Falling Through Glass

by Barbara Sheridan

  “Forgive me, Emiko.”

  “No need to apologize,” she muttered.

  With her brush box and scrolls clutched to her chest, she looked at Kojima and waited for him to lead the way. But he didn’t. He just stood there and looked at her.

  He looked at her with those dark eyes that had hypnotized her from the get-go. Her hand tingled and burned a bit where he’d bumped her, but it wasn’t a bad feeling by any means. He was an older guy, but he was dead-on sexy.

  “May I be forward, Emiko, and ask if you’d like to have tea with me before you return to the villa?”

  He smiled. It was only a hint of a smile, but it was incredible.

  And she was lonely.

  “I’d like that.”

  Kojima could have been giving her the secrets of the universe in with the small talk over tea and pastries, but Emmi wasn’t really paying attention. Instead she let herself be hypnotized by that deep, velvety voice and the way he looked at her, the way Kae had looked at her that night at that teahouse.

  However Emmi did notice when Kojima sent the serving girl away and poured the next cup of tea for her personally. He handed it to Emmi, and she was positive it was deliberate when his fingers touched hers.

  And lingered there, and sort of brushed against hers in a way that sent weird, hot shivers through her.

  She was way too lonely these days…and also more than a little horny. Damn.

  “I will miss our lessons together, Emiko, and I wish you to know that I will always be available to assist you in the future with any questions you may have on etiquette and what is required of you here.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No, Emiko. I. Thank. You. You have brought a breath of fresh air to this musty, ancient palace.”

  He smiled, and Emmi was certain the room’s temperature shot up a good ten degrees.

  “I want to fit in here,” she said, even though part of her wanted to cry because she mostly just wanted to go home where she belonged. She wanted to be where she knew what was what and how to behave, to be where no dumb mistake might get her killed for being a spy or worse.

  Kojima-san’s fan was suddenly on her chin, gently lifting her head. He looked at her, those sexy eyes of his full of concern. So much concern Emmi had to force herself not to lunge at him and hug him tight just to feel safe and secure. God but she was a pathetic, needy thing these days. Those women with the blackened teeth were a bad influence.

  “Tell me. What is troubling you?”

  Emmi shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just nervous about the wedding.”

  He nodded. “I see.” He leaned across the small table. “Emiko. I wish you to consider me a friend. A. Close. Friend. I am here for you.”

  “I’ll remember that.”

  She would also remember to stay as far away from this seductive older man as she could once she was stuck at the palace all day, every day.

  But you’ll also be stuck with Kae… As his wife… Maybe in his bed most of the day.

  * * * *

  Kae was the last person Emmi expected to run into when she returned to Katsura Villa following her semi-flirtatious tea. She was avoiding her room, where the dressmakers were waiting to use her as a mannequin again, when she came upon Kae talking to Takehito.

  Takehito made a quick exit, even though she didn’t want him to go.

  For two people who were getting married, it was a strange meeting. Emmi stared at Kae, he stared at her, and neither of them said anything.

  Until he decided to drop a bombshell.

  “You know that the wedding takes place the day after tomorrow?”

  “I know now. All I was told was, ‘The time. Is right.’”

  She thought he muttered Kojima’s name and the Japanese equivalent of asshole, but she wasn’t sure.

  “So, how have you been?” she asked with a bright smile as she folded her arms into her wide kimono sleeves in an effort not to throw herself at him He only stared in return, and she hoped he couldn’t read her thoughts as lurid, trashy old movie posters flashed through her mind. I Married a Nympho…

  “I have been busy,” he said simply, leaving far too much unsaid for Emmi’s imagination to run with.

  Emmi cleared her throat. “I’ve also been busy learning all about complicated and boring court customs and practicing my calligraphy and poetry that I hate practicing. But I did make a new friend—”

  “Stay away from Kojima.”

  She stared at Kae. “Excuse me?”

  “Kojima Toshimasa is no friend to me. He can be no friend to you. I will not allow it.”

