The language of friendship is

not words but meanings.

Henry David Thoreau

Chapter 3: Uninvited Guests

One time-honored privilege enjoyed by royals has always been remaining untouchable by anyone, save the king.

My cousin, of course, was no exception to this rule.

Chaos greeted us as we crossed the bridge leading to the castle. Never in all my years had I traveled more than twenty miles from Schloss Wald, the nest of kings and the heart of Gandara. Constructed after the Dragon's War, the castle stretched nearly a kilometer high, though neither the height nor magnitude of the fortress embedded it in the souls of our people. Wishing to ensure a lasting connection with the land, my ancestors petitioned the surrounding forests for aide in creating a place for us: a home which could never be taken away by any race, dragon, human or otherwise. The flora gratefully complied, lending their power and bodies to the first Gandarans in exchange for their friendship and respect in the coming generations. The resulting covenant was Schloss Wald – a living castle made from those early trees as well as choice hewn stones. Whereas certain corridors consisted of rock, much of the fortress was formed from the branches and trunks of various trees, trees which even now continued to grow and breathe.

Leading our companions, Yusuke and I nodded to the sentries posted on the battlements above, who in turn hailed greetings which were lost in the madness. The lows and braying of various beasts filled the air as men of all shapes and sizes rushed about, calling for their lord. Instruments lay in barely distinguishable lines across well-worn stones, abandoned and in mortal danger of being trampled underfoot. The ogres stood to one side, motioning with great arms while conversing in their peculiar tongue. Bearded men scattered about the courtyard, some racing up narrow stairs to the battlements, others working to calm anxious pack animals, curved horns glinting in the sun. Four bald warriors remained stationed around Tourin's royal carriage, faces set in determined grimaces as they watched their companions; the carriage door hung at an angle, as if pried open by a giant's hands. The rest of the shaved men stood at the base of the Great Hall's steps, the eldest of whom was locked in a screaming match with Kaito.

Hokushin's thin cheeks deepened from red to purple as he swept an encompassing arm over the courtyard, staff pointed towards the empty carriage, lips curling to reveal fangs at whatever comment my tutor made. Yellow plaid brushing Kaito's violet breeches, the oni snarled something I couldn't quite make out. Yusuke snickered; I felt more than saw Hiei smirk. From the corner of my eye, I saw Kuwabara pale at the display, at the tension singing from those surrounding the two elders. "Shouldn't we stop them?"

Yusuke snorted at a particularly colorful comment from his guardian, planting his club before leaning forward and resting his chin on the back of a thick hand. "Nah, let 'em have their fun. They'll notice us eventually."

And notice they did, though it took several moments. By the time a young throat hailed Yusuke, Hokushin's face had long since darkened to blue whereas green dyed Kaito's cheeks; both men's fists trembled. However, every soul fell silent when my cousin responded with a resounding yell, hoisting his weapon atop his shoulder. Yusuke's countrymen shifted from shock to relief and swept towards him in a flood of pounding steps, each voice boasting a different question. I quickly stepped away from the oni prince; Hiei and Kuwabara followed suite, observing the elder clansmen's scolding with veiled amusement.

Chastisement varies greatly from kingdom to kingdom and even from house to house, each following after the customs of his people as well as his own passions. So, imagine my surprise when several of the gray-whiskered men laid hands on my cousin, tugging his braids, his horns, slapping the back of his head and shoulders. Yusuke took all of this in stride, of course, offering only half-formed protests muffled by robust laughter and exaggerations of pain. Kuwabara observed all this with open wonder, jaw agape and eyes wide at the audacity of the Tourites. Dancing tiger lilies brought my attention to Hiei, who watched the display with taut cheeks, teeth clamped tightly together behind relaxed lips. Whatever he thought of the display remained hidden behind impenetrable ruby, though I noted the arms crossed across his tiny chest, left carefully shielding the tattoo marring the right:

Arms riddled with scars.

Eventually, Yusuke pried himself away from the doting men, tossing a good-natured barb at one or two elders before turning to the group at the steps. Neither side moved as he stepped forward – sparse inches separated Kaito and Hokushin still. The sunny yellow of oni plaids clashed with the fine-spun greens and violets of elfin vests, bald heads soaring over dark hair while elongated ears twitched with each step the prince took. Yusuke had the decency to attempt humility once he reached Hokushin, glancing up at the taller man while biting back a roguish grin.

Only then did the royal guard move, following Hokushin's lead as he retreated from the bottom step to stand before his lord. Rather than kneel, however, the hornless man handed his oak staff to a warrior as he studied Yusuke with furrowed brow, coal eyes calm despite the tightness of his jaw.

Then, without warning, he grabbed two fistfuls of braids before slamming his forehead against Yusuke's with a resounding 'crack'.

"Nyaff!" Hokushin snarled, uncaring of Yusuke's anguished cry. Tightening his grip, the elder further ground his forehead against my cousin's, nose brushing the younger man's with each word. "I'll gie ye a skelpit lug!"

"Oi, oi! Keep the heid!" Yusuke shouted, trying and failing to escape Hokushin's grip.

