You're welcome," I said aloud, feeling a little better about myself. Father had always told me that the Creator smiled down on those who were kind to animals, and he had told me once of the old tales that spirits would conceal themselves as animals in need of help to test a human's kindness.

I wondered about the appearance of the bird. It was certainly like nothing I had seen before, but now it was gone.

I returned the bowl to the kitchen and went to the upstairs room, where Fumei was combing her hair. I stopped when I saw her, aiming to back out of the room, but she turned and saw me.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "Stop hanging about like a ghost."

I stood still, unsure of what I should have done. She snorted and continued combing her hair.

"You don't want to spend a moment alone with me, do you?" she asked.

I shook my head. "No," I replied.

"You don't like me?"

"I can't say if I like you or not," I said. "I've only known you for a few days, and you're making it dreadfully hard for me to like you."

She stopped and set the comb down. "I must admit that I am hard to like," she said.

I hesitated to answer. Her voice was softer, and I wondered if there was some reason she was so unlikeable. She shrugged and ran the comb through her hair again.

"I just hope that Lord Ashiro-han finds me as unlikeable as all you do," she said. "I don't want to be married to him."

"I promised my family I wouldn't fail," I said.

Fumei flicked her black eyes in my direction. "Is there a reason?"

I came forward and sat on my futon, watching the light shine on Fumei's hair. "Sometimes I feel like I can never make my family proud," I said. "Especially Mother. I feel like marrying the lord will make her see me as someone…someone worth something."

"You were the one whose family lost all their money."

My head jerked up. Fumei was grinning at me slyly.

"Word gets around. You were going to get married to someone, weren't you?"

I thought of Itsua-han—I hadn't thought of him since Hotaki's visit to my home. What was he doing now? I wondered if he was looking for another young bride fresh out of girlhood.

I wondered if Father had even told him of my acceptance to the lord's island.

"I was," I said.

"If you do succeed," Fumei said, "you'll be the woman of highest honor in our region. That's something to reach for."

"And you don't want it?"

Fumei shook her head. "No." She lifted her hair and twisted it onto her head, tying it with her ribbon in the butterfly hairstyle the Nageeya all wore. "I don't want to be a woman whose only worth is seen in how many children she can produce."

I paused, thinking on it. It was true—women in our land were mostly seen as a vessel to carry an heir. Lord Ashiro-han was only marrying because he was growing old, and needed to produce a son to carry on the rule of his region.

"Some people marry for love," I said. "My brother did." Which was true; he fell in love with his general's daughter before they were married, and the marriage was approved by both fathers.

"Nageeya don't."

I was about to reply when the door slid open and Amei came in, pulling her mask off her face. She threw it on her futon and began untying the sash on her robe, pulling her robe off in the process.

"You're back early. Are you crying?" Fumei asked.

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Amei flung the robe off her and crumpled onto her futon, burying her face in the pillow. A muffled sob sounded from her, and her shoulders shook.

Fumei rolled her eyes and whacked Amei with the comb. "Why are you crying?"

Amei lifted her head. "I don't want to marry him," she said. "He was horrible."

I felt my face go cold.

"Horrible how? He wasn't bad to me," Fumei said.

Amei wiped at her tears. "He…he told me I was clumsy. He said I needed to gather myself more. And I…I snapped at him, and he made me leave."

Fumei cackled. "You have some nerve to snap at a lord," she said.

"It's not something to laugh about!" Amei cried before burying her face in her pillow again. Fumei slapped Amei's behind with the comb.

"At least you won't be marrying him."

Komo entered the room. Fumei hit Amei to make her go silent as Komo's blank eyes went over the room.

"Yori?"

"Present," I said, my heart in my throat.

"You are going to go early, as Amei was dismissed earlier than attended. We are going to get ready."

I rose to my feet, my heart pounding in my chest. I glanced at Amei, weeping on her futon, and silently swore to Father that I would make it.

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The lord's garden sat in the center of the island, ringed by pine trees and a stone wall. The tea house sat in the back of the garden, facing the door in the wall, and a maze of platforms and sunken areas were all that remained of the flowers and bushes that filled the garden in the spring and summer months.

