-1-

Hotohori strove to keep the boredom/irritation he felt from becoming too obvious on his face. It wouldn't do to alienate this man. He was an important member of the nobility, and as such was to be treated with the utmost respect. Even if he didn't see fit to return the courtesy to a man scarcely older than his sons...

"Look boy," the man said condescendingly. "Why don't you run and fetch your father?"

He counted to ten slowly under his breath. "I am afraid that is not possible," he replied smoothly.

"Why not? Where is he?" His tone became wheedling. "Surely you can tell me the truth."

Inwardly, he began to grin. This was his favorite part of being emperor - destroying every shred of credibility his father possessed. They said revenge was a dish best served cold. This particular meal had just spent the last eight years in an icebox. Very well, since this man insisted on treating him like an imbecile, he would answer in kind.

He leaned forward earnestly, eyes going wide with childlike innocence and eagerness. "Do not tell anyone else," he began in a conspiratorial whisper, "But he is out making the biggest ball of string in the world!"

The man paled. Hotohori had put just enough enthusiasm in his voice that he wasn't quite sure if he was serious. And if he didn't know, well who was he to enlighten him?

"Um...yes. Well then, I just remembered that I have, uh, important affairs, um, of estate to tend to. With all due respect, Majesty, I'll just be going...." Bobbing his head repeatedly in obeisance, he turned and all but ran from the room.

'Yes, that's right. If you nod your head and back away slowly, maybe the crazy prince won't come after you.' He felt his lips curve in amusement at the man's very obvious thoughts. After playing the part of emperor pro tempore for so many years he could read people as easily as a book. Though, in general, he preferred the books. They tended to treat him with less contempt.

"Is that all?" he asked the servant beside him. At the man's nodded he smiled and murmured thanks. While a bastard couldn't be much else in this society, he could be polite.

"In that case, I declare formal court to be at an end." His voice carried clearly to all corners of the Great Hall without him actually having to raise it. Standing unhurriedly, he strolled out into the corridors of the palace with no further fanfare. Of course, all the noble courtiers would linger several hours more, hatching plots among themselves to further their own power. He'd probably have to deal with half of their idiotic schemes before the month was out, but for now that needn't concern him. He could go settle down with some well earned . . . paperwork.

Safe behind the heavy oaken doors of his bedroom now, he let out a weary sigh. If ten years ago, someone had asked him what he had thought he would be doing now, this situation would never have come up. Aspiring to be emperor was utter lunacy, what with an heir born in wedlock and all. After the first month his father had vanished, he had reason to be glad there was no chance of this ever becoming a career. He'd have gone a stark, raving mad if he actually had to rule permanently. As it stood, things were bad enough.

'Suzaku, I don't know who's worse - the sneering nobles or the ones who treat me like I really am emperor.'

He peeled off his silken shirt and shrugged into a lighter, less gaudy, cotton one. 'It's probably the women,' he decided, pulling on a pair of thigh-high leather boots. 'Always throwing themselves at me, shameless as a bitch in heat. Never thinking where'd they be if my father actually does come back.'

He winced at the wording of his thoughts. If? After so long, even he was starting to doubt the return of his royal sire. Irrational anger seized him. He needed that hope, dammit! Without it, he could become resigned to the situation and wind up ruling in his father's stead for the rest of his life. That was a thought too horrible to contemplate.

'Enough work for today,' he told himself, squashing the fear ruthlessly. 'One evening off can't possibly hurt anything.'

Standing up, Hotohori surveyed his image in the sheet of polished metal he kept for such purposes. Taller than most commoners at 6"2, he towered over his inbred noble peers. Light brown hair, worn unfashionably long, was tied back loosely by a simple leather thong. Nonetheless, strands persisted on escaping, framing a face an angel might envy. His warm golden eyes, whose stare was so disconcertingly direct, appraised the picture he formed. His fine clothes of silk and velvet had been shed in favor of something that a man of the upper middle class might sport.

'Not bad,' he decided critically. 'Now as long as I remember to speak like a commoner, I just might be able to pass scrutiny.' Merchants didn't care where coin came from, so long as it was real.

Feeling a great deal more cheerful, he headed to the back way out.

'Now if only my guards let me past....'

