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There were times when Minamoto no Hiromasa prided himself on his powers of deduction. He attributed this in part to his friendship with Abe no Seimei, but felt certain that most of his skills were innate. Thus, when he arrived at Seimei's estate one winter afternoon and heard the unexpected sound of laughter, he attempted to smother his surprise with logic.

Amongst the frost-tipped roses, which were still alive in Seimei's garden with blatant disregard for the season, he stopped and listened. Seimei's laughter was unmistakable, bright and clear. The second voice was one Hiromasa didn't recognise, its laughter low, almost gruff. Startled, for Seimei didn't often entertain visitors, Hiromasa hurried along the path to the house.

His curiosity piqued further when he saw the external blinds lowered midway around the veranda. Turning, he squinted up at the sun. The light was strong and raking, but surely not enough to disturb Seimei. Therefore, Hiromasa decided, Seimei's visitor must have some dislike of the sun. The laughter had been too deep for a woman, who would of course prefer shadowed intimacy. It had been too loud for a nobleman, who doubtless would prefer to keep the sun from his white complexion. A commoner may perhaps have such a low, barking laugh, but Hiromasa couldn't recall any commoners visiting Seimei before. Therefore, the conclusion was inescapable: Seimei's visitor was a demon.

Not a dangerous demon, obviously: but a demon nonetheless. Pleased with his reasoning, Hiromasa strolled along the gallery and peeped around the corner-post to see if his deduction was correct.

Even with the blinds half-lowered, Seimei sat in his usual place. The light cut across the immaculate white of his hunting costume, giving the illusion of a haze of palest gold over his layered winter robes of plum, lilac and white. He toyed with a fan patterned with splashes of crimson against a black gloss background, and smiled with easy affection at his companion.

Hiromasa drew in his breath. Seimei's visitor was not a demon but a young man.

Skin still flushed with the warmth of laughter, the young man's beauty was simple and breathtaking. Like Seimei, he had the kind of looks that most troubled polite society: a narrow face with a pointed chin and sharp cheekbones, long eyes and an intense gleaming gaze beneath bold, arched brows. His mouth was full, his smile enchanting. Hiromasa couldn't look away from him.

This youth – or was he older? Hiromasa's vision blurred and he shook his head to clear it – had skin as pale as the moon through a fine paper screen. Against his damask robes of violet and blue, he seemed fragile and ethereal. Even in the shadow of the blinds, he was so pale that beside him, Seimei looked dark.

Hiromasa made a sound of astonishment, alerting both men to his presence.

"Ah." Seimei smiled over the top of his fan, his eyes bright with familiar mischief. "Hiromasa, welcome. We were just discussing life at court."

"You were?" Hiromasa blinked, his gaze wandering from Seimei to the beautiful young man and back again. "You haven't been at court for a month. Your gossip will be out of date."

Seimei's brows lifted. "I do not gossip."

Hiromasa chuckled at his friend's hauteur. His laughter died as he felt his focus drift back to the young man. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen such a beauty. Surely this youth hadn't been presented yet for service in the palace. Every courtier, both male and female, would be scrambling to seek his favours – but from the look the youth directed towards Seimei, it seemed his favours had already been won.

Jealousy was a poor emotion, and one Hiromasa didn't often experience. He told himself he had no reason for it now. Never had Seimei shown him so much as a flicker of interest; and Hiromasa, afraid of losing the friendship of the most fascinating man he'd ever met, was too cautious to admit to feelings he couldn't control. The balance of their relationship was peaceful, comfortable. But now this youth, this beautiful rival, sat with Seimei in smug intimacy, and Hiromasa didn't like it.

He shot a pointed glance at the young man and murmured, "Excuse me, Seimei, but I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting your companion before."

"How very remiss of me." The fan snapped shut and Seimei laid it on the veranda. He set his hands in his lap, a watchful expression behind his eyes. "Permit me to introduce my cousin, Nakahara no Kikui. He's staying with me for a short while." He turned to the youth. "Cousin, this is Minamoto no Hiromasa."

Hiromasa inclined his head in greeting. Hiding his relief, he tried not to stare at Kikui. It proved impossible, especially now he knew the family connection. It was a good excuse to study the young man openly. "Your cousin? Yes, of course. I can see the resemblance."

Kikui smirked, which made the resemblance even more pronounced.

"Sit, Hiromasa." Seimei leaned back and smiled. "How fortunate you decided to visit. My cousin craves the experience of addressing a noble above seventh rank."

