Chapter 4

Izana Wistalia liked to think of himself as a smart man. He'd spent his adolescence and adulthood traversing the treacherous waters of court politics with nary a scratch, managing to keep his subjects happy and his nobles in line with relatively little turmoil. So why, oh why, was he constantly making a mess of something as simple as a marriage proposal? He could stare down lords who wanted nothing more than to see his head on a pike without a single bit of disquiet, yet the moment Shirayuki was in his presence, he lost all sense.

"Sir Mitsuhide," he said with a cordial nod at the slack jawed knight, taking a second to debate his next course of action. Izana could hear Shirayuki frantically buttoning up her coat, and he was thankful that a loosened bodice was the only thing she needed to cover up. He'd been seconds away from unlacing her completely, and gods only knew how much farther she'd have allowed him to go. He'd only intended to talk, to clear up the silly misunderstanding and ask for her hand. As usual, he'd known exactly what he was going to say, and, as usual, his mind had gone blank the moment he found her curled up in a flower bush. The conversation then began steering quickly towards their last, and Izana had realized he needed to act fast before she ran again. So, he'd kissed her.

And then proceeded to lose his head entirely.

Feeling those beautiful red lips on his own and her shy yet enthusiastic response to his affections had riled him up to the point where he'd been about to make love to her in the middle of a god damn hothouse. They were lucky it had been Mitsuhide who had walked in, rather than some gossipy courtier. Izana couldn't remember the last time he had been such a fool.

The knight executed a stiff bow, his eyes narrowing. "Your Majesty." His face softened as he peered behind Izana's shoulder. "Shirayuki."

"M-Mitsuhide," she whispered. Her face was pale, her fingers clutching her lab coat in a white knuckled grip. Shame coursed through him and settled into the pit of his stomach. She was utterly humiliated, and he would have to act fast to rectify the situation.

Izana looked at Mitsuhide. "We are…" Betrothed. But they weren't, were they? He'd been too busy acting like a randy schoolboy to ask the question that would have given her the security to hold her head high in this situation. Hell, for all she knew he only intended a love affair. She had no assurance of his feelings, and now someone had seen them.

"We were…" Shirayuki's soft, distressed voice pierced the tension.

"There's been a misunderstanding," he supplied. He would propose now, even if he would have preferred privacy. He'd do it in front of the entire damn court if it meant her reassurance.

A quiet, pained gasp interrupted him before he could open his mouth. "A misunderstanding." Shirayuki breathed, her eyes wide and laced with despair.

"A misunderstanding!?" Mitsuhide's outraged voice boomed through the building.

Oh, hell. They'd gleaned the wrong meaning from his words. Izana had a tendency of speaking vaguely, honed from years of navigating the treacherous tongues of the nobility. Every once in a while, though, the habit came back to bite him in the ass.

He reached out to her. "Shirayuki, that's not what I—"

"Excuse me." She took a step back and shook her head, eyes squeezing shut, before whirling around and dashing into the greenery.

Izana cursed and chased after her, ignoring Mitsuhide's shout. He tore through a thick flower bush, wincing as the thorns scraped his hands, and all but stumbled into the glass wall of the hothouse. The panel in front of him was open. Shirayuki had already climbed though it and was dashing across the outdoor garden. He leaned out, his hands grasping the edge and nearly hauled himself over, until he spied two familiar noblewomen strolling along the far end of the garden and staring curiously at Shirayuki's retreating form.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath and pulled back inside. The Duchess of Filemont and her daughter were some of the most infamous gossips in society, and he had no doubt they'd invent some kind of lurid tale if they saw him chasing an obviously disheveled Shirayuki across the yard, his own clothes in a state of scandalous disarray. The duchess seemed convinced that her daughter would be the perfect queen, and he'd spent an inordinate amount of time dodging her matchmaking machinations since the family had arrived for the myriad of entertainments scheduled in the lead up to the wedding. And they weren't the only ones. Half the noble houses in the country had been all but hurling their daughters at him these past few weeks. All would be eager to put Shirayuki in her supposed place if rumors of an affair got loose. They would be vicious to an extent that paled in comparison to the grumbles she received during her time with Zen.

As much as it tore him apart, Izana would have to let her run. For now.

He watched his lady love disappear into the pharmacy building for one last mournful moment before sliding back through the flowers, lest their unintended audience see him gaping like a lovesick fool. He ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he returned to Mitsuhide, furious at the knight for interrupting and even more furious at himself for blurting such poorly planned words. Shirayuki almost never ran from strife and only did so when about to truly fall apart. She could be nothing less than devastated to flee in the frantic way she did.

Mitsuhide crossed his arms. "Would you care to explain yourself?"

"Have a care with how you speak to your king," Izana snapped back before he could think better of it. He breezed by to grab the coat he had left perched on a small lemon tree, taking a moment to steady himself as he straightened his clothes and let out a silent, slow exhale. He smoothed his countenance and faced Mitsuhide, who looked shocked at his earlier outburst, and casually slipped on the coat. "Your care for her his honorable, but misplaced."

"What is your game?" Mitsuhide was never one to mince words, nor cow to authority when his friends were in danger. It was one of the reasons Izana had given him to Zen in the first place, even if it proved to be a thorn in his side on more than one occasion.

"There is no game."

The man's knuckles went white as he balled his hands into fists. "Then what, exactly, did I just witness? Of all the things I was expecting to find after hearing Popo pecking to get out and opening the door, it certainly wasn't the sight of—" He coughed and turned scarlet. "Of you mauling Shirayuki in broad daylight."

"My intentions are honorable, I assure you."

"You were pulling up her skirt," he hissed.

A lifetime's worth of practice in hiding his emotions was the only reason Izana didn't blush.

"You never seemed to have a problem with the possibility of Zen doing the same."

"Zen planned to marry her."

"And you think I don't?"

Whatever Mitsuhide had planned to say next stood frozen on his lips, his gaze turning owlish. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me."

"Is Shirayuki aware of this?"

Izana scratched the back of his head with a sigh. "She was about to be, before you walked in and ruined everything."

Mitsuhide twitched an eye. "Shouldn't that have come before seducing her?"

"I got distracted." He resisted the strong urge to rub a hand over his face. "And now she's misunderstood everything. Again."

Mitsuhide pinched the bridge of his nose. "Holy hell. Your even worse at this than Zen."