"No, not that way," I told him. Souichi glanced up from the parchment to meet my gaze. "You almost have them all, but the 'd' and the 'b' are wrong." I took the charcoal stick he'd used in place of a pen and wrote the two letters properly. "Like that. You had them both going the same way. Their shape is similar, but overall they're not the same."

"They look the same," he mumbled. He snatched the stick back and rewrote the letters next to mine, albeit messier. "There. Better?"

I nodded. "But you're not done."

He blinked. "What?"

"Write them again."

Two more letters appeared on the paper.

"No, not those. All of them. Do the entire thing over again."

His eyes went wide. "What? Why? You said they were nearly all correct!"

"They are, but that's not why I want you to rewrite them. If you do it repeatedly, it'll become a permanent part of your memory. That's how I learned, so it's the way that I'll teach you. This is all I plan on doing for tonight."

"Just this?" he asked. "Why? I won't read until I'm eighty at this pace! You're going too slow!"

I sighed. "I'm not doing it to torture you, Sou—Senpai." It felt so odd calling him that after so long. "You can't learn anything more advanced without a solid foundation to stand upon.

He glared. "You could still teach me more than just letters," he spat.

"I could," I agreed. "But then you'd get lost and become even more frustrated than you are right now. I'm going slowly so that you actually learn what I'm teaching you. Don't take it as an insult or offensive. I'm just trying to teach you in a way that works."

Though not by much, his glare softened. He flipped the piece of parchment over and started writing the alphabet once more. I smiled softly as I watched him write. No matter how tyrannical he was, nor how many time he'd threatened to hang me from the battlements, as a student he was adorable. While he exuded anger and frustration, he was eager to learn. A blind man could see that easily. But he wasn't frustrated at me. Rather, his frustration stemmed from not being able to read and needing these lessons in the first place. I felt bad for him. I'd learned when I was a child, around five years old, and at this point in my life I couldn't imagine not being able to read. It was such an important skill in life; how could anyone go so long without learning?

But of course anger, frustration, and eagerness weren't the only emotions he exuded. His eyes, stuck to the paper like brick to cement, hid it well, but I could see it easily. Timidly standing behind its older brothers, embarrassment dripped off of him in tiny droplets. I understood, though I didn't know nearly as well as he did how he felt. But being taught at twenty-five—at least, I think that was his age—by someone younger than him had to be embarrassing.

And saddening.

"Do you want to continue tomorrow?" I asked tentatively.

He glanced up from his charcoal-stained hand. "What? Why?"

"Well...I'm not going to do much else here. I don't plan on introducing anything to you until tomorrow, so there's no point in me sitting here, nor any point in you staying here. I can tell that you're tired and bored, too. So if you want, we can end this session now and then continue tomorrow. Or another day, depending on what you want to do."

He nodded and set the stick down. "So I'll just practice this until then?"

"Preferably. I'd like you to have memorized it all by the time we meet again. Which will be…?" I trailed off to let him finish.

Souichi stared at the ceiling in thought. "Hmm...probably not tomorrow…" He tapped his finger on his leg. "Two days from now. That way they're spaced out and suspicion's lowered."

"All right." I rose from the floor, and he followed suit. "We'll do pronunciation then. That way you'll look at them as sounds rather than just symbols for things you don't understand. Once that's done, you'll be able to read most things. Or, at least, you'll be able to figure out what the majority of them say."

He nodded as he approached the door, but before he turned the knob, he stopped. I tilted my head to the side.

"Something wrong?" I asked.

His hesitance was obvious. "I, uh...I don't have to pay you, right? It's already covered from yesterday?"

I sighed; that was what I'd forgotten! "I've thought about that."

He turned to look at me. "And how have you thought about it?"

"Somewhat deeply."

He leaned against the door and gestured for me to continue.

"Well, ideally, you'd pay me after each single session we have—"

"My body would fall apart within the first five days," he interrupted severely.

"I know," I assured. "Just listen. It should work that way, but as you said, you wouldn't be able to handle it. Not only that, someone's bound to notice that I'm gone from my cell if we do it that often, so suspicions will arise and you'll be questioned. So it can't work that way."

"And your solution is?"

"I was thinking that you pay me once a week."

Souichi stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Twice a month," he countered.

I knew this would happen. "Once a week," I repeated firmly.