Hiromasa sniffed and attempted to look suitably aristocratic. "You are so informal, Seimei. Your cousin would be wise not to emulate the way you loll around."

Seimei chuckled and straightened up, reclaiming his fan as he did so.

Hiromasa seated himself, arranging his black silks around him. He cast a glance towards Kikui, who seemed to be watching him with fascination. Hiromasa told himself it was because the youth had never encountered anyone of high rank before. Either that or he'd fastened his court cap incorrectly.

Before he could worry too much about it, Mitsumushi appeared from the shadows with a jug of sake and three wine cups. When Hiromasa took the jug from her, the butterfly-spirit beamed and murmured her thanks. She knelt and poured sake into the cups, then withdrew beneath the blinds into the sunlit garden.

Seimei opened his fan, touching it to his cheek before he returned to their conversation. "Kikui is from Tajima."

Hiromasa took a moment to think where Tajima was located. He had a vague idea it lay to the south-west. "I hope your journey was not arduous," he remarked to the young man, and raised his cup in welcome before he drank.

"Not at all. Every step away from Tajima felt like a blessing." Kikui fiddled with his wine cup, pushing it sideways, his fingers held stiffly together. A small noise of frustration huffed out before he continued, "I was glad to leave my home. I wanted to see what life was like in the capital." He pushed the cup back in the opposite direction, almost spilling its contents.

Hiromasa frowned. It was as if Kikui had never drunk from a cup before. His fingers seemed unable to curve around it, no matter how many times he tried. Such a graceless action from one so beautiful seemed peculiar, but perhaps Kikui had injured his hand and could no longer bend his fingers. In any case, it would be ill-mannered to remark on the disability. Hiromasa tried to find another polite question. "You came alone?"

Kikui abandoned his cup. "Yes. My parents tried to stop me, begging me not to leave. They feared no good would come to me in Heian-Kyo. My father especially spoke against my decision." A slight sneer curled the edges of his mouth. "But what do they know? They are simple provincials who have no concept of life outside their estate. They have no concept of anything!"

Hiromasa glanced at Seimei and raised his eyebrows, surprised by Kikui's lack of respect.

Seimei gave him an unreadable look then turned to his cousin. "Do try the sake, Kikui. It was a gift from the Chancellor." He moved closer and placed a hand over Kikui's, gently coaxing his fingers around the cup, guiding him as he lifted it.

Kikui lowered his head to drink, slurping the sake.

Hiromasa's eyebrows inched higher.

Seimei took his hand away. With an expression partway between annoyance and concern, he watched his cousin gulp down the sake. "Kikui lacks the refinement of a courtier," he said, his tone slightly defensive. "That is why his parents sent him to me."

"You?" Glad of the diversion, Hiromasa turned his snort of laughter into a cough. "Ah, forgive me, Seimei, but..." He broke off and smiled at Kikui. "Your honourable cousin is renowned throughout the capital, indeed, throughout the whole of Japan – except in Tajima, perhaps..."

"Hiromasa." Now Seimei's voice held a teasing note.

Hiromasa shot him a glance and continued. "He is renowned for his total disregard for hierarchy and courtly manners. He has no knowledge of the genteel arts, is stubbornly resistant to the overtures of dozens of palace ladies, has no gift for flattery, refuses to take part in judging any kind of contest, has no interest in poetry and even less in polite conversation, holds immoderate and forthright opinions, and frequently shocks us all with his..."

"Wit?" suggested Seimei.

"Attitude," said Hiromasa firmly.

Seimei dipped his head to hide his smile. "You see me judged, cousin, by no less than a prince. Disinherited he may be, but Minamoto no Hiromasa is a true arbiter of taste in this city."

"Then why does he spend time with you?" asked Kikui.

Hiromasa gave a tiny startled laugh, this time genuinely shocked by Kikui's rudeness.

Seimei's smile faded. "Why, indeed."

Kikui looked between them, a frown drawing his brows and his lips pursed in incomprehension. He seemed bewildered by their reactions.

His confusion was so honest that Hiromasa deduced the youth's family had never taught him how to behave in company. Pity replaced discomfort, and Hiromasa smiled to put Kikui at his ease. "I seek Seimei out because he's different. Because sometimes I need the company of a man who doesn't agree with every word I say."

"We disagree about almost everything," Seimei told Kikui. "And that's the only thing we both agree upon. Even on the rare occasions when Hiromasa proves to be right, I disagree with him as a matter of principle."