  “You won’t allow it?” She laughed. “And who do you think you are to tell me who can and cannot be my friend?”

  “Your husband. You will belong to me. You will do what I tell you to do.”

  Emmi put her hands on her hips, or where her hips should have been under all that padding. “You think I’ll do what you tell me, when you tell me, just because you told me to?”

  Um, Em, her common sense whispered in her head. This is 1864 Japan. He will ‘own’ you, and you will have to do what he says or he could have you imprisoned or killed.

  He wouldn’t do that. He liked her. He more than liked her. After all, he’d agreed to this arranged marriage.

  Agreed. Right. His father had undoubtedly told him the marriage was a done deal the way Takehito had told her.

  She was doomed.

  Emmi opened her mouth to say something, to try to make peace with him, but it was too late. Kae had turned and quickly disappeared down the corridor.

  With a sigh, she decided that being a mannequin for an hour or two was better than worrying about her pathetic new life, so she trudged back to her room.

  * * * *

  For Emmi’s ‘Royal Wedding’ there was no golden, horse-drawn carriage, but there was a pretty, painted palanquin. While there was no gown and veil trailing far behind her, she did get to be sausage-stuffed into layers of rich silk that weighed a good twenty pounds.

  First there was an under kimono, then a hakama skirt that seemed four feet too long, leaving her feet around where a giant’s knees would be. How she was supposed to walk in this thing was anybody’s guess. Already she could hardly stand without feeling tangled, but the ancient lady helping her dress added yet another robe then the kimono with multiple half-layers that were sewn together to look like five complete kimono stacked one inside the other next. Then another one with long, wide sleeves and finally the heaviest, white kimono.

  Emmi also had copious amounts of sticky, greasy gunk in her hair so the maids could give her the traditional perfect wedding hairstyle, complete with a lot of tortoiseshell sticks and combs that made her look like some spiky-headed evil goddess.

  She looked much nicer than she had for the movie scene, but was it really necessary to put greasy stuff in her hair that was not going to wash out without decent shampoos? They were just going to shove a gigantic white hood on her to cover it all up.

  As she made her slow, stuffed-sausage way to the palanquin, the old school hair gel kept the combs and hood from slipping over her eyes, so she decided it wasn’t that bad. Walking, however, was still a pain in the ass, and she prayed she wouldn’t fall on the skirt that was trailing under her feet.

  Takehito and his son were at the waiting palanquin, all smiles and dressed in their equally uncomfortable-looking, court-appropriate attire with the weird little hats.

  A wave of sadness hit Emmi as she looked into Takehito’s eyes and sort of saw her father there. Part of her girlish wedding fantasies had always revolved around his bright smile as he walked her down a long aisle. She managed not to cry, mainly because it would have left big tear streaks cutting through the Goth-white makeup that the maids had plastered on her face.

  They arrived at the palace. Countless bowing and scraping men greeted them before ushering Emmi into a room with a gaggle of chattering court ladies to await the “big moment.” It freaked her out to notice that they all had that
nasty black crud on their teeth. She was not going to go there, and there was no way Kae was going to make her.

  So you think, that slutty part of her brain snickered just before it chose to conjure up a memory of that one night in the teahouse. All right, he probably could talk her into just about anything if he touched her as he had then…

  Tonight’s the night, baby!

  The whole wedding-night-to-be suddenly felt awfully daunting, but she wasn’t able to dwell on it. The women became excited when a servant came in with a message. They ushered her toward a small room that seemed to be a half mile away.

  Kae was already there. He had his back to her but then slowly turned. While the majority of men present looked rather dorky, he was actually hot in his black and white court outfit. He even made the little hat with the ribbon tail look good. He watched Emmi as she slowly made her way in the overly long skirt to kneel beside him. Within seconds, however, he turned his head to stare at the far wall, and a part of her withered away.