"Three times a month," he responded, even firmer.

I held his gaze for a solid five minutes, but in a casual mood I wasn't persuasive. "All right," I replied. "Three times a month." He made to leave, but I stopped him when he'd turned the knob halfway. "But…"

His silver-haired head turned at a snail's pace. "But…?"

"But, I get to choose what three times."

"Deal," he replied.

I smiled, a little smugly. There were about four weeks in each month, so what he'd offered was essentially the same as what I had. But this way he was at least a little more accepting of what was happening.

"We'll be in the same place, then?" I asked.

"Yeah. Same time, too. Just stagger the days."

"All right. I'll create some sort of schedule for us to follow. That way you can organize lessons around whatever you do normally."

"That's the most logical thing you've said thus far," he mumbled. "Follow me. I'll take you back to my cell."

Victory was mine!

Or, at least, partially mine.

The situation was still undesirable, but at least I didn't have to pay him as much as I'd suspected. Any little victory against him was worthy of a celebration. Hell, any victory against any noble was worthy of a week-long festival. Especially against a prince who belonged to that family.

Morinaga's presence gave me enough anxiety, but the fact that he was behind me, so easily able to attack, set me on edge. I could drive my blade through him here. Then anyone could be pinned with the crime. But that'd be childish and impulsive. Most of all, it was outright foolish. While as slow as a crippled snail. he was a fair teacher. I didn't want to throw 'nice' in front of his name yet. Deception ran through royals veins alongside shrewdness and the color purple.

But I was learning from him, and I did want to complete my studies before making any decisions. Perhaps I'd wait until after I'd learned from him. Or maybe I wouldn't even have to bother. Messengers would probably retrieve his bastardly ass before I'd finished learning.

"Senpai?"

I glanced over my shoulder. "What do you want?"

"How's, uh...your body? Are you still sore, or…?"

I returned my gaze forward, mostly due to the heat burning my cheeks. "A little, but it's bearable," I replied hurriedly. "It was worse earlier."

"Ah."

Why was he doing this? Why was he, someone so lascivious and hypnotizing, showing this kind of concern? Why didn't he have that dark glint in his hazel eyes rather than that boyish innocence? That side of him sickened me, but at least it wouldn't lure me into a sense of false hope. During the lesson I'd almost been foolish enough to engage in conversation with him. But then my insides throbbed, and I'd remembered what he'd become the night before.

"I'm sorry," Morinaga said.

The words jolted me but not physically. "For what?"

"For hurting you," he replied. "I was really trying to be gentle, but...I got carried away. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

My eyes shifted to my feet. He sounded like a little boy apologizing to his mother; not a prince talking to a bandit. My hate for him grew with each passing second. Why was he so confusing? Why couldn't he be one personality? Why did he have to be split in two?

"You're so considerate," I grumbled.

"I try to be. My family isn't the kindest group, so I make efforts to—"

"I don't need your philosophical bullshit," I cut in. "Shout kindness to the world, but don't shout it to me."

He went quiet at that, and he remained that way for nearly the full trip back to the cells. But after I'd locked him back in his cage like the animal he was, Morinaga smiled and said, "I hope you sleep well. You look exhausted."

I probably did, even if I'd slept for most of the day. I grunted in reply before leaving him alone.

Insomnia was a clingy woman. She must've liked second-born princes, too, since she'd been my unofficial mattress-mate for the past few days. Though she was pesky, she did keep my mind on Souichi. But rather than how much I wanted his body, my thoughts lingered on what lay within him.

He was very much like a rose, beautiful on the outside but covered in so many thorns that trying to grasp him was akin to grasping a knife. But I didn't mind a few cuts on my palm. I'd received far worse, both physically and emotionally, from multiple sources. And based on how angered he was just now, he had, too. Such a mysterious bandit, he was. What was he hiding? There were so many possibilities that I couldn't count them all.

Larger than every other question was one: Why had he become a bandit in the first place? He'd probably been poor, but bandits were a different breed of commoner. Bandits resulted from feelings of injustice and violent histories. Souichi was violent, but it didn't seem like a genuine violence. It was forced, almost defensive. But that still left the question: why was he so defensive? Was it family issues? Trouble with friends? Legal issues?

Whatever it was, I planned on figuring it out. Maybe then the warmth I felt in my heart each time I stood near him would grow even larger.