Kikui looked down at his wine cup and was silent.

"You shouldn't tease your young cousin," Hiromasa said, feeling sorry for Kikui again. "He may form the impression that all men of the capital talk this way."

"One can only hope." Ignoring his own drink in front of him, Seimei opened his fan and waved it lazily, the sunlight glinting from the crimson and black design. "I was thinking of engaging a tutor for Kikui. Can you recommend someone?"

Hiromasa spluttered into his sake. "A tutor? Kikui is hardly a child."

"Oh, you noticed." Seimei sounded dry. "Nevertheless, there are things he needs to learn. His provincial education has left him shockingly ignorant. I wouldn't want him to be laughed at in court for being a bumpkin."

"No one would dare laugh at a relative of yours, Seimei."

Kikui looked up. "Why not?"

"In case – in case..." Hiromasa stopped, uncertain how to explain the mix of respect, awe and fear that Seimei seemed to engender in the palace. With a shrug, he said, "Seimei's skills as a yin yang master are very much admired. The Emperor values his advice. No one will laugh at you, Kikui, not even if you wore the wrong shade of indigo and wrote bad poetry."

The young man looked mystified. "There's a wrong shade of indigo?"

Seimei sighed and half-closed the fan. "As I said, his education is incomplete. You must know someone versed in etiquette, Hiromasa. I could teach him myself, but –"

"It would be a disaster," Hiromasa interrupted. "You barely conform to the rules regarding seasonal colours in dress as it is. Let me teach him."

Seimei stared. "You?"

"Oh, yes. I'd like that very much." Kikui seemed pleased with the notion. He knelt forward and fixed Hiromasa with his gaze. A shaft of sunlight caught him, reflecting gold in his shining eyes. They blazed, and Hiromasa drew in his breath, dazzled for a moment by the young man's beauty.

He heard Seimei voice his concern as if from a great distance. "Kikui, I don't think..."

"It will be fun," Kikui said.

Hiromasa couldn't tear his gaze away from those shining golden eyes. "Yes. It will be fun," he echoed, scarcely aware of what he was saying.

Seimei made a sound of annoyance and tapped his fan on Kikui's knee. "Cousin."

Kikui looked at him with an innocent, quizzical expression. "Yes, cousin?"

Hiromasa blinked, shaking off a feeling of mental slowness. He glanced at the wine-jar. Sake didn't usually impair his senses so early in the day. Irritated by this unaccustomed weakness, he deliberately filled his cup again and swallowed its contents.

Conscious of a slight chill between the two cousins, he banged down his cup and turned his attention to Kikui. "We should begin your lessons right now. That shade of violet, though very becoming, is inappropriate for a man of your rank and age."

Kikui stroked a hand over the fine weave of the cloth. His eyes flashed. "Perhaps I should remove the garment. We do not wear so many layers in Tajima. Neither do we wear these ridiculous hats."

"But..." Hiromasa looked at Seimei for help but found none. He turned back to Kikui in time to see the young man take off his tall lacquered hat. "A nobleman would never be seen in public without a hat!"

Kikui gave him a cool smile. "We are not in public." He unfastened the tie twisted around his topknot and shook his hair loose.

Hiromasa stared at the rippling length of russet-black and forgot his lecture on etiquette. He stared again and forgot everything but the texture and shade of Kikui's hair over his shoulders, a lustrous contrast to the violet and blue damask. His hair gleamed, the raking sun catching every tone. The red strands shone amongst the black, the colours mingling when he ran a hand through in artful dishevelment.

"Kikui." Seimei's voice held a warning note.

A dim sense of confusion filled Hiromasa's mind. Seimei was rarely disturbed by anything, yet now he sounded angry. Hiromasa wondered what Kikui had done to cause such a reaction, and said as much out loud.

"Surely you can't be cross because he removed his hat," he added. He tried to look at Seimei, but Kikui's tender blush and chastened expression stole his concentration. "After all, we aren't in public. This is your house, and Kikui is family. And I – I am... um..."

"You are in danger of becoming inebriated." Seimei picked up his fan and rose to his feet. "Cousin, enough."

The movement seemed too quick for Hiromasa to follow. Feeling sluggish, he forced himself to look up in surprise. Seimei never cut short their drinking sessions. Perhaps he thought it necessary while Kikui resided in his house. The youth was probably unused to large quantities of sake. Thinking to speak for Kikui again, he groped for his cup and held it out.

