Page 8 of The Tainted and the Tamed
Slipping on a pair of stealthy split-toed shoes, Haruki left his room through his personal garden. Nary a stone slid out of place as he sprung onto the roof. Nor did he make any sound as he ran lightly across the apex.
I’ll check on the rock pile, and then go to sleep. And maybe patrol the grounds, as long as I’m up. Then sleep.
He shouldn’t be wasting his energy this way—energy he’d stolen from Chiyo. If he did not rest as he should, the craving for blood would return sooner. Even Dr. Setouchi’s remedy could not curb it entirely.
Of course, the rock pile in the ravine was as he left it. A new wraith would struggle with such weight. But if Chiyo did rise, he must be prepared.
He must call in reinforcements.
I’ll patrol the grounds, then write a letter to Junpei. Then sleep for a few hours before my morning meetings.
Hours later, Haruki still strode the garden paths in the dwindling light of the stone lanterns, his fingers tied into a knot behind his back. It was the season of decay. Leaves that had fallen after the gardeners left for the day crunched underfoot as Haruki left the gravel pathways.
You need sleep.Even when he saw a familiar fox dart between the trees, he wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it.
Yet when he picked up the heartbeat of another sleepless castle resident, he found himself approaching the sound.
A smoky scent filled his nostrils.
The new maid paced in front of the servant’s entrance, flickering in and out of the light from the hanging lanterns. He kicked at some gravel to alert her. Mortals weren’t supposed to be quiet as mice.
She whirled immediately. “Who’s there?”
Her voice was all breath, and raspy.
His brows furrowing, Haruki made his way under a crooked bower, stepping onto the path. The new maid was clearly unwell.
“Good evening,” he said, bowing slightly. His cheeks flushed; he’d startled her.
“Oh! It’s you.” She tipped her head, her body shifting as though she longed to continue her pacing. A wracking cough worked its way up her throat, leaving her bent over in its wake.
Haruki didn’t know what to do. It had been far too long since he’d been face to face with human sickness. The proper etiquette escaped him. “Are you well?”
“I’m well,” she replied. “It’s only a little cough.”
It didn’t sound little at all.
Ah, but she was from the city, was she not? The smell of factory smoke and chemicals still clung to her. Why else would a person from the big city be eager to move to his rural prefecture?
She must be after both the doctor and our clean mountain air.
Haruki frowned. Just how sick was this new maid?
“I’m both sorry and pleased to see another servant who has trouble sleeping as I do,” Haruki said, hoping to put her at ease.
She nodded but said nothing. Her lips were parted, though. She must truly be having difficulty breathing.
He took a chance. Clearing his throat, Haruki said, “If that cough lingers, you should see Dr. Setouchi. I’m told he can treat almost anything.”
Haruki fought back a wince. He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have given her that hope. He knew full well what was in the air that had damaged her lungs.
He may have been born in a different era—several eras ago, in fact—but he’d acquired a good background in the sciences. Since these factories began sprouting up, he’d taken particular interest in chemistry.
And, likewise, a particular interest in keeping factory owners from building in Asano Prefecture.
“I am—scheduled with the doctor,” the maid replied, pausing for breath. “It is a—longer wait than I’d hoped.” She stopped, visibly shoving down another cough. “I didn’t get your—name last time.”
Where was his quickness at lying now? Haruki fumbled for a name. “H-Haruno,” he said, clearing his throat as if there’d been something in it. “Junpei.”
