Later, Sabrina slipped into the teahouse garden, the cool air a relief from the stifling crowd. The lanterns swayed gently, their light flickering on the stones at her feet. She stood near a small koi pond, the hum of cicadas and distant voices a soothing backdrop.

“You hide well,” came a voice, low and rich.

Sabrina turned quickly, finding Miura standing just beyond the light. Up close, the courtesan was even more striking, her beauty as precise and deliberate as a blade.

“I needed air,” Sabrina said, her voice too soft.

“And yet you do not leave,” Miura observed, stepping closer. Her kimono seemed to glow faintly in the dim light, the black fabric deep as the night sky. “Why?”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Sabrina’s mouth opened, but the words caught in her throat. How could she explain the weight of expectation, of confinement? How could she admit that she’d followed Miura’s every movement since she entered the room?

Miura tilted her head, her painted lips curving into a faint smile. “You don’t belong here,” she said, her English accented but deliberate.

“No,” Sabrina admitted, looking away. “I don’t.”

“And yet you stay,” Miura murmured, her gaze softening. “Perhaps you’re more like me than you realize.” The words sent a shiver down Sabrina’s spine.

Miura stepped closer, close enough that Sabrina could smell the faint perfume of plum blossoms.

“I should go,” Sabrina whispered, though her feet didn’t move.

“Do as you wish,” Miura said, her voice a delicate challenge. “But if you stay, perhaps we can both stop pretending.”

The air between them was taut with something unspoken, something dangerous. Sabrina felt the pull of it as surely as the tide, and when Miura turned and walked toward the shoji screens, she found herself following.

For the first time in her life, Sabrina Timberlake didn’t look back.