"Haud yer wheesht!"

My hand flew to my mouth, though not in time to fully suppress my mirth. Hiei snorted, though otherwise did not react to the exchange. Kuwabara, on the other hand, appeared as thunderstruck as the other Gandarans at Hokushin's behavior, as well as the fact that none of Yusuke's vassals moved to stop the elder oni.

"Bawheid! You're a wee scunner!"

Finally, after one final twist of braids, Hokushin released Yusuke and straightened, uncaring of his own angry forehead. Yusuke, on the other hand, bent over and took turns clutching at his scalp and face, club long-since forgotten at his feet. Breathing a low curse, he peeked at his guardian between splayed fingers. "Geez, Hokushin! I wasn't gone that long!"

"It's the principle of the matter, Lord Yusuke." Hokushin rumbled before reclaiming his staff and dropping to one knee, a motion which every Tourite followed as one. Yusuke straightened as the elder bowed his head, dark eyes hidden from view. "You are the hope of Tourin – you are our light. If something were to happen to you, my lord, think of what it would do to your country, to your people!" He shook his head, as if to discard the thought. "Our shortcomings are many, my prince, but please, do not fault us for our desire to protect you."

I watched many carefully constructed arguments die on Yusuke's tongue as he stared at his guardian, gaze roving over the bowed heads of his people. Even the pack animals remained silent for the proclamation, meeting his stare with dew-filled eyes.

Outraged hickory softened to powdered ochre as Yusuke placed a hand atop Hokushin's head, thumb and pinkie brushing where proud horns once rested. "Sorry." He mumbled, flexing poised fingers once before allowing the appendage to fall to his side.

Hokushin rose without a sound, a gesture emulated by his fellow countrymen. Kaito and the other Gandarans present continued their silent observation as the young prince retrieved his club, at the boy grinning from his crouch while throwing a good-natured remark at his elder.

Before Hokushin could reply, however, a new voice filled the courtyard. "Well, it appears our guests have arrived."

Every head turned as Kaito and the other nobles parted before the words like water – such was the power of that voice. Pale lips tucked seamlessly into a honeyed smile, father stood before the ancient willow doors of Schloss Wald, shadowed by an attendant on either side. Crimson breeches bled from a flowing copper tunic, both made of the finest silk, each tailored for the king's body alone. No gold adorned the royal throat; all ten lily fingers rested against well-muscled thighs, bereft of any finery whatsoever. Only the simple crown atop his head hinted at father's status: fashioned from a branch given willing by the Diviega, the polished wooden arms wove together at the ends, as if shaking hands. The artifact was old, crafted by the former king himself. My father's father:

Mine and Yusuke's grandfather.

Smiling still, father descended the steps without hesitation, face turning as if to take in the crowd before him. Of course, every man present could see the scar marring his face from temple to temple – the scar which long ago robbed him of his sight. Bright dahlias, yarrow, and fire lilies danced in their respective beds around the court's perimeter, soft peonies cooing as father passed. Every Gandaran bowed before their king, torsos perpendicular with the ground. Kuwabara followed suite without hesitation, though he could not bow low due to the metal encasing his body. Hiei and I bent at a modest 45 degree angle; there was a procedure to such things, after all.

Father paused near the center of the courtyard, reaching towards a minuscule bed which somehow had avoided being trampled in the forgotten panic. Slender wood sorrel rose to meet his hand, stems curling around his fingers, plum-centered leaves nuzzling his palm reverently. Downy vinca heads brushed the hem of his robes, touched the tips of his boots with definite shyness. The other flowers chattered even as the chosen blossoms kissed their king, green arms reaching to no avail. No matter how they wished otherwise, the flowers could only leave their beds at father's word – a command he did not offer.

Yusuke's people kept silent vigil, watching the sorrel extend well beyond its natural limits to touch father's wrist, noting how the castle walls moved behind him. Aged stone groaned ever so slightly as the great trunks breathed, each exhale rustling young branches and upsetting the occupants thereof. Birds of various shapes and color lit to older arms whereas black squirrels chased one another from tree to tree, filling the air with garbled song:

All of this from one touch of the king.

A contemplative hum and father whispered a word to the sorrel, bending to pat a cluster of vinca. Both flowers shuddered beneath his fingers, lifting chiming voices even as they pulled back to their respective beds. From the corner of my eye, I noticed a fire lily nudge the back of Hiei's knee while downy dahlias prodded his bare heels, gestures he pointedly ignored.

A smile rose unbidden on my lips – the flowers loved him almost as much as they loved father.

Only when the last leaf returned to the fold did father allow his hand back to his side, turning once more to face his guests. "Forgive them – the flowers are quite lively this time of year." He said to no one in particular, chest rising silently as he breathed in the perfume permeating the air. Unlike the courtyard's other occupants, my father carried no weapon, though he did not appear concerned about that fact. Nothing disrupted his utter calm, not the calls of the pack animals nor the whisper of cloth as the entourage shifted, uncomfortable beneath his gaze. No worry lines marred his face, despite centuries of rule during which two great wars were fought. His every word acted as a balm, soothing away whatever tension lay between his guests and subjects. In fact, I'd never once heard his voice rise in anger or passion, tingle with excitement, nor warble with sadness. No, his tone remained steadfast, no matter the circumstance. The definition of power under control:

The voice of a king.

