The corner of the room was the safest place in the world. Several days had passed since that night. Kagetora's words—"I don't want to be touched by the enemy's woman"—remained lodged in the center of her chest. Every time she tried to pull it free, it seemed to dig deeper, so Hikaru had stopped trying to think about it at all. Tae brought meals every morning. The portion of barley rice had returned to something closer to normal—that alone was the only shape kindness took within the castle walls. But Tae always left the room quickly. Whenever footsteps sounded in the hallway, Hikaru could see Tae's shoulders tense. She couldn't bring herself to blame her for it. Her eyes were swollen. She hadn't looked in a mirror, so she hadn't confirmed it, but every morning when she opened her eyes, her eyelids felt heavy. The amount she ate at meals had decreased. It wasn't that her stomach wasn't hungry—it was hungry, but she had no desire to eat. She counted the water stains on the ceiling. She