And drowning, I didn’t add.
“Right. No more talking. I might die from your breath before we get out of here.”
Without another word, the lion hauled me to my feet and dragged me down the street. I tried to walk on my own but stumbled and slammed into the side of a building. We madeit three blocks before I could totter forward with only a little support.
The stranger’s voice carried the accent of the noble districts, his movements spoke of formal training, and his presence at the Crab suggested someone comfortable operating outside of official channels.
He appeared to be the kind of person who might have reasons to track wayward princes.
But what kind of man did that make him?
A quarter hour later, we entered a shop whose sign bore no lettering, only the carved image of a white-painted bowl.
“Where are we?” I asked as I scanned a room filled with shelves covered in plates, bowls, and cups of every shape and color. The craftsmanship was exquisite—too fine for common trade. “Please don’t fill one of those. I can’t—my head can’t—”
“No more sake for you tonight.” The lion laughed as he lowered me onto a cushion on the floor. “This is my grandmother’s shop. She’s . . . traveling . . . and won’t be back for some time.”
The pause was careful and practiced.
Another lie, then, or at least not the whole truth.
I crossed my legs, then leaned forward and planted my elbows on my knees and held my head. I groaned and tore the cloth from my face.
A gasp from my unknown companion lifted my eyes.
“My prince,” the lion said, dropping to his knees and pressing his masked forehead to the floor.
So much for anonymity.
“Please, stop that. You saved my ass. I think we’re well past courtly niceties.” I rubbed my aching temples. “And take off that mask before I think lions actually roam the streets of Bara.”
The man straightened, and the lion vanished.
The face of a young man little older than my own twenty-some years peered back.
Beneath a patchwork of bruises and scrapes, I saw smooth skin and an angular jaw. The man’s hair was pulled back in a tight, perfectly tied topknot, giving his near-feminine features a proud form.
The lion-turned-man grinned. “Your ass needed some serious saving, that’s for sure.”
I tried to stand but wobbled as I grasped for the nearby wall. The man’s arm was beneath me in a flash. “Please, Highness, let me help you.”
“No more of that ‘Highness’ shite, all right. My name is Haru, nothing else.”
Once I could manage standing on my own, the man took a step back and bowed low again.
“I am Esumi, Your—Haru-sama,” Esumi said, unable to resist the ingrained need to attach a nearly-deific honorific to my name.
I started to protest the show of extreme reverence but stilled my tongue when I noticed a hint of a smirk at the corner of Esumi’s mouth. My rescuer wasmockinghis own formality even as he performed it.
“How long have you been following me?” I asked.
“Three weeks.”
The honesty surprised me. “And you didn’t know me? Had no idea who I was?”
Esumi looked away. “I . . . well . . .”
“Well?”