-2-

Miaka slipped her shoes on as silently as she could and crept by her sleeping partner. Image the nerve of Tamahome, the stupid jerk, to suggest that her first major success in theft was good fortune! It took more than dumb luck to steal the emperor's crown off of his head; it took skill.

Though he had apologized for the words said in the heat of the argument, she still seethed at the injustice of the comment. Sure, so there had been one or two accidents after their initial partnership, but really! Well she'd show him. No one could pull off robbing the palace who wasn't a highly skilled thief, and that was what she aimed to do.

His snores covered the soft click of the door shutting behind her. Getting down the staircase was torture, each creak setting her nerves on edge. Not that it particularly mattered - the ladies of the brothel wouldn't care if she snuck off in the middle of the night. They'd probably think that she had a tryst arranged with a secret lover. Still, it never hurt to be circumspect. One might see her and alert Tamahome to her absence.

After so many months with Tamahome, finding her way through the streets was as easy as navigating her room. Easier, in fact - there weren't large mounds of laundry obstructing her path here.

The palace rose up in front of her like something from a fairy tale. White marble walls, bathed in moonlight, shimmered with an otherworldly aura. From behind the thick wall, tall, graceful spires peaked out, rising high into the night sky. The palace itself was also done in immaculate white marble, and between the two, the effect was almost blinding. Personally, she thought it was a pretty stupid choice of stone. From what she remembered of Earth Science, marble had a hardness of practically nothing and scratched at a pin drop. Still, she was an art major and the effect wasn't entirely lost on her. But pretty wouldn't pay the rent - unless it was pretty and gold.

Tossing a grappling hook to the top of the wall, she hauled herself up by the power off her arms. Flattening herself on the top, she looked of the edge. She was utterly stunned. The walls had only hinted at what lay inside. Acres of cultivated gardens sprawled as far as the eye could see. Up against the building's wall, artistic ponds and sparkling waterfalls had been designed. The first thought that came to her was utterly irrelevant. 'Imagine the flies attracted there in the summer.' The second was more pertinent.

"How am I ever going to find my way around there?" She quailed at the sheer size of it and would have gone back right then, if not for her own lingering anger at Tamahome. She had sworn to do this, if only to herself, and she always kept her word. Taking a deep breath, she slid down the side of the wall into the palace complex.

If sneaking out of home made Miaka jumpy, it was nothing compared to wandering around the palace. She couldn't have said how long she roamed the dark halls aimlessly before the light caught her eye. It was rather conspicuous, spilling out from under a shut door. Cautiously, she cracked it open to reveal an empty room. Puzzled, she slipped in and took a good look around. It was a decent size, with shelves of books lining the walls. At the center stood a large desk, its surfaced cluttered by papers. On it stood a candle, burning brightly. A dummy sat in the chair, casting a shadow that appeared to be of a man bent over his books. Miffed, she shut the door and stepped back into the hall.

The jingle of chain mail gave her just enough warning to flatten herself against the wall and try to look inconspicuous. A troop of men came trotting by the door. They looked about keenly, as if searching for particularly elusive prey.

"We know you're here!" the leader shouted. "You can't hide!"

'Me,' she thought, a lump rising in her throat. 'Me. They're looking for me.' Blind panic seized her and she began to run.

-3-

"Shit," Hotohori swore vehemently to himself. "Why did all the guards have to pick now to suddenly become competent?"

He plastered himself against one of the pillars the original palace architects had been so fond of. Holding very still, he didn't breathe until the contingent had passed him by. With a sigh of relief, he dropped to a stalking crawl. Every few minutes he paused, uncertain that the shrubbery really would conceal his movement. Guards were supposed to be trained in looking for assassins; he didn't want to be mistaken for an intruder and accidentally shot. Or maybe not so accidentally - more than one of them had to be in the pay of enemies.

"We know you're here! Come out, Your Majesty and we can forget this entire incident."

Like hell they would. He was going to get his evening off if it killed him. With grim determination he continued forward. There was some fumbling and cursing, when suddenly a fire flared.

They brought out the searchlights, he realized with a sinking stomach. He was in for it now. Slowly, inexorably, the beam of light cast by the lanterns swept over the terrain, closer to his hiding spot. Frozen with indecision, he waited until the moment right before it reached him to act.