  While Emmi’s family kept close to their Japanese heritage, her cousins’ weddings, both in California and Hawaii, had been very Westernized, with the exchange of rings and I do’s and the whole nine yards.

  But here she and Kae had a girl all of eighteen, who was definitely giving Kae the eye, as if she wanted him for herself. The girl took a small handleless cup, poured sake in it, then gave it to Kae. She refilled it and gave it to Emmi. They did that twice more and the ceremony was over.

  No I do. No ring. And certainly no big kiss at the end.

  However, they did have something of a reception. After the sake drinking, Kae led the way into a room that was the size of a basketball court. Takehito, his son and Kae’s father were there. The bowing and scraping guys who had greeted Emmi when she first arrived were all there as well, along with many unfamiliar faces and one very familiar, friendly one.

  It was Kojima-san, and he bowed his head and smiled at Emmi. She smiled back, almost hypnotized by the way he watched her. His stare was even more drop-dead sexy than she remembered.

  Up at the front of the room was a low platform with a bamboo curtain pulled almost to the floor. Someone was behind it. A man, it seemed to be, and Emmi realized who it was—the emperor.

  Finally it all hit her through the pleasant fog of the fine sake that she’d so quickly consumed. This was really real. She was married, and to a real live prince of all people.

  She followed Kae to the empty place at the back of the room, and after lot of breath holding and slow movements, she managed not to tangle her legs in the long hakama. She was able to kneel beside him on one of the large cushions that faced out to the guests who were seated along each side of the room.

  All eyes were upon them as they sat together. Takehito smiled. Kae’s father smiled. Emmi returned their smiles and was certain that behind the shadowy screen even the emperor smiled. Everyone smiled.

  Everyone except Kae. He stared into the big empty space at the center of the room, looking like a guy who’d rather be any place but there and with anyone but her.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Emmi wished this wedding reception was similar to ones back home, where the bride and groom could mingle with their guests. Instead she was stuck, kneeling next to Kae, who struck up conversations with everyone except her.

  Her only entertainment was being allowed to change clothes a few times. The ladies-in-waiting ushered her off to change, then she was ushered back to the same reception room and plunked down again and again beside the same cold-as-ice Kae. To make matters worse, she wasn’t able to dress in anything more comfortable. Well, she was able to ditch the ridiculously long hakama at the last change.

  The long day’s one saving grace was that, as the sake flowed, the rules broke down a bit, particularly after the emperor went to wherever emperors spent their time. Takehito and Sadanori came to sit near her, shared a drink or three, and expounded on what a great day this was for the Maeda and how proud and happy they were for her.

  That makes two of you, she thought as she watched Kae, laughing with some men who she guessed were his friends, and that babe who’d poured the ceremonial wedding sake. She was right there, pouring for all the men in the group, letting her fingers brush against theirs and batting her eyes like it was an accident.

  When Takehito and Sadanori moved off to talk to other people Emmi was left alone, which reminded her of her first few weeks in high school. None of her friends had gone to the private school where her parents had enrolled her. The other freshmen had been together all through junior high. She’d been a class of one. She’d hated it then, and she hated it now that her new life as a princess by marriage was proving much the same.

  Who could she strike up a conversation with, and hopefully become friends with, here?

  “Such a beautiful bride you are, Emiko.”

  Emmi pulled herself out of her pity party and looked over to Kojima-san. “Thank you.”

  “Do not thank me for speaking the truth.” He poured her a cup of sake. “I look forward to having many more enjoyable conversations with you as we’ve had these past weeks.” He stared at her with those hypnotizing eyes while that silky-smooth deep voice of his wrapped itself around her lonely heart. “I look forward to it.”

  “Me, too—” She stopped short when she was tugged from behind.

  “Emiko, it is time to leave,” Kae said in a commanding, flat tone.

  Of course it was time to go. It was time to go because she was finally having fun with her very own friend!

  This arranged marriage thing, being the obedient wife, was going to be quite the royal pain the ass, but she was stuck. Literally stuck, she realized, in a tangle of kimono and numbed ankles from being in the kneeling seiza position for so long.

