Page 9 of The Tainted and the Tamed
His closest friend would forgive him for borrowing the name.
“Pleased to—meet you,” she replied with a bow.
“Likewise,” he half-mumbled.
Despite the raspiness of her breaths, when she smiled, her whole face lit up.
“I must be off,” he said quickly, not bothering with a reasonable excuse. “Good night, Ms. Mukai.”
“Good night, Mr. Haruno.”
Looking upon her smiling face in the light of the moon and the lantern flames, Haruki had felt his immortal heart quicken its slow pace. In that moment, he’d almost felt human.
The feeling revolted him, then flooded him with white-hot guilt as he hurried away, ducking through the trees so she would lose sight of him.
Only time would tell if he had turned his lover into the worst of all monsters.
Haruki did not deserve to feel human ever again.
Chapter 5
Murasaki
For the second time in as many nights, sleep became impossible for Murasaki. The darkness was stifling—like being buried alive. She could not breathe with it bearing down on her chest. She’d do anything to switch on a lamp.
The other maids slept around her peacefully, their breathing even. The way Murasaki bolted upright in bed, every gulp of air squeezed out through a tea spout, disturbed them none.
But she could not light a candle or lamp. She could not open a window and let the clean, cold air in, or step onto the noisy floors of the hall. It was so close to morning. She didn’t want to be responsible for waking everyone early.
She struck at her chest, wild-eyed as a spooked horse as she struggled to breathe through her congested airways.
I can’t stay here. If I get up—if I could just walk around, it will clear.Even thinking this was difficult. Every animal instinct had taken over, her only thought of getting more air.
When she slid from beneath her blankets, dizziness struck her. She had to lean against the wall, her tented hand landing with athwunk.
Still, her roommates did not stir.
Fumbling through the dark, Murasaki managed to slide open a door to the neighboring room, hoping she could pace there without disturbing anyone. As she entered, the scent of clean linens overpowered her.
Air. I need air.
No matter how long she circled and thumped her back and chest, the congestion would not dislodge. She gave up on stealth and opened the door, her bare feet touching the floor planks.
No sound. Good.
Like a cat, she tested the spot, shifting her weight gradually. It creaked like a rusty hinge.
She had no time to worry for such things. The hall tilted as she hastened to the genkan, not bothering with shoes, and threw open the door. The crisp air of autumn rushed in to meet her.
Allowing it to envelop her, she walked onto the gravel path, every irregular stone pressing into her soles. The cold gave her a ragged cough that burned in her chest.
Doubled over now, she forced herself to breathe.In, out. Let the cold air soothe the inflammation.
It took time, but her wheeze quieted and her stunted breaths became less frightening. Gradually, she straightened.
Something ran across the gravel path—a fox, most like. Though her heart beat even faster in surprise, a smile formed on her lips.
I must be feeling better, to smile so. Perhaps the fresh mountain air has helped. She stepped onto the grass, pacing while she continued to percuss her chest.