"One can never have enough sake! If your cousin hopes to fit in at court, Seimei, you know he must be able to hold his drink." Hiromasa turned to the young man and beamed. "Pour me a drop more, Kikui."

"With pleasure." Kikui met his gaze boldly. His eyes seemed to glitter green and gold before he bent his head and sat forward to pick up the wine-jug. He concentrated, his lower lip caught between his teeth, as he lifted the jug between both hands and poured.

Hiromasa stared at his mouth, watching Kikui's sharp white teeth dig in to the soft flesh of his lip. He shifted position, suddenly aware of a strange, unwelcome desire needling him. With an effort, he forced his attention away from Kikui's mouth to the splash of sake in the bowl.

"Thank you." Hiromasa took a deep swallow. The sake burned across his tongue, smooth and sharp. He drained the cup and set it aside with a flourish, then smiled at Seimei. "So it's settled. I will teach Kikui how to be a good courtier, and when he's ready, I'll introduce him to the Ministers of the Left and Right."

Seimei looked unconvinced. "I'm not sure this is a good idea."

"Nonsense," protested Hiromasa. "It's a splendid idea. Just watch, Seimei – I'll turn your provincial cousin into the most feted nobleman in the city!"

The evening was far advanced by the time Hiromasa took his leave. Seimei walked with him to the gate, observing in silence the gradual fading of the enchantment Kikui had woven. He would have to speak with his cousin about that. Enchantment was a useful tool, one he'd resorted to himself on numerous occasions, but he disapproved of it. Or rather, he disapproved of it being used against Hiromasa.

When he returned to the house, Seimei found Kikui prowling through the rooms, sniffing in braziers and scrabbling through scrolls. He moved with caution, still unsteady on his feet, and cursed every time he tripped over the hem of his robes.

Seimei chuckled. "And I always thought you were one of the more graceful members of our family. Come, you must be hungry. The shikigami have prepared a meal."

Kikui followed him out onto the veranda. Two female shikigami arranged the fish and vegetable dishes on pedestalled plates before setting out rice bowls and wine cups. Seimei muttered a spell that lit the lamps, then he commanded the blinds to drop all the way to the floor, shutting out the night. He sat opposite his cousin and began to select morsels from the food between them.

"Your first full day in this shape," he remarked. "How do you feel?"

"Impatient." Kikui tried to emulate him but could only bat at the bowl of rice, his hands slicing clumsily through the air.

Seimei watched his attempts to pick up the bowl. "You must remember you have fingers. Use them, otherwise no matter how well mannered you are, no matter how beautiful you look, no one will believe you're human." He paused then added, "Especially not your teacher."

"My teacher!" Kikui abandoned the bowl and picked up a pair of chopsticks. Triumph shone from his face as he managed to balance the sticks between his forefinger and thumb. He laughed, clicking the chopsticks together. "I do not want a teacher."

"You need one." Seimei raised his eyebrows as the chopsticks dropped from Kikui's hand and rolled across the floor. "Don't play with your food, cousin. Eat properly."

"Eat like a human, you mean." Kikui gave a frustrated bark. Ignoring the chopsticks, he pawed at the fish until it flaked into portions. He scooped up the food with his rigid fingers and shovelled it into his mouth. He chewed quickly and swallowed, then lifted his head to meet Seimei's gaze. "Cousin, did you not tell me the best way to learn anything is to take a lover?"

"I have been known to be facetious."

Kikui stared at him as if assessing whether he was joking or serious. Finally he said, "Minamoto no Hiromasa seems suitable."

Seimei's appetite deserted him. He sat back and considered how best to respond. "As a potential lover, Hiromasa is eminently suitable. He has all the necessary requirements of a gentleman of the highest breeding. Imperial blood, neither scholarly nor clever, speaks Chinese well enough, a good dancer, a fair if somewhat unimaginative poet..."

Kikui snorted. "You're too demanding, cousin."

"Blends his own incense," Seimei continued, ignoring the interruption. "Attentive to his lovers, his mother, and the gods – in that order..."

"He's handsome," Kikui said with a purr.

Seimei paused. "Yes. Some might say so."

"Some?" Kikui gave him a look of disbelief.

Seimei ignored that, too. "He plays the flute uncommonly well."

Kikui smiled, slow and feral.