  Suddenly Kojima was gone, and Kae was giving her an Evil Glare of Doom and tugging on her sleeve.

  “If you help me stand, I will,” she grumbled.

  With a scowl, he pulled her up and brought home the intoxicating power packed into those many sips of sake. Who’d have thought such tiny cups could contain so much alcohol? The room lurched to a crazy angle. She had to clutch Kae’s arm and let him lead her to the corridor.

  Her inner slut partied in the far reaches of her brain, shouting giddily, Woohoo! This is it, girlfriend! The Wedding Night Thing is happening!

  Or not, her inner slut observed when Kae turned her over to a couple of older ladies-in-waiting. They hustled her through this corridor and that corridor, then outside and into another building, through more corridors, and finally into a big room with fancy painted screens and gold–trimmed lacquered cabinets. Inside, the abundance of spicy incense made her sneeze.

  She was only vaguely aware of their constant chatter as they pulled her out of the layers of silk and padding. That part she appreciated. She also appreciated the fact that they allowed her to wash the deadly lead-based makeup from her face.

  While she was scrubbing away, someone came in with a tray of tea things and a plate of small sugar cakes and rice balls. They set the pot of hot water on the metal warmer off to the side of the table before scurrying away like cartoon mice.

  Emmi laughed. They weren’t like cartoon mice. This was Japan. They were anime mice with big, big eyes, little noses, short LoliGoth skirts and big boobs.

  Laughing harder, she lifted this latest kimono up a bit and plopped down cross-legged on one of the soft floor cushions. She munched a rice ball and enjoyed feeling tipsy. She felt better now that she was out of all that stuff, excluding the greasy hair gunk that she wasn’t ready to think about just now. This kimono was very nice. It was light and simple without the overly long sleeves she’d been wearing recently. She felt so much lighter and freer just being naked under this…

  Her underwear—whatever happened to her underwear from home? Kae had done something with the bra and panties after that night in the teahouse, but he’d never given them back.

  A thoroughly crazy idea hit her. It couldn’t be, could it
? Was he some nineteenth-century cross-dresser? Did they even have cross-dressers in the nineteenth century? Not counting the Kabuki theater, of course. Emmi continued to munch her rice ball and let her tipsy brain conjure images of Kae in her lingerie. She laughed. A lot.

  Maybe she was a bit more than just tipsy from the sake.

  Kae dismissed the servants who’d come to tend him. He shed the ridiculous court costume, slipped into a simple yukata and stretched out on his futon, or rather, one of the two new futons that had been placed side by side in his bedroom.

  The sound of Emmi’s laughter drifted to him through the papered walls separating their rooms. She’d been so beautiful today, so graceful and noble, as if she’d been born a princess. But she hadn’t. She hadn’t even been born in Japan. She hadn’t even been born into the same world that he had.

  He knew now that she wasn’t an oni, or a potential spy, or even the orphaned niece of the Maeda lord. Takehito had told him the truth, as unbelievable as it was. It had to be truth, the man was no fool. And he wouldn’t tell such a tale lightly. It might very well have him branded as insane or a barbarian sorcerer.

  Emmi was of Maeda blood, but she would not be born into their family for well over a century. She had come from the mirror. Somehow she had slipped through the barriers of time, and he had saved her from a certain death by fire in the “modern” Kyoto from which she’d come.

  His father had no idea of the truth and never would if Kae could help it. He’d arranged this marriage to bring money to his own family and to help strengthen kobu gattai—the ties between court and state—much in the way the marriage of the emperor’s sister to the shogun had been designed to unite the aristocratic and military powers.

  But Takehito had agreed to it solely to protect one lost girl who carried the blood of Maeda samurai in her veins.

  How could he not believe the older man who’d prostrated himself on the floor and begged him to marry Emmi, to keep her safe in the ensuing civil war they both knew was lurking just on the horizon of Japan’s future?