I knelt at the tea house, no shoes on my feet, shivering in the cold. The mask, painted with red lips and pink cheeks to look like a woman, complete with my number on the forehead, felt hot and stuffy despite the cold. I realized, with a start, that the last time I had worn a mask was at the funeral of the sixth wife. This time that I wore one, again, it was because of Lord Ashiro-han.

I heard the garden door creak open and quickly lowered my gaze so that I would not look at the lord. The faint sound of the wood sandals clacking on the stone met my ears, and though my eyes burned to see the wearer, I kept them locked at my knees.

The sound of the sandals drew closer, and two socked feet came into view, stopping just before me. I bent over and began to untie the thongs, my hands shaking as I thought of how close I was to Lord Ashiro-han. He took his feet from them once I was done, and I set his sandals aside. There was a silence between us, until his deep voice met my ears once again.

"In this garden, a flower between us must bloom."

I raised my eyes to his belt area, seeing his hands holding a small blue bowl. I lifted my hands to take it, racking my brain to remember what I was supposed to say.

"A seed must be planted for a flower to grow, and I am your garden, my lord."

I stood shakily, trying not to look at him, and reached behind me to open the door. It slid open easily, a wave of warm air hitting my back. I bowed, backing into the tea house, and turned to the side to set the bowl down. I turned back to him, feeling dread rush through me when I realized I had turned my back to him. He said nothing of it, and went to the table, and I followed him to help him out of his coat. I came around to his back, face-to-face with the white dragon. I reached up and ran my hands along his collar, gently pulling the coat off him. As I did so, I caught sight of a line of pink on the back of his neck that went up into his hairline.

A scar?

I hung the coat by the door as he took his seat. Of course he would have some reminder of the war, I thought. My father's father had burn scars on his face. It was nothing unique, but the shape of the lord's scar raised questions in my brain.

I returned to the table and knelt at his right side, so close I could feel the warmth from him. I dropped the tea leaves in the boiling water, my hands still shaking, and stirred it with the wooden stick, the spiced scent of whatever leaf it was reaching my nose despite the mask. After a few stirs, I knew from instinct that the tea was ready, and took the long, deep spoon with the holes in it to fish out the leaves before I served the lord his tea.

He took the cup as I handed it to him, and I caught sight of the inside of his left forearm, and the faded tattoos there. I almost dropped the cup, but caught myself before I did. Six small family zodiac symbols looked back at me, and for a moment, I wondered what my father's dolphin would look like there.

He held the cup in his hands, and I found my throat dry. It would have been nice to moisten it with tea, but I could not remove my mask in his presence.

"You are the last of the women here?" he asked, breaking the silence, and making me jump in surprise.

"Yes, my lord," I said in return, my voice sounding small and weak to me.

"You seem tense."

I didn't know what to say in reply; under my mask, I bit my lip.

He lifted his tea up and out of my view. I found my gaze following his hands, and quickly looked away before I could see his face. His hands were large, his arms of lean muscle, and I found myself suddenly afraid of him.

"Why did you come here to my island?"

"It wasn't my decision, my lord," I said.

He was silent for a few seconds. "If you had made your own decision, would you have come?"

I couldn't answer. I hung my head. "I don't know, my lord."

"Do you want to marry me?"

Before I could think up of an answer, I blurted out, "No, my lord." I raised my hand to my mouth, my fingers hitting the wood of the mask, and looked away.

"No?" His tone of voice sounded like amusement, but I couldn't have told without looking at his face. "Honesty is not a sin. It is rather valuable, though one must learn to not be so blunt answering in truth."

"Of course, my lord," I said. My face burned under the mask. I shouldn't have spoken too soon.

"I suppose, then, that you wouldn't have come here through of your own free will."

"No, my lord," I said.

He raised his tea to his mouth again. I glanced at his free hand, resting on the table, and thought of how it was the same hand that had caught that lily I dropped. I almost wanted to speak to him of it, but it would have seemed foolish. He had looked up at me, and not just in my direction.