Every Gandaran rose at some unknown signal and father glided forward, stopping a respectable distance from the young lord. Hokushin's grip on his staff tightened as Kaito and the others came to stand behind their king, though otherwise he did not move. In fact, both sides eyed each other warily, save for the two monarchs.

Yusuke dipped his head with due reverence before arching his neck, staring openly at the king as was his right. "Your Grace."

Father nodded in turn, smile softening ever so slightly at Yusuke's voice. "Your Highness."

My cousin smiled then, lips curving higher still when father placed a slender hand atop his head, thumb and pinkie resting on his horns. "You've grown, nephew."

Yusuke chuckled and nuzzled into father's hand, completing the traditional Tourite greeting. "And you haven't changed a bit, uncle."

This earned a chuckle, honey dripping thick and slow from father's lips as he allowed his hand to fall away. "Tell me," He said, turning towards the various horses and mules. "What have you brought for us, Lord Yusuke?"

The oni prince grinned, fangs shining as he gestured to specific sections. "Cotton and choice cloths; gold and jewels, compliments of the old man." Hokushin cleared his throat at this, a motion ignored by his lord. "There's silver in there somewhere too, and copper." He lifted his club, pointing out a few dozen horses. "Let's see . . . There's meat for your table: red deer, pine marten, hare, seals, and some whale; took it down myself about a week ago." Yusuke announced even as his chest swelled with pride. A sound very much like a groan emanated from Hokushin which, again, went ignored. "Then there's oats, turnips and potatoes; leeks, cabbage and kale. Also, we brought gifts for your healers: tormentil, bog myrtle, heather; ivy, burdock and sundew. There's some centaury in there too but I'd be careful using it."

Another chuckle and father shifted towards the unspecified horses, unseeing gaze curious. "And what of the rest?"

"Oh, those are for us." Yusuke smirked at father's raised brow, leaning once more against his club. "To be honest, your fruity drinks just don't do it for us, your Majesty. So, we brought our own so we can get good and–"

Finally, Hokushin saw fit to intervene and shifted, striking Yusuke on the back of the head with his staff. The motion was not pronounced by any means – the common observer would surely have missed it – though the blow filled the air with a resounding 'crack'. Whatever Yusuke was about to say died on his lips as hot air seethed between clenched teeth and he bent forward, clutching his head.

Hokushin bowed to father, bending his shoulders forward as he addressed the king. "My Lord has his preferences for such things, your Majesty, and did not wish to trouble you over them."

Another chuckle and father focused his attention on the elder man, who maintained his humbled stance. "Tell us, what did you bring?"

"Whisky and ale from the royal cellars, your Majesty."

"Ah, that sounds lovely." Father turned back to Yusuke, who had finally straightened and stood rubbing the offended area. "Surely one as gracious as you would not mind sharing, Lord Yusuke?"

The man in question blinked before giving an undignified snort, smirk twisting his lips. "Think you can keep up with me, uncle?"

"We shall do the best we can." Father answered, an uncharacteristic smirk tugging at his mouth.

Only one word can accurately describe the ensuing evening – reveling.

Tables lined the great hall from one end to the other, each heavy laden with food and beverages. Various fowl, venison and other ornately dressed game decorated silver platters, juices from whole carcasses saturating the vegetation beneath with abandon. Vegetables grown both above and below ground lay at the ready, each prepared in such a way as to bring out the plant's best flavors and arranged to please the eye.

Pies and puddings comprised of both meat and fruit, hot and cold, rested humbly beside the more ornate dishes, pleased with impressing with flavor rather than grandeur.

Wine and harsher drinks flowed like water from diligent servant's hands, gifts which did not staunch until well after their recipients ceased to care.

And then, of course, there was the entertainment.

Acrobats flew through the air with no thought of personal safety, swinging higher and higher on the living walls, vaulting across the tables where entranced nobles sat. Fire eaters and sword-swallowers appeared as well, balancing atop great balls or unsteady stacks of furniture while performing their own daring acts. Round tables prepared for chess rested against one side of the room for the more reserved guests, though few occupied them now. Dancers appeared during the course of the meal, stomachs bare and long hair flying as they twirled to the alluring lilt of flutes, drums, and chimes.

I caught Yusuke eyeing these women more than once.

Father sat at the head of the main table. Mere feet from his throne, he offered his ear and a smile to any who wished to converse with him. However, the trees made this difficult at times. The ancient walls prattled endlessly throughout the meal, whispering to father in a language known only to the kings of our land – a language I was not yet old enough to learn. Yusuke sat to his left and, of course, I sat to his right. Hiei ate by my side as he always did, silent and ever watchful. Hokushin sat to Yusuke's right, doing his best to enjoy our hospitality while reigning in his Lord.