Cursing his own poor luck, he vaulted over the bush he hid behind and rolled down the hill it was perched on, towards the palace.

"I think I saw him!" someone shouted.

With a muttered oath that he wasn't supposed to know, he sprinted across the hill as swiftly and silently as he could manage. Scanning frantically for a hiding spot, he ducked into the shrine at the center of the palace and slammed the bolt into place. Exhausted, he slumped to the ground and closed his eyes. He was exactly where he didn't want to be - trapped in the palace.

A strangled noise made him look up. He wasn't alone. In the room with him was a short, curvy woman, wearing outlandish clothing. Large green eyes peered out at him from beneath a tangle of auburn curls.

"Are you breaking in too?" she asked in a friendly tone, cocking her head to the side.

"Pardon?"

"Well, you looked like you were running away and I figured that a resident of this palace wouldn't have to, so I thought you were breaking in, trying to rob the place." He blinked, trying to follow her sentence, which had been spoken in a breathless rush.

She gave a warm smile and held out her hand, without waiting for a reply. "I'm Miaka Yuuki."

Unable to resist her infectious grin, he found himself shyly returning the smile. Taking her hand he bowed and kissed it. "My name is Hotohori, though I am not always called that."

"So are you breaking in?" she repeated.

"Umm..." He found himself tongue-tied. Something about this Miaka drew him irresistibly, and while he wanted to spend more time in her company, he couldn't if he told her who she really was.

She mistook the cause of his hesitation. "Don't worry," she said, with a warm laugh. "I won't tell anyone. I'm breaking in here myself."

"Very well," he lied with his most charming smile, "You've figured me out. I was planning on robbing the place, but someone tipped off the guards, as you have doubtless heard."

She nodded in agreement. "I hate to waste a night, but I suppose getting out alive is more important . . . Merciful man parts! Hotohori, help me drag that out."

He looked at what she pointed. A statue of a phoenix, claw extended for attack, met his eye. "That? But, it's the statue of Suzaku!"

"It's also made up of pure gold and jewels," she pointed out with a greedy gleam in her eyes. "We could make a killing off of it! Split the profit, seventy-thirty, the extra twenty for me since it's my idea."

"Fifty-fifty," he responded automatically.

"Fine," she agreed promptly, "But the price of melting it down comes from your half of the profits."

He gave her an odd look. "I wasn't actually serious. It's a holy relic - you can't melt it down. It's also the centerpiece of Suzaku's shrine."

She sat down next to him. "What's a Suzaku? Tamahome keeps mentioning it."

"Who's Tamahome?"

"My partner."

"Oh." Hotohori gave her a considering look. "How can you grow up in Konan without knowing who Suzaku is?"

She shrugged. "I never heard of Konan until eight months ago, when I came here from my world."

His head shot up and he stared at her. "Your world? Do you mean you are from another world entirely?"

She looked downcast. "Shoot. Now you'll think I'm crazy. But, strange as it sounds, yes."

He smoothed his expression into one of mild interest. "I'd love to here about it sometime," he said sincerely. "But in the meanwhile, Suzaku is the guardian deity of this Konan. There is one for each empire..."

A pounding on the door interrupted him. "Open up!" came the muffled shout. "We know you're in there!"

"Oh my God," Miaka hissed, clutching his arm. "We have to get out of here." Privately, he couldn't agree more. "Do you know where those air ducts lead?"

"What?" He looked up to the narrow vents she indicated. "Oh. Umm...I think they end up under one of the ornamental ponds around the side of the palace."

"No choice. Give me a boost up Hotohori. I'll pull you up after."

Slightly mystified, he tossed her up high enough that she could catch hold of the side. True to her word, she turned around and offered her hands. He looked at her dubiously; she didn't appear that strong. Shaking his head in negation, he jumped up and caught the edge of the vent. With arms made strong by years of sword practice, he hauled himself up after her.

"Let's go," he whispered.

Their timing could not have cut it any closer. Just as he pulled himself in, the guards finally beat down the door. Seeing the grate on the ground, they (miraculously) came to the right conclusion.

"He's in the air ducts!" Try as they might, none of them could fit their stomachs in to follow them. It was a tight enough squeeze for Hotohori; his shoulders were black with bruises from every bump in the passage.

