Abijah had never considered himself the sensitive, sentimental type. He had no problem getting rid of men or women he'd been fooling around with to pass the time. He was the sort of man who truly didn't care and wasn't afraid to remind a lovestruck girl or a cocky man of it.

He wasn't sure what it was about you. Sure, you were drop-dead gorgeous, smart and well-spoken. That came with the territory - the child of a well-known daimyo, raised on silk sheets and bathed in milk. That Shindo bastard had actually managed to procreate, shocking as it was.

But you were also the exact kind of person Abijah usually liked to crush beneath his heel. He despised the Japanese nobles, and you were no better. He knew that, deep down.

So why, then, did he hold you with such care? Why did he touch you in passing so gently? It was a true mystery to him. Perhaps it was in part awe, since Heiji had managed to create something so delicate and beautiful with that face.

Abijah had just arrived back at the castle from a business trip, his boots heavy on the wood. His footsteps were just as heavy on the tatami as he approached your room. "What are you doin', darlin'?" He watched you sit in front of a mirror.