I didn't bother keeping track of the other placements for the same people dined where they always did at such events – an age-old custom ruled by rank and association with the king. However, my eyes soon found Kuwabara at the end of the last table, complexion decidedly green as he took small, careful bites off his plate. Dressed in loose blue satin – a style long since out of fashion – he appeared quite uncomfortable in the rich material and thus took extra care when moving, though his exaggerated motions caused his neighbors no small amount of mirth.

His anxiety stung my nose like so much pepper.

A nudge at my right foot drew my attention back to father's table. Hiei answered my quizzical gaze by sliding a dripping piece of meat into his mouth, years of experience keeping the offending juices away from his clothes. Many nobles despised father's allowing him to wear red in court – a privilege which had always belonged to royalty alone – and Hiei honored that allowance by handling his garments with the utmost care. Though my companion preferred black, such a drab color was not allowed in Gandaran court – not even the king could change that. So, he and father reached a compromise when we were boys: Hiei could wear whatever he wanted outside of court, but when his presence was required here, he would wear the royal colors made of whatever fabric father chose. Of course, Hiei agreed; father chose silk.

Even at that age, Hiei knew father's suggestion was not negotiable. However, the illusion of being given a choice, along with the fact that his king chose to talk the matter over with him personally, seemed to matter a great deal with Hiei.

He never complained about his court clothes, not even in private.

"So your father, our brother, is well?" Father asked before lifting a grape to his lips, wooden crown still adorning his head.

Yusuke paused his vicious assault on a leg of mutton, slowly prying his teeth away from the partially dissected bone. He took more time than necessary swallowing the meat, amber darkening to charred mahogany as he stared down at the overfull plate. "King Raizen remains unchanged, your Grace."

Father's smile slipped at the edges, lips forming a neutral line. "How do you mean?"

"If I may, your Highness." Hokushin spoke as Yusuke's gaze intensified, braids sliding past suddenly tense shoulders. "His Majesty King Raizen has neither improved nor worsened since his last visit with you – his condition remains unchanged."

After a moment's consideration, father rose to his full height in his chair, face set as if he could actually see my cousin. "We have much to discuss later, Prince Yusuke."

A nameless sound escaped Yusuke's throat as his hand balled into a tight fist against the tablecloth, dark brows furrowing.

"But such talk is not for now." And, with that, effortless calm overtook father once again. He relaxed against the high-backed chair, lifting his chalice towards Yusuke and Hokushin. "This party is for you, Prince Yusuke. Enjoy yourself."

And enjoy himself he did. Soon afterwards, Yusuke tucked into his ale with abandon, appetite all but forgotten. After draining two pints with expert precision, my cousin excused himself before making his way towards a well-endowed dancer, all bravado and theatrics as he set about impressing the brunette.

I excused myself then on the pretense of desiring a game of chess, a hint Hiei immediately picked up on. By that time, a few nobles occupied the main floor and were twirling to a performance by Gandara's best musicians, a mixed group playing flutes, lyres, drums, timbrels, as well as stringed instruments. We weaved carefully through the swaying couples before settling at an unoccupied table; one glance from Hiei was enough to dissuade any women wishing to dance.

We were several moves into our game before Hiei spoke. "He's making a fool of himself."

Pausing, I glanced at the dance floor, fingers still clasping my bishop. Yusuke had long since downed another pint and was now attempting to keep up with three dancers with bells dangling from their slender waists, tambourine in hand as he mimicked their gyrating hips. Laughing along with the women, he threw a lewd comment to the brunette from earlier, who in turn smirked and quickened her pace. At the other end of the hall, Kuwabara held a rosy-cheeked woman in his arms, lumbering form tilting this way and that as he watched his feet. Though the musicians played a simple folk dance, I saw the young knight's lips move, obviously counting steps while handling his partner as if she were made of glass. Unlike his companion, Kuwabara appeared decidedly uncomfortable, an emotion which became more apparent when she whispered something in his ear and the blood rushed to his face.

I couldn't halt the smile curling my lips. "Which one?"

Hiei snorted, propping an elbow atop his right leg, which was crossed over his left in a gentlemanly fashion. Casting a cursory glance at our game, he returned his attention to our companions, chin in hand. "Both, though I was referring to your cousin."

The words were meant for my ears alone, swift and soft as a summer breeze. We'd long-since learned the pitches which would and would not carry in court, no matter how talented the hearer. I did not attempt to conceal a chuckle at the display, moving the bishop forward three paces. "Check. You're not jealous, are you?"

He scoffed, taking my pawn with his king and effectively moving from harm's way; his eyes never left Yusuke. "He's drawing unnecessary attention to himself."

I allowed myself a quick survey of the great hall, giving the esteemed nobles careful attention. Whereas most appeared enthralled with the festivities, a select few watched my cousin with the same intensity as Hiei. Kaito and his subordinates kept vigil from their positions around father, each face bearing testament to the events from earlier that afternoon. Hokushin never faltered in his conversation with the Gandaran king, though his eyes frequently traveled to his lord, whose revelries grew louder with each song. Yana and Asato stood to either side of the main entryway, spears held at attention, jaws set as they observed the visiting prince's antics. Suzaku alone refused to become enraptured by my cousin's performance from his post near the wine casks. Right gauntlet resting close to glinting sword hilt, his attention remained fixed on something far more pressing than a drunken prince, though he stood less than ten feet from Yusuke. Cold sapphire glared at Hiei with poorly-veiled malice, mouth twitching as his hand crept further down his belt.