"The flute was given to him by a demon." Seimei picked up his wine cup and pretended to examine its contents. "A demon, cousin. Hiromasa is pleasant to everyone, whether or not they deserve his regard."

"Ah, I see. You're warning me." Kikui clapped his hands together and rocked back on his heels. "You should growl and show your teeth, cousin. I would understand you better."

"I am merely giving you information." Seimei lifted his gaze from the sake and looked at Kikui. "That is why you came to me, was it not?"

"I came to you for many reasons, Seimei."

If there was oblique meaning in his cousin's words, Seimei resolved not to hear it. He took a sip of his drink. The last of the sake from the abbot of Kouya was of excellent quality; he just wished he could relax enough to enjoy it.

"Hiromasa likes everyone and trusts everyone," Seimei said, determined to make matters absolutely clear. "He's a good man – a very good man. The fact that he offered to be your tutor... it means nothing. It certainly doesn't indicate a preference."

Kikui put his head to one side, his long russet-black hair tumbling over his shoulder to brush against the floor. "How strange! You care for Minamoto no Hiromasa, yet I didn't smell your scent on him, nor did I detect his on you." Kikui wrinkled his nose in a gesture more animal than human. "I find that curious."

It was something Seimei found curious, too. It should be easy to draw their friendship into something more intimate – after all, the rest of the court seemed to be engaged in constant, indiscriminate rutting – yet he'd never ventured to ask for more than Hiromasa offered. Perhaps it was pride that kept him alone, or perhaps it was fear of tainting Hiromasa's innocence. A man who spends his days with demons inevitably spends his nights with them, too, and Seimei hesitated to let any darkness extinguish even the smallest gleam of Hiromasa's light.

Not that he would explain any of this to Kikui. Instead, Seimei said, "He calls me his friend."

"Rival I know, mate I know, but friend?" Kikui frowned. "This is a strange thing."

Seimei smiled slightly. "A friend is neither rival nor mate, but can be both rival and mate. A friend is less than these things and yet so much more."

"You speak in riddles." Kikui's eyes glinted, faceted green and gold in the lamplight. He finished eating and wiped his mouth with his hands, grinning at Seimei's look of censure. "I still have so much to learn. You've helped with the basics, cousin, but you cannot teach me everything. Let your friend instruct me."

Seimei bowed his head. It was not his place to grant or deny Kikui anything. His cousin had decided upon this path and must discover for himself the truth of human shape and human emotions. But to involve Hiromasa... No. It was an unnecessary risk. Seimei wished he could believe his decision was based purely on altruism, but it was not.

"There are many people in the city that would be glad to instruct you." He took a slow sip of his sake, then set down the cup and smiled. "Your education should not be limited to the advice of one man. I can give you introductions to scholars and princesses, priests and guardsmen and ladies-in-waiting. Even retired emperors would speak with you if I requested the favour."

"You are very generous to this poor relation." Kikui wriggled across the floor and sprawled on the mat beside him. He pillowed his head on his hands and rested in Seimei's lap. Closing his eyes, he sighed. He seemed smaller, as if retreating tight into himself. "Cousin, my mind is settled. I want Minamoto no Hiromasa. I will take him as my lover and learn from him how to be human."

Seimei placed a hand on Kikui's forehead and stroked his hair. The youth seemed to emanate a feral heat. It warmed his palm, filling him with an awareness of kinship. The feeling grew, swelling inside him until Seimei murmured, "I should be the one to teach you everything."

Kikui lifted his head. "Then teach me, cousin."

They gazed at each other for a long moment. Seimei didn't want to be the first to look away. Kikui ventured closer, his breathing quickening, desire sparking in his green-golden eyes.

Seimei felt the hands in his lap become heavy paws, kneading little taps of aggression against his thigh. He came to his senses and pushed Kikui aside. "No."

The rejection slid from the youth like water from a mandarin duck's feathers. Kikui uncurled from Seimei's lap and stood in a whisper of blue and violet silk. "If you refuse, I will learn from Minamoto no Hiromasa," Kikui said. "Whether you give your blessing or not."

The chill of the winter air stole Hiromasa's breath as he struggled up the steep slopes of Mount Kurama, following Seimei and Kikui. He paused for a moment to lean against a tree and pressed a hand to his chest to stop himself wheezing. His position as Captain of the Left Guards was purely decorative, owing more to his rank within the palace than any physical prowess, but Hiromasa had always prided himself on his fitness and stamina. Or at least he had until this week.

A week of leaving the house at the hour of the dragon, crossing the city in his ox-cart to teach Kikui how to behave at court. A week of Seimei withdrawing from the veranda when the lessons began. A week of Kikui's unearthly beauty proving to be the most powerful distraction Hiromasa had ever known.

It was fortunate that Kikui had such an aptitude for learning. Aware of his limitations, Hiromasa knew he had the patience to teach but lacked the ability to explain the finer details. Often he'd find himself staring open-mouthed at Kikui, his concentration sluggish and the memory of their conversation vanished. During those embarrassing moments, he was grateful when Seimei spoke from the shadowed corner of his study, saying "The Analects, Hiromasa," or "You were talking of Li Bai, I believe." His tone, always acerbic, didn't bother Hiromasa in the slightest. In fact he felt pleased that, for all his apparent indifference, Seimei was paying such close attention.

The bark of the tree scratched against his lacquered hat as he tipped back his head. Hiromasa blew out a sigh and felt his equilibrium restore itself. As if tutoring wasn't enough, Kikui always insisted on finishing the day with a brisk walk. Hiromasa had told him that gentlemen did not walk; they rode in ox-carts. Kikui smiled and said there were some provincial habits he wasn't prepared to change.

Seimei always accompanied them on their walk, though most of the time he seemed preoccupied and uncommunicative. Inspired by the landscape, Hiromasa took the opportunity to instruct Kikui on the most pleasing ways of reciting poetry. To his chagrin, Kikui never seemed to treat poetry with the seriousness it deserved. Nevertheless, he managed to utter one or two couplets each day before he strode off, stretching his legs like a peasant and swinging his arms in a most unrefined manner.

Hiromasa pushed away from the tree and resumed his climb. Damp with fallen leaves and rich with the smell of rotting vegetation, the narrow path meandered towards their destination of Kibune-jinja. A bird croaked high above him. Far distant, Hiromasa fancied he could hear the tumbling waters of the Kibune waterfall. He kicked through the dead leaves and hurried after his companions, his grey damask and green silk robes flapping.

He caught up with them when the path levelled. Hiromasa kept his distance, content for the moment just to observe. It was his secret joy to watch the cousins. Seimei, wearing white over layers of dark and pale blue, had tucked up the back of his hunting costume to prevent the long hem from trailing on the ground. Keeping pace beside him, Kikui wore an elegant cloak of leaf-green patterned with abstract designs in gold thread over winter robes of orange and cream. The combination was frightful, yet on Kikui it seemed like the perfect choice.

Hiromasa let his gaze return to Seimei. Small and neat, he walked with steady ease, expending barely any energy. By contrast, Kikui behaved with exuberance, pointing at things, exclaiming, investigating every stump and shrub, chattering all the while. The two men couldn't have been more different.

As if aware of his gaze, Seimei looked back. Hiromasa grinned at him, then broke into a laugh when Seimei gave him a small, affectionate smile.

Kikui stopped and turned. He glanced between them, apparently puzzled. "What is it? What's funny?"

"Nothing," Hiromasa assured him.

"Everything," Seimei said in contradiction, and chuckled.

A frown darkened Kikui's face. "I don't understand."

Hiromasa drew alongside him and put a hand on his sleeve, trying to include Kikui in the shared moment. "Often, friends have no need for words. With just a glance or a smile, we can communicate far more easily than with a long speech or a well-written letter. One look can reveal our innermost thoughts, but only our closest friends will be able to read it."

Kikui cast an uncertain glance at Seimei. "Is this true?"

His expression serious, Seimei inclined his head. "It's a kind of mind-reading."

Kikui's eyes widened.

"Seimei, don't tease him." Hiromasa touched Kikui's pale hand. Despite the high colour in his cheeks, the youth's skin felt chilled. "Truly, you had no friends in Tajima?"

"No." Kikui shrugged and tucked his hand into his wide sleeves. "My family led a reclusive life. We rarely entertained."

He walked on, his back stiff and his head held high.

"Poor Kikui." Hiromasa watched him go. "How he has suffered! Such a backwards existence. I'm surprised you didn't bring him to the capital before, Seimei. Your house is large enough to accommodate one or two cousins."

Seimei arched an eyebrow. "If only I had one or two cousins."

"What do you mean?"

"I have dozens of cousins, Hiromasa." Seimei indicated they should continue their walk, and they followed Kikui at a much slower pace. "I have almost as many cousins as the Fujiwara have daