I stood on my balcony in the chill, cradling the cup of tea in my hands. It was some time until supper, yet I needed the warmth back in my bones since returning from the frigid woods. I had changed into a finer robe and knotted my hair in the fashion married women did, so I would look presentable to my lord when I went to dine with him.

It was known that Ashiro preferred to take his meals alone, the great dining hall reserved for feasts and formal occasions. However, as I was his wife, I would be taking my suppers with him from then on, in the privacy of his quarters.

I dreaded company with him after the previous night. What would it hold in store for me? I expected a scolding at best, his wrathful silence at worst. I had mentally rehearsed an apology to make when the time was right, hoping it would be enough to make amends for the spectacle I had caused.

His quarters were across from mine, accessible by the walkways that connected most of the buildings of his house. I could see them from where I stood, but they were unlit, perhaps since he was somewhere else within the house, waiting out when he would have supper with me, just as I stood waiting, afraid of his company.

The clack of sandals broke through my thoughts, and I turned to look down the walkway, expecting Komo or Hotaki to summon me to supper, only to be disappointed when I saw it was neither of them.

It was Itsua.

I remained where I was, wary of his presence, as his behavior before the wedding had concerned me.

"Yori," he said, pausing some feet away from me. "I have come to tell you good-bye."

I took another sip of my tea to hide my wariness of him. "Are you leaving?"

He nodded. "Everything between Lord Ashiro-han's house and your father's is settled. Your family is now tied to his, and they shall be well off."

It was good to hear. I allowed a small smile in Itsua's direction, for though I was on guard against him, his words brought me relief.

"I suppose this is the last we shall be seeing of each other for some time."

It did not cause me sadness. In fact, I was nearly overjoyed that Itsua and I would be separated by the sea for who knew how long. In fact, I saw little need for him to visit the island except on account of my father, and in return, I had no intentions of going to the mainland to visit him.

"Do not hope that we'll see each other again," I said. I looked ahead, across the courtyard and the bare, grey trees. "I don't see myself leaving this island." It felt strange to voice my own fears to Itsua, a man I could hardly imagine as my husband, yet I was now firm in my belief that I would live my remaining years—however few I had left—on the island, and could not keep it sealed within me.

Itsua said nothing for some time. Finally, he sighed, and spoke. "I could have given you a better future." His voice was soft, hardly above a whisper. "I can only offer my deepest regret that this has come upon you."

I turned to him, and was for a moment struck by the sorrow I saw in his eyes. It vanished as soon as I saw it, replaced with that which I was familiar—the way he always looked down on me, as if I was lesser than he. Not even my position as lady of the island would give him cause to respect me.

"Your mother was right," he said. The whisper was gone. "You are selfish, and now look what you've got for yourself."

I faced him, refusing to lower my head in his presence. My prayer to not be his wife had not been answered in my favor. Perhaps he was right. My selfishness had sealed my doom. But I could not fathom being Itsua's wife; he had never been kind to me, never been gentle, only treated me as an object, a prize he was patiently waiting to win. I was sure that my marriage to him would end the way his previous one had, and I would seek love somewhere else, and take my life to spare myself the shame.

"My family is better off now than they would have been had I married you," I said.

"And you think this justifies your marriage to Lord Ashiro-han? You'll only end up like all the others." He shook his head. "Just look at you. He must have no interest in you—maybe that's the reason he hasn't touched you at all."

I knew he referenced my bare head. My face burned, and I took a breath to calm the sudden anger flaring within my chest. "A fate like this is better than being your wife." I was tired, and Itsua's presence had begun to wear me thin. I was finished trying my best to be polite. "I would accept anything above being the mother to your children, bound to you until I died. Perhaps your wife was right in seeking love outside your marriage."

Something flashed in his eyes; before I could move back, he struck me across my face. The force of it knocked my tea out of my hands and sent me stumbling. My head hit the stone wall beside me, and I crumpled to the ground, much in the same way as I had that fateful night in which my betrothal to Itsua had been dismissed.

"Yori!" At once he was at my side, his face pale. "Yori, forgive me—I had no control over myself."

I swatted his hands away as he reached for me, standing on my own. "Don't touch me," I ordered him. I stepped back, away from him, as he drew to his feet. My head already ached from hitting the wall, yet I would not let Itsua see me in a state of weakness. "I am the lord's wife. How dare you raise a hand against me."

"You must understand me..." he protested.

I held up my hands in the silencing gesture. "A man who uses violence against a woman deserves no voice," I said.

I could see Itsua clench his jaw as he regarded my hands, his chest rise and fall with an angry breath.

"I could report this to my husband, but I will spare you that punishment." I pointed down the walkway, indicating for him to leave. "As lady of this island, and wife of Lord Ashiro-han, I now forbid you from stepping foot on this island again, until notice from either me or my husband."

I had never felt such confidence, nor taken such authority on myself, but he had struck me; something he had never done before. I was suddenly afraid he had used it often on his wife, and no doubt would not have refrained from using it on me.

"Go," I ordered.

Itsua hesitated, appearing as if he wanted to speak, but was commanded to remain silent. The sorrow was gone, replaced with a deep scowl. He turned on his heel without a last look at me and stormed away down the walkway.

Once he was out of sight, I picked up the teacup and retreated to the silence of my room to await Komo, who was to show me to Ashiro's chambers for supper.