A silence fell between us again, and as I served the lord's second cup of tea, I found myself thinking of how no one seemed willing to give me specifics of what kind of man he was. Hotaki had simply given me the 'he is kind' talk, seeming discomforted when I asked what he was like. I wanted to know about Hotaki—why did he speak of his own father in such a way as I had overheard?

"What is it that is most important to you?"

"My lord?" I glanced in his direction, once again stopping myself before I looked at his face.

"I asked this question of the women who came before you. What do you hold most important to you?"

I hesitated. As a child, I had never thought much of it. What was important to me was simply honoring my family's decision to marry me off to Itsua. For nine years, since I was nine years old, that had been the only thing on my mind, aside from the sorrow I felt knowing that I wouldn't leave my region. I looked at my hands, soft and smooth from years of no hard labor, and back at the lord's rough, square hands.

"I never gave it much thought, my lord," I said. "For half my life I was only concerned with honoring my family's decisions for my life." I folded my hands. "And again, here in your company, I wish not to bring humiliation to my family a second time."

"A second time?"

My face burned, and I was glad that I had the mask on. "I was going to be married to a man I didn't want to marry, my lord," I said. "I prayed that I wouldn't. My parents were furious with me, and I promised my mother that…that I would bring honor to the family, even if it means marrying you against my will. While it isn't in my power to ensure that, and it's not my decision, I am terrified to go home and fail."

I could feel tears welling in my eyes, and I clenched my jaw to keep from letting a sob come out. I turned my face away from him, even though he couldn't see me anyway behind my mask. I reached up under my mask to wipe at my eyes, ashamed that I would let myself cry in his presence.

"The Creator answers prayers the way the Creator sees fit," Lord Ashiro-han said. "I don't think that it was wrong that you prayed that you wouldn't marry a man you didn't want to marry."

I turned back in his direction.

"You will bring honor to your family somehow," he said. "Even if you do not succeed with this test, there is always another way to make your family proud."

I didn't say anything. I had intended on running away should I have failed the lord's test, so my family would never have to look at my dishonorable face again.

"I think I have had enough tea," he said. He stood, and I rose with him, heading to the door to fetch his coat. I helped him into it, studying each thread of the dragon embroidered on the back, wondering if it would make it onto my own skin. I went to the door before him, sliding it open with my head bowed. The tears were still running down my face, but it was fortunate that the lord couldn't see.

He came to the door and stopped, his hand on the doorway. I could tell he was looking at me, so I kept my head lowered. I felt his fingers on my chin, lifting my face.

"Look at me," he said.

My heart hammering, I raised my eyes to his face. I tried not to gasp. The first time I had seen his face…it was nothing like I had pictured in my mind. His eyes were what I had remembered from all those years ago—dark and full of the same kind of sadness that I had felt dropping those lilies. What surprised me was that he was so much younger than I had first thought—he could have been no more than ten years Hotaki's senior. Despite that, he looked aged, worn, like a man who had seen more than a man his age should have seen. I cannot say if I found him handsome, but there was something in his face that made me not want to tear my eyes away. His hand was still on my chin, and as he looked into my eyes, his thick brows drew together, making a knot between them.

"I have seen those eyes before," he said.

I lowered them away from him, and he released my face. He bowed to me, surprising me again, and I bowed in return.

"Thank you," was all he said. He turned and went through the door.

I stood in the doorway, watching him as he walked away. Once he had left the garden, I stepped back into the teahouse to wait for Komo to return. My legs gave out underneath me, and I crumpled to my knees. I pulled my mask off and laid my head on the table. I reached for the cup of tea which he had not finished and cradled it in my hands.

Had he made the Nageeya look at him? Something stirred inside me; gooseflesh crept up my arms and back. He had recognized my eyes. It was impossible; he could not have seen my eyes from the distance of the balcony all those years ago.

But he knew them. He claimed he had seen them before—but with eyes as plain as mine, he could have been thinking of anyone.

He was so young…

I closed my eyes and let the remainder of my tears fall onto the table, not moving until Komo came into the tea house to escort me back to the guest quarters.