When I slid the door open, Kicho was sitting beside the bedding, her back straight.
Her profile in the lamplight was every bit as beautiful as the rumors said. But more than that beauty, something else caught my eye.
Her eyes.
Cold as if frozen, piercing straight through me. No joy, no shyness. Only wariness, and a disgust she couldn't quite hide.
Seeing those eyes, I actually calmed down a little.
Ah. She hates this too.
I slid the door shut behind me and sat down as far from the bedding as I could. I didn't want to get even a pace closer. She must have felt the same; the faintest sense of relief came across from her.
For a while, neither of us said anything.
The lamp wick sputtered.
I didn't take my eyes off her sleeves and her hands. There was no telling when a blade would come out. My heart was pounding like an alarm bell inside my ribs. She was watching me just as warily.
—It was a standoff.
A suffocating silence, as if the two of us had been thrown alone into the middle of a battlefield.
At last, Kicho spoke. Her voice was like ice.
"My lord."
"...What."
"You think I am my father's creature, do you not?"
I flinched.
She'd seen right through me.
I couldn't answer on the spot. Because she'd hit the mark. Instead of an answer, cold sweat ran down my temple.
Kicho was watching that sweat. And then her eyes narrowed slightly.
"A strange husband. You ought to be wary of me—and yet you are trembling."
Damn, I thought. I couldn't hide it anymore. Even if I did hide it, this woman had seen through me from the start.
I gave up. Not the same as steeling myself. I just didn't have the strength to keep up the bluff any longer.
I let out a deep breath and spat out the truth.
"...I am afraid."
Kicho's eyebrows moved, just slightly.
"I am afraid. Afraid of you. Afraid of people. When will my throat be cut in my sleep, when will I be poisoned—thinking of it, I cannot sleep at night. If you are your father's spy, then one day you will kill me. Thinking that—I cannot stop shaking, like this."
Even I couldn't believe those were words a husband would say to his new bride.
But by then, I didn't care.
"But. I will tell you one thing."
I looked Kicho straight in the eye.
"I want neither the realm nor your bed. I have no intention of forcing myself on you, nor of rushing an heir for the Oda. There is only one thing I want—to survive. Tomorrow, and the day after that, to be killed by no one, and simply to live. That is all."
When I'd finished, I hung my head, drained.
Now Kicho would send word to Mino. That the Oda son-in-law was a fool and an utter coward. Mino's soldiers might attack as soon as tomorrow.
But strangely, I had no regrets.
I'd always wanted to try telling someone the truth.
There was a long silence.
And at last.
Kicho let out a small breath.
She'd laughed.
When I raised my head, the disgust had vanished from that face that had been frozen a moment ago. In its place was something soft—a color something like relief.
"My lord," Kicho said.
"I too shall speak plainly. I dislike men. And being made a tool of politics—I loathe it, from the bottom of my heart. I came here as a bride at my father's command, but in truth, I never wished to be anyone's wife."
Kicho straightened her back, smooth and composed.
"But—a husband who says he wants neither the realm nor the bed, only to survive. That, I have never met before."
And then she said this.
The words that would change my whole life.
"You are an amusing man. Very well—I shall play your wife."