Ahead of him, Miaka let out a scream of terror. Red light flared from her, leaving behind a pile of ashes where a rat had been.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry you had to - wait, how are you still alive?"

For his part, Hotohori was staring at her. "Priestess of Suzaku...."

"Huh?"

"Uh...nothing. What was that?"

"It was my little red death ray. It kicks in whenever I'm in danger. I saw a rat," she explained sheepishly. "I hate rats." Her look turned puzzled. "Usually it fries people, but it didn't work on Tamahome or you. Maybe all it kills now is rats."

He gave a sardonic grin. "You could always hire yourself out as an exterminator."

Miaka brightened visibly. "Yeah! You know, I should charge the palace for that."

They crawled on further in silence, but he didn't care. He had more than enough to occupy his thoughts. 'I'm crawling through the air ducts of my palace with the Priestess of Suzaku, who is terrified of rodents and has the subsequent power to vaporize them, or anyone else she should choose. Guards are shouting beneath me, hitting the ceiling with a broom in an attempt to scare me loose. The probability of me getting a night out is slim and fading fast. Eventually, I'm going to wind up on the bottom of a freezing cold lake. I have never had so much fun in my life.'

He collided into Miaka as the girl came to an abrupt halt.

"I'm not leaving without something," she said firmly in response to his unspoken question. "I think this is the emperor's chambers, but if not, it'll do anyway."

"It is," he replied with authority.

"Good. Lower me down." Shaking his head at his own insanity, he did as she directed. She looked a little disappointed as she surveyed the room. "You'd think the emperor could have nicer stuff."

"Maybe he does not like being surrounded by reminders of his position," he suggested delicately.

She snorted in contempt. "That's nothing like what Tamahome said nobles are like. He said they enjoy knowing they're rich and powerful and they enjoy making everyone else know that too."

He was heartily sick of this Tamahome, and he had never even met the man. "We do not have much time to - what are you doing?" She held a penknife and was sawing at one of his imperial robes.

"I'm cutting the jewels off it."

"Please don't do that."

"Why?"

"It's, uh, worth more whole."

Miaka gave a careless shrug. "Well I'm certainly not dragging it out with me."

"Look, take this instead." He reached into the drawer in his end table and tossed her a pouch of spare gold coins.

Her eyes widened in respect. "Wow, you really have this place mapped out."

Irrationally, he felt pleased at her comment. "Well-"

"Majesty!" The door burst open, revealing to a very stunned set of guards Hotohori kissing the girl deeply.

"Your Majesty," they said, bowing submissively. "Uh, we're so sorry." Backing out swiftly, they shut the door and disappeared.

Hotohori released her. "Sorry," he said breathlessly. "But I'm told I look like the emperor from the back."

"Wow." She swallowed and wiped her palms on the back of her pants. "Wow," she repeated simply. "Damn, but can you kiss."

"Thank you. Look, you should go. I can give you directions out."

"Aren't you coming?"

He smiled and shook his head. "No, I plan on staying around a bit longer."

Her lovely green eyes clouded with concern. "Isn't that dangerous?" He felt touched. Someone was actually worried about him? "Or - do you have a deal with the guards?"

"Something like that," he said with a half-smile. "I pay them and they are never around when trouble is associated with me." Which was true - he had to take care of the last three assassins by himself.

"Good deal."

"Go down the hallway and hang a left, then a left again. Go straight two hallways more, take another left and you will find yourself by the gate."

"Got it. Thanks Hotohori." She paused, giving him a speculative look. "You know, I might be sneaking in here about this time tomorrow..."

"So will I. Shall we meet by the shrine?"

Another one of those brilliant smiles. "Yes, let's."

"And Miaka -" he grabbed her arm. "If you ever need help, I'll be here."

Impulsively, she leaned up and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks."

Then she was gone, leaving Hotohori standing alone in his room. He raised his hand to his face and gently touched the spot where she had kissed him, eyes fixed on the distance.

-4-

"Tamahome!" Miaka squealed, bounding into the room and jumping on his stomach. "Tama, Tama, Tama! Look at this!" She upended the pouch Hotohori had given her, spilling coins all over his pallet.

"Wha- Great goat grappling gods! How did you get that?"

"I robbed the palace. IwasreallypissedatyouforybeingapricksoIbrokeinandmetareallyhotguynamedHotoho riwhoIthinklikedme,anywayhetoldmehowtogetoutandgavemethispouchofcoinssoI'dst opwreckingtheemperor'sclothes. And that's what happened." She sat back on her heels, waiting for his reaction.

For his part, Tamahome sat still for several minutes, waiting for his mind to translate everything she had just said. Then he reacted. "You did what?!" he roared. "You idiot! You could have been killed! What were you thinking?"

"I just thought.... I thought you'd pleased," she quavered.

"Pleased? Why would I be pleased? To wake up and never know what happened to my partner because she was shot down by the palace guards? All because you wanted to prove you had more testosterone than any ten men?! You think that would please me?" He was in fine form now, pacing across the room and throwing things as he ranted.

"I-I-I hate you!" Miaka burst into tears and fled the room.

"Wait, where are you going?" he shouted, anger evaporating.

"To someone who cares about me," she shouted, slamming the door behind her.

"Miaka - Suzaku, you idiot!" Throwing on the first clothes that met his hand, Tamahome ran after her out into the street. It was too late. She was gone.

-5-

Blinded by tears, she wandered the streets aimlessly. She let her feet carry her where they would. Since coming here, she hadn't really made any friends that weren't also Tamahome's. Running out was bluff. She didn't have anywhere else to go.

"You, wench. What are you doing, hanging about here? Don't you know where you are?"

"No, not really." She scrubbed her eyes on the back of her sleeve and looked for the first time at the place she had chosen to rest. A broad expanse of white marble wall met her eye. And like a gift from God, just around the corner she could see the tail end of her grappling hook trailing in the breeze. It was then she remembered the offer Hotohori had made the night before.

Whistling cheerfully, she moseyed on over to her line. The early morning light was dim. Maybe no one would notice her...

-6-

"Glory fucking hell," Tamahome swore. "Where the hell did she go?" He was getting frantic now. Miaka had been missing for hours and none of their mutual friends had seen a hair of her. "Dammit," he cursed again. "But where else could she have - oh no, she didn't." With a sinking heart, Tamahome realized where she must have gone. The palace. To that friendly thief she had met last night. And he had to go in and get her.

"Suzaku preserve me," he muttered in a quick prayer. Then more softly, "Suzaku keep her safe."

-7-

Miaka was a little surprised at how easily she slipped in again. The guards had the benefit of daylight now, as well as their scare from the night. They should be more wary than ever. Instead, she was able to bypass them all together.

Once in, however, she faced a new problem. She didn't know that Hotohori was actually in the palace now; he could have left hours ago. And even if he hadn't, how would she find him? After giving the problem due consideration, she settled on the solution that had served her so well last night; wander around until she hopefully bumped into her target.

In the meanwhile, she enjoyed her view of the palace.

-8-

Hotohori drummed his fingers on his desk, trying to jerk his mind back to the work at hand. He knew it was a lost battle even as he fought it. He just couldn't stop thinking about Miaka. In the hour he had known her, she had already wormed her way deeper into his heart than anyone else he had met. There was something special about her. Maybe it was the way she had talked to him as a person, a courtesy no one else had ever granted him. Or maybe it was her honest friendliness, the warmth with which she treated a stranger. But what really lingered in his mind were her warm green eyes. Her beautiful green eyes...

"Majesty, stay where you are," one of the guards called. "There's an intruder loose in the palace. Some foreign woman. We'll take care of her."

Hotohori only heard the words "foreign woman."

"Foreign woman? But who... Could it -? It has to be," he muttered distractedly. "But if it is Miaka, why is she here?" A moment later he dismissed the train of thought. The important thing was to get to her before the guards did. Even morons couldn't be incompetent all the time, and if they caught her... Shuddering, he slipped outside. He knew what he had to do, if only he had time.

'Suzaku, please keep her safe.'

-9-

"Why does bad stuff always happen to me?"

The question was more rhetorical than anything else at the moment. Miaka had wondered earlier how she had gotten in so easily - now she knew that the hard part wasn't getting in; it was getting out.

"I'll never argue with Tamahome again," she huffed as she ran from a group of very angry guards. "I'll never break into another palace as long as I live. I'd rather rob a church first. What can holy men do to you anyway? Why the hell are they still following me? Do I really look worth that much effort? God fu- mph!"

Kicking wildly, she fought the strong grip of the arm, which had appeared from the bushes to drag her back. A surprised hiss of pain, followed by her release told her that she had not missed her mark. She turned to face her kidnapper, ready to do battle - and stopped in surprise. Hotohori looked up at her with reproachful eyes, one of which was already blackening.

"Get your head down," he whispered, pushing her to the ground. "They will see you."

"Oh my god, Hotohori, are you okay?" she whispered back in chagrin. "I didn't mean-"

He placed his finger gently over her lips, cutting her off. "Think nothing of it, dear lady. It was my fault for startling you, but I fear there was no other viable alternative."

"Um...okay, I won't."

Hotohori broke the silence before it could become uncomfortable. "What brings you here?" he asked gently. A brief look of annoyance flashed across his face. "You could have been killed, you know."

Miaka stopped, dumb. He sounded so much like Tamahome - the heartsick worry and fear in their eyes had even been identical. Remorse filled her for the argument they had. He had just been worried about her, and she had blown everything out of proportion.

"Never mind," Hotohori said hastily, taking in the look on her face. "I am sorry, I did not mean to upset you. The important thing is that you are all right." His eyes softened. "Do you need help?"

"Um, I need to get out. Coming here was stupid. Tamahome and I had a fight and I wasn't thinking too clearly."

"So, you are positive you want to go home?" He sounded disappointed.

"Positive. By the way, what are you still doing here? Isn't it dangerous."

"Um, well, I, you know, sort of, kinda -" he temporized.

"Yes?"

"I work here."

"Really?" The revelation brought about only a raised eyebrow. "Embezzling your employers. Slick."

"That is why I know my way around so well," Hotohori explained frantically.

Miaka nodded. "Well if you work here, I don't want to get you in trouble by being caught with me. You might lose your job."

"What?"

"Thanks for your help, Hotohori. See you around."

She stood and started to saunter casually away. "Wait! Where are you going?"

"Home! See ya!" Miaka called over her shoulder, as she broke into a run. Ran in the wrong direction - towards the palace.

-10-

'She got arrested, of course,' Tamahome thought matter-of-factly. 'All I have to do is find my way in and break her out.'

He frowned to himself. The easiest way to do that would be to let himself get caught and arrested. The problem was that wasn't as easy at it sounded. The guards around the palace were stupendously incompetent. He had walked up to the front gate and said he was a traveling shoe salesman - and they had let him pass! He'd have to do something even they couldn't ignore; to one of their superiors, preferably.

"Hey boys," he said congenially, strolling right up to them from the bushes. "Where's the buffet line?"

-11-

"Ow," Miaka complained, rubbing her back irritably. "That hurt. You could have tossed me a little more gently, ya know!"

"Heads up," he called back in response. "We've got another prisoner coming in with you!"

"Wha - oomph." Miaka was cut off as a warm body collided with her. "Watch it bud - Tamahome?"

"I thought that'd work," he said in satisfaction.

"What are you doing here?"

He gave a snort of disgust. "What does it look like I'm doing, idiot? I'm coming to rescue you. It figures you'd get arrested."

She wasn't about to let him sidetrack her with petty insults. "Why?!"

"Why what?" He looked honestly puzzled.

"Why'd you come back for me - even after all the horrible things I said to you?!"

Tamahome grew serious. "You're my partner. I'll always be there to cover your back."

"Tamahome..."

Her stomach rumbled loudly, breaking the moment. Blushing, she searched her pockets for anything to eat. Triumphant, she pulled a stick of gum from her jeans. It must have dated from when she was her world, but for being over a year old and through various washings with her pants, it didn't taste that much worse for the wear.

The guard, alerted by her movement, marched over to their cell. "What did you put in your mouth? Show me!"

Miaka considered the command for a moment, and then blew a huge bubble. The guard shrieked and ran, throwing his keys behind him. Tamahome caught them easily.

"Good job, kid!" Tamahome grinned, only to shrink back in horror at the sight of chewing gum all over her face.

"Monster," he cried and promptly ran into a wall.

"Weirdos."

After scraping Tamahome off the wall, they set out to find a way out of the palace. Miaka hummed the theme to "Mission Impossible" until Tamahome kicked her.

"Do you mind? We're gonna get caught."

"Yeesh, don't be such a worry-wart. They'll never catch us."

"Like they didn't catch you last time?"

"I let them get me," she said airily.

"No -" he corrected. "I let them catch me. You were arrested entirely by your own merit. Unless, of course, your little friend alerted them," he added in an after-thought.

"What do you mean?" Miaka looked honestly puzzled.

He gave a heartfelt sigh. "Do I have to explain everything to you? Chances are there'd be a nice fat reward for finding the intruder, so he sold you out."

"But I could tell what he'd been up to last night, and he'd get in trouble."

"Who'd believe you? You're a criminal."

"You don't think Hotohori would do that, do you?" She looked troubled. "He seemed so nice...."

"Never trust a friendly stranger, Miaka," Tamahome admonished wisely. "Miaka?"

His advice was lost on Miaka as she followed the enticing aroma of gourmet food to the kitchen. Creeping inside, she drooled appreciatively over the delicacies before her. After gorging herself on someone else's supper, probably several someone else', Miaka ambled out into a sunlit courtyard. It was then that she realized she didn't know where she was. Again.

"Oh no, I've lost Tamahome again! I'm lost and shall surely perish!" she cried melodramatically. "Help, oh help."

"Are you crazy?" a familiar voice interrupted. Hotohori stalked over to her, running his fingers through his long brown hair in agitation. He pulled her into his strong arms before she had time to protest. "Suzaku, I was so worried about you," he murmured into her hair. "You could have been killed."

"But I wasn't." She pulled away and looked him in the eyes. "How did the guards catch me?"

"What do you mean?" He looked genuinely confused. "You ran into one."

"No." She took a deep breath. "I mean did you tell them where I was?"

"No! How could you think I would?" Hotohori sounded hurt. "What did I ever do to make you think I would betray you? I gave you my word of honor that I would help you, and I have yet to find help used in any context that included treachery! Are you doubting my honor?"

"No, no." Miaka soothed desperately. "No, I'm sorry sweetie, don't be upset. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Please, forget I said anything." She patted his hand and looked up with soulful eyes. "Please forgive me. I really didn't mean any offense."

"It's alright. Please don't look like that. I forgive you. You feeling bad about me feeling bad is making me feel worse."

Miaka sniffled and looked up hopefully. "You really forgive me?"

"Yes! Please don't cry. We have got to get you out of here."

Miaka shook her head stubbornly. "Not without Tamahome."

He sighed at her determined face. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly. "I just hope this Tamahome of yours has not gotten into too much trouble."

-12-

He should have wished harder. Tamahome could have used the help.

Frantic at her disappearance, he wandered about everywhere looking for Miaka.

"Where the hell is she?" he bit out tersely. The palace gave him the creeps. The longer he stayed here the better the chances were of a guard finding them. They were doubtless hunting him down now, waiting for him to fall into range of a scout and then ambush him...or walk head on into an entire contingent and save them the trouble, as matters stood.

"Holy shit!" Tamahome turned tail and ran.

Keeping in line with the way his luck had been going, the guards gave chase. Tamahome skidded around a corner and promptly crashed into someone. A beautiful young man stared at him in annoyance, long brown hair falling into his eyes.

"The intruder is assaulting the emperor! Kill him!" Tamahome rolled off the man as a spear came down. It became embedded inches from the crotch of the handsome man. He gaped for several moments before regaining his voice.

"Stop, you imbeciles!" Whether the guards didn't hear him or they were too stupid to obey, no one will know, but as another spear came flying Hotohori was directly in its path.

"Scrotum licking fuckholes!" Miaka screamed, her red death ray going off. It swept through the courtyard, obliterating the guards and weapons. Servants of all kinds stuck their heads out various windows to see what the commotion was. More guards as well as Hotohori's advisors appeared, intent on homicide. Hotohori stopped the killing regally.

"Stop where you are and pay homage to Miaka Yuuki, Priestess of Suzaku!" Needless to say, jaws dropped but one by one, so did the heads of all present as they offered thanks to the gods for delivering them.