“Come,” I said, already working at the ties of my training clothes. “Before I collapse where I stand.”
Entering the bathing chamber always felt like stepping into another world. Steam rose from a stone pool set into the floor as moisture carried the faint scent of minerals and mountain herbs. Paper screens covered the windows, their frames creating shadows that danced in the lamplight. The walls were naked stone, worn smooth and dark with age and humidity.
I heard the water before I saw it—a constant trickle that flowed from a carved dragon’s mouth set into the far wall. The stream ran ice-cold when I tested it with my fingers, fresh from some mountain source beyond the temple’s walls. Yet somehow, by the time it filled the pool, it steamed with perfect heat.
“I still can’t understand it,” I murmured, kneeling beside the pool’s edge. The stone was black, polished to a mirror finish, and deep enough that I couldn’t see the bottom even in the lamplight. “The water enters cold, but the pool is always hot. And where does it drain? It never overflows, yet water constantly flows in.”
“Mahou,” Esumi said simply, setting our clean robes on the wooden bench. “Some mysteries aren’t meant to be solved, only enjoyed.”
I slipped into the water with a groan of pleasure that echoed off the stone. Heat seeped into my bones, unknotting muscles I hadn’t realized remained tense, and steam rose around me like incense smoke. I breathed deeply, feeling the day’s exhaustion beginning to melt away.
“This is almost worth every bruise,” I sighed, sinking deeper until the water lapped at my chin.
Esumi entered the pool with more grace, barely disturbing the surface. The lamplight caught the drops of water on his skin,turning them to amber and gold. He moved toward me. I turned, presenting my back against him without being asked.
His hands were gentle as they worked across my shoulders, kneading the knots from muscles still trembling from exertion. The soft cloth he’d brought was rough enough to clean but soft enough not to irritate the spectacular collection of purple and black painting my torso.
“This one’s turning dark,” he observed, fingers ghosting over my ribs where hisbokkenhad connected during morning practice.
“Whose fault is that?”
“Yours, for dropping your guard.” But as he teased, he pressed his lips to the bruise, his touch so light I might have imagined it. “Though I may have struck a tad harder than necessary.”
The sound of water trickling from the dragon’s mouth provided a constant melody, mixing with our breathing and occasional splashes as we moved.
“Turn,” Esumi commanded, and I obeyed, facing him in the water.
His hands continued their work, carefully around each mark. When he reached a particularly tender spot on my shoulder, he made a sound of sympathy and leaned forward, pressing another kiss . . . then another on my collarbone where a faint purple line marked yet another hit.
“You’re painting me with kisses,” I murmured.
“It’s healing magic,” he replied, lips quirking in that tiny smile I lived for. “Ancient technique. Very secret.”
“Is that what Master Chen taught you?”
“Master Chen taught me many things; but this, I learned on my own.”
The kitchen had given us only cold rice when we’d finally finished with Yoshi, and my stomach chose that moment to voiceits complaint. The sound echoed in the chamber, startlingly loud.
Esumi laughed, the sound rich and warm. “Even your stomach has no sense of timing.”
“It’s a family trait.”
We stayed in the pool until our fingers pruned and the lamp oil burned low, casting longer shadows across the walls. The mysterious heat never faded, the water as warm when we finally emerged as when we’d entered.
Back in our chamber, we dried ourselves and collapsed onto our pallet. The mountain air through our window was cold against our heated skin, raising goosebumps along my arms.
Despite my exhaustion, sleep felt distant. I stared at the beams crisscrossing the ceiling with thoughts churning like the streams that fed our mysterious bath.
“What is it?” Esumi asked, turning onto his side and propping himself on an elbow, always attuned to my moods. “I can hear you thinking. It’s distracting.”
“I wish we could stay here forever,” I said quietly, ignoring his jab. “At Suwa. This temple, these mountains, that impossible bath . . . the peace of it all . . . it feels more like home than the palace ever did.”
“Haru—”
“I know,” I cut him off, not wanting to hear talk of privilege and duty, especially from him. Releasing a deep breath, I went on. “Working with Yoshi today, seeing his potential and helping him discover what he’s capable of—Es, I feeluseful, like I have a purpose.” I turned to face him in the darkness. “Here, I’m not a prince or even much of a royal. At least, sometimes they let me forget my title. I’m definitely not a disappointing third son who’ll never measure up to his brothers.”
“You’renotdisappointing,” Esumi said firmly, his hand finding mine. “You’re brilliant and talented and—”