Unless one paid close attention, they would never notice the porcelain thumb in that gauntlet.

Glancing back at our game, I noticed white queen forgotten at Hiei's left hand. Though believed by many to be the deciding factor in chess, the queen was always the first piece Hiei surrendered to his opponent. This had been the way he'd played since we were children: by allowing his opponents to take his queen early in the game, Hiei more often than not drew them into a false sense of security, allowing the sham to go on for several moves before cornering the opposing king with a rook or, his personal favorite, a pawn. This strategy worked on most of the nobles who lowered themselves enough to play with him.

It would not, however, work on me.

Keeping a watchful eye on Suzaku, I captured Hiei's knight with a pawn of my own, effectively trapping in his king. "Check-mate." Ruby flickered back to the chess board before rising to meet my gaze, irises clouded with crimson annoyance. "Would you mind seeing my cousin to his rooms, or at least back to his chair?" At his raised brow, I inclined my head towards the oni prince. "At this rate, Yusuke will bed that woman in front of everyone and if that happens, father will never hear the end of it."

Lips pressed in a thin line, Hiei cast a sour glare at our game before slipping from his seat, glancing at the crowd before disappearing amidst fluttering capes and bright skirts. I watched him weave across the dance floor with a sense of detachment, monitoring his progress by the occasional shock of black hair at someone's elbow or a flash of silver from the swords at his hips. To the dismay of many, Hiei had long since earned the right to bear arms in court – a privilege normally reserved for the king's personal guard. From the corner of my eye, I watched Suzaku watch Hiei, cheeks pink with drink and mouth twisted into something altogether unpleasant. Only when my companion touched Yusuke's arm did the knight's face slip into a more neutral expression, hand relaxing on his belt as the prince grinned down at the shorter man. I could not hear what Hiei whispered in Yusuke's ear, though his mirth was evident to all when he dipped his horned head back and laughed, allowing my companion to lead him back to father's table.

Only then did I move to reset the chess board, shifting each piece to its rightful place with practiced ease. When at last Hiei's forgotten queen lay in my hand, however, I paused, rolling the polished wood between calloused fingertips. In all of our years together, never once had he told me why he detested the piece so much, why he went out of his way not to include the queen in his stratagem. He claimed he would not allow a single piece to dictate the outcome of a game, yet his abhorrence for the queen accomplished just that:

Such prejudice was not part of the man I knew.

Before I could contemplate the matter further, the scent of lavender arrested my nose, preceding a satin voice. "I see you haven't changed, my lord."

A smile curled my lips even as a flowing skirt hem brushed my hose. Shizuru Kuwabara materialized in the corner of my eye, mouth contorted in a minuscule smirk. Eldest child of the late lord Kuwabara, Shizuru bore her station well: she exemplified no shame in wearing the lowliest of fine fabrics; rather, the human remained uncaring of her crushed velvet gown among so much silk, of the jewels blazing from so many young throats while only a simple brooch adorned her chest. Unlike many of my people, Shizuru refused to go out of her way to extol elegance, or to please anyone other than herself by appearance. Her attire could by no means be called fashionable, yet much like fresh fauna, her tastes never truly went out of style. A modest cream collar, an ivy bodice laced with matching thread; a long skirt cinched at the waist, the hem of which hinted at slim boot-tips, enchanting the eye of the viewer. Ever unassuming, a lady among ladies:

This was Shizuru Kuwabara.

Proper breeding took over and I stood before quite realizing it, inclining my heads towards her. "Lady Kuwabara."

She made a face at this, an honest reaction which filled me with mirth. "Please don't call me that – it makes me sound like Kazuma's wife."

A chuckle bubbled unheeded in my throat as I took her hand, pressing my lips to worn knuckles. "Lady Shizuru, then."

A sound which was not entirely lady-like spilled from her mouth and she frowned, hiding the motion with a careful shift of her head. "Prince Kurama, this is not the time or place for your games." She whispered, long hair tickling my nose.

"But you play them so well." I replied, lips moving across her skin, though one glance at the hall validated her stance. Suzaku kept watch over Hiei and Yusuke with an eagle's eye, though Yana and Kaito both stared at us openly – neither appeared pleased. One glimpse of the dragon's head peeking from my companion's sleeve and I straightened, extending a hand to Hiei's vacant chair. "Would you care for a game?"

"No, but I would join you for a moment." Only when I gave a short bow did she move, shifting skirts with expert precision to sit on the plush cushion. Returning to my own seat, I granted her my full attention, allowing the festivities to fade around us.

Reaching slender fingers up her sleeve, Shizuru admired the chess board while pulling several items from her purse: a long-stemmed pipe, gift from a foreign emissary long ago; the hollowed half of a walnut shell, encrusted with carved stars; a trimming stick and, finally, a sweet-smelling pouch. Still studying the pieces before her, she untied the pouch's rustic drawstring, plucking dark, hair-like fibers which smelled of the forest in deep spring between soft fingertips. Stuffing the matter into the pipe's tiny mouth, she took the trimming stick in her left hand and, ever so gently, touched the candle burning at my elbow. Withdrawing the smoldering wood, she allowed the embers to kiss the full mouth of her pipe, inhaling measured droughts of air until the tobacco caught. Finally, she shook the stick until smoke replaced brilliant orange, placing it to the side while taking a single, long draw.

I could not help but stare. True, both the pipe and tobacco were a luxury, yet Kuwabara would never think of denying his sister anything. Though he and I met only a few years before, I'd known Shizuru since she was a child. Before the late lord and lady passed, father allowed her to visit Schloss Wald often, where she spent the summers playing with Hiei and I. Once her uncle took over the estate, however, father revoked those privileges for reasons he would not state. Since Kuwabara's coming of age, I'd only seen Shizuru a handful of times, each reminding me she'd blossomed into a young woman while I was not looking. Most frowned upon a lady smoking, yet I could not picture her as anything other than herself–

After all, she was the first person to accept my friendship.

Motioning to a serving boy, I followed her line of sight only to spy Kuwabara finishing his dance with the merry lady, a blush marring his cheeks as he bowed to kiss her hand. The woman giggled and clasped his glove with small hands, corkscrew curls bouncing as she once again pulled him close for another jig. Trailing blue clashed with pink silk as they leapt across the floor, the lady urging Kuwabara on faster still. Inexperience ceased to matter amidst the maddening pace, free-flowing drink took away all care of rank and strict social dignities. The lady in pink led and Kuwabara followed obediently, yet none other than we paid them any heed.

Finally, after their third revolution around the room, Shizuru spoke, "Kazuma has become quite fond of you, my lord."

I nodded to the flaxen-haired boy who set a chalice before her, filling the silver cup three-quarters of the way full with strawberry cordial. The boy gave a short bow before disappearing back into the crowd, aged bottle clutched to his chest. Shizuru took another lengthy draw before continuing, sweet smoke curling from her lips. "I wish to thank you for taking him under your wing, my prince, for everything you've–"

"Shizuru." She froze under the sound of her name, taking her eyes from her brother for the first time to glance at me. "Please, don't. You may speak freely here."

Brows knit ever so slightly, she cast her gaze towards father's table, where Hiei still stood sentry over a drunken Yusuke. "But . . . what about–"

"Good wine is a terrible thing to waste." Brilliant cognac found me once again and I smiled, raising my glass while motioning for her to do the same. "Yes, a bit of wine is good for the stomach and makes the heart glad. However," I paused to grip the rim of my cup, swirling the liquid inside ever so gently as she raised her own chalice, dark brow raised in question. "Wine also has the tendency to loosen the tongue, heat the blood and addle the mind. These tendencies vary from person to person, as does one's tolerance for strong drink. Much of the occurrences during court are forgotten for those very reasons."

At last, she returned my smile, a sharp twist of her mouth not unlike a smirk. "Very well." Setting her pipe aside, she gripped the silver in both hands and raised the cup high. "To your health, Lord Kurama."

Silver butted against silver and she immediately took a sip, eyes closing as the bright liquid slid down her throat. I mimicked the action, though my lips remained sealed so as not to let a drop enter my mouth. Whereas no one would think twice of Shizuru's actions here as a lesser noble, I could not allow myself to falter. Eyeing the oni still at table, none of whom joined the Gandarans' dance, I noted how each kept their weapons close at hand, watching their hosts with care. True, our allies laughed and drank with everyone else, yet a definite unease remained in their bearing, causing them to scratch the bases of their horns and give whatever food entered their hands a tentative sniff. No, I could not lose myself to drink:

Far too much was at stake.

A few sips more and she brought the pipe back to her lips, taking a long drag with her cup still in easy reach. "As I mentioned, Kazuma admires you."

One look and I caught sight of pumpkin twirling amidst various dark heads, a torch surrounded by so much timber. I made no effort to hide a soft smile. "I've grown quite fond of him, myself."

"No, I mean it." Gray smoke billowing from shapely nostrils, Shizuru once again captured my attention with a single glance. Deeply-set garnet brimming with intelligence, sharp as a crystal dagger or glass shard; cold, yet possessing a certain softness if one knew where to look. Even as a boy, I'd loved her eyes. "Baby bro's always had it rough – as you know, our parents died when he was three." I nodded, remembering the questionable circumstances surrounding their deaths.

The Kuwabara Incident was one of the few instances father lost his smile.

"Kazuma barely remembers them, yet most of his life our uncle's reminded him how he'd never live up to father's hopes, how he could never honor our family name." Her lips twisted around the pipe, an expression which would appear ugly on any other woman. No, Shizuru's anger – her fierce protectiveness – deserved to be memorialized in a lasting way, such as a painting or ballad. Such was her beauty. "That wretch made him work the fields like a peasant, convinced him that was his rightful place because he wasn't smart enough to rule." Though she spoke quietly, her fists shook against the table, threatened to snap the delicate pipe in two. "No matter how hard Kazuma worked, no matter how much he studied, it was never enough."

She took another drag from the pipe, holding the smoke in a bit too long before releasing the sweet vapor. Somehow, the action seemed to soothe her. "If not for your father's interference two years ago, he'd still be working the fields with the servants."

Lips pressed tightly together, I resisted the urge to touch her still-trembling fist. "Shizuru–"

"Which is why I wanted to thank you." A smile once again lit her face, a soft, honest expression which did her great justice. "You didn't have to accept Kazuma – you could have looked down on him like the other nobles, despite your father's choice – but you didn't." She turned to face me then, molten caramel piercing my innermost being. "I can't thank you enough for that."

I schooled my face into a regulated calm even as my cheeks warmed. Thankfully, the players were winding down the festive song and more than one couple drifted from the main floor, limbs heavy with exhaustion and drink. "I don't suppose you would care to dance?"

She laughed, a soft, bell-like sound. "No one ever asks me to dance in court, my lord."

"Then allow me to be the first." I smiled, offering her my hand. She hesitated, lips pursing as she glanced at the ever-diminishing crowd. Finally, she lowered her gaze and returned the gesture, fingers wrapping around the back of my hand as she stood.

Stepping onto the main floor, we were immediately given preeminence – the advantage of blood and rank. After signaling the chief musician, I gave two swift motions with my right hand. He nodded, offering quick instructions to his men as we glided to the center of the room. Several nobles appeared taken-aback, some offended, others still vaguely amused. Father never paused in his conversation with Hokushin, though I saw the devious smile curling his lips. Yusuke remained lost in his folly, nursing another pint while murmuring pointless statements to his companion. Hiei turned to watch the spectacle, arms crossed, brows raised.

Bowing in-time to her curtsy, I mouthed 'Follow my lead.'

She smirked, an impish twist of her lips as she silently replied, 'Don't I always?'

As soon as we rose, I pulled her towards me, a rotary motion which left her shoulders pressed against my chest. "You are an extension of myself." I whispered into her hair, lips brushing her ear.

Her breath caught, prompting a smile. "I am the body, you are my arm."

Another shuddering breath and she nodded.

At that motion, the music began.

A flick of the wrist and Shizuru spun away, skirts living water cascading around her legs as she danced. Shoulders perfectly poised, I raised my chin in challenge, the image of arrogance as I opened both hands wide and stamped one foot. She raised an elegant brow yet kept a firm grip on her dress, hips and shoulders moving in-time with the drums, brass and stringed instruments as she watched me. Another solid stamp, fingers weaving the air as the flutes came to play and we took simultaneous steps, content with stalking one another. Cognac eyes laughing behind a proud façade, she studied every move, analyzing every pointed stomp, each flick of the wrist, noting with care how my ribs and not my hips preceded every step.

When the music reached the first crescendo, we raced to each other, hands finding their respective places even as our bodies became lost in a sea of green. We paced the hall in that fashion, following the ever-increasing tempo much like proud panthers. At times, I released my hold to turn her this way or that, even flinging her away without warning. Shizuru allowed me to do whatever I wished to her – a favor I gratefully returned. During those brief moments of freedom, she somehow found various ways to touch me: phantom fingertips glazed my chest, my stomach, my lips. Once, as we turned our backs toward one another, I caught her fingers running through my hair, deftly undoing the careful tucks and folds wrought by a servant. I barely suppressed a shudder:

Such was the power of her touch.

Red spilling over both shoulders, I pulled her in, conscious of the sweat sticking to my brow, trickling down her pale throat. One quick glance was the only warning Shizuru received before the horns' blast propelled me to action. Drums propelling each step, we spun several times in rapid succession, easily covering the distance to the middle of the dance floor. A final stamping of the foot and all the instruments sounded as one, signaling the last measure of the song. Left hand gripping her lower back, I pressed urgently into her spine, trying to convey what was about to happen. In one swift motion, I raised her knee to my hip and swept her remaining leg from under her, all the while sliding towards the floor. Several gasps sounded as Shizuru's back touched the ground and I landed atop her, one hand twined in her hair, the other gripping her thigh. No inappropriate amount of skin showed – her legs remained covered from hip to ankle – yet the air hummed with an energy normally reserved for one's private chambers. This was different from the folk dances and timeless jigs Gandarans were accustomed to–

None but Kaito and I had seen this new dance from the continent.

The music died and I lowered my head, hair cascading in thick sheets to offer the illusion of privacy. For a few precious moments, I stared pointedly at Shizuru's throat, catching my breath while both ears strained past the thundering of my heart. No hands eagerly applauded our performance; in fact, several voices sounded at once, hushed whispers I could clearly hear and none of which sounded pleased. I couldn't bring myself to look at her, not yet. Perspiration traced lazy lines down my cheeks as I watched her pulse throb, gnawing my inner cheek as I tried to predict her reaction. There had been no particular plan in asking her to dance, no ulterior motive. I'd wanted only to show her that she owed me no thanks, no words of gratitude. Their entire lives, she and Kuwabara had been made to feel as if they were less among their peers: unwanted, unworthy, unredeemable; forgeries of true nobility, black sheep amidst sparkling white–

No one deserved to be treated that way.

After a moment, I raised my head enough to search the crowd. I found Hiei first: arms still crossed, he rested his weight against the feasting table, lips twisted in a satisfied smirk. Yusuke wore a victorious grin, raising his cup in a toast to my – and I quote – 'iron-clad balls'. I don't think Kuwabara's mouth could have physically opened any further; partner long forgotten, his gaze roamed first to Shizuru, then I, pale cheeks tinged with embarrassment or fury – I could not tell. Finally, father appeared somewhat distracted, his smile never faltering as he listened to the ceaseless murmurs of the ancestral trees. Face set towards the main entrance, he did not care enough about the spectacle to offer the illusion of sight to his guests or to me. His lack of care eased the tension in my gut, somewhat–

If father wasn't angry, all would be well.

At last, I gathered the courage to look at her. Nostrils flared in silent exertion, blue veins pulsed in her temples, her throat, pumping blood eagerly to the rest of her body. Dark hair plastered to her face randomly by sweat, she stared at me with eyes of warm cinnamon. Her exhaustion permeated the air; both hands trembled, despite her grip on my shoulders, yet her eyes gleamed with laughter. Staring at her, I relived our dance a thousand times over, each step marked by a differing shade of brown or a soft sigh, an altogether sadistic smile lighting her lips–

She approved of my rashness.

Stifling a chuckle, I rose to one knee and offered her a hand. She gladly took it, irises deepening still as we rose to our feet.

However, when her lips parted, a great banging of wood against wood stole the words. "Your Excellency!"

Immediately, Hiei stood before us, his back a physical barrier between myself and the Great Hall's entrance. The old oaks hummed in their foreign tongue and suddenly instinct overrode all else. I pushed Shizuru behind me, right hand flying to my nape as I glared at the twin behemoths, both of which now stood open. The bailiff – a thick-set man in the twilight years of youth – stood between Asato and Yana, both of whom faced him with spears at the ready. Interrupting the king's court – especially when entertaining an allied power – was unheard of:

Their recognition is all that kept the man's head on his shoulders.

At father's raised hand, both knights stepped away, allowing the bailiff forward. Swallowing hard, the blonde man stepped forth, cropped hair belying his status as a commoner. Still, he bowed away from the glaring finery of Schloss Wald, focusing instead on his mud-caked boots. "P-pardon the intrusion, your Highness. If it were not a matter of upmost importance, I would never–"

"We are well aware." Father stood, smile still in place as he kept his imaginary gaze fixed on the bailiff. Only then did I realize the trees had ceased talking. "You may speak."

Sagging visibly, the man straightened, eyes trained nervously on father's chin. "Sire, two messengers are here to see you, a man and a woman."

Father raised a dark brow. "Is that all?"

Licking chapped lips, the bailiff shook his head. "No, your Grace. They claim to have been sent by their Queen – they bear the official seal of Hyouga."

A/N: Hello again! Wow, I can't tell you guys how much fun I'm having writing The Whipping Boy! I appreciate each and every one of you – thank you for returning for the third chapter! Also, big thanks for my beta reader Candid Ishida!

Cultural notes: while I tried to allow everyone to use their imaginations, court during the middle ages was all about extravagance: Acrobats, animal tamers, foreign troupes, chess matches as well as "lewd dancing" were par for the course entertainment in the fifteenth century, and don't even get me started on the cuisine. One source said it wasn't uncommon to have live birds inside of pies so that when the pastry was cut into, they would fly out. Also, there were ice sculptures, foreign dishes, etc. I tried my best to create an accurate fifteenth century British court here, with a little bit of elvish flare, of course. Also, all of the food, drink and herbs Yusuke listed were common in Scotland during this period.

Also, whiskey and ale were the alcoholic drinks of choice in Scotland in the 1400s. Wine existed, but it wasn't preferred by highland Scots. I didn't see the need to break that tradition for Yusuke. As for his and Hokushin's exchange outside Yomi's castle, the language they spoke was actually Scottish. Here's a list of terms/phrases used:

Nyaff – irritating person

I'll gie ye a skelpit lug – I'll give you a slap on the ear.

Keep the heid – Stay calm.

Haud yer wheesht – Be quiet.

Bawheid. You're a wee scunner – Stupid, you're a little nuisance.

Finally, the dance Kurama leads Shizuru in is the paso doble. Yes, the paso doble as we know it did not appear until the early 1600s, but the dance has its origins in the middle ages so I went with it. Hope you enjoyed that exchange.

So, representatives from Hyouga crashed the party! What business could they have with Yomi? What's with the tension between Tourin and Gandara and what does it mean for our protagonists? It's time for medieval politics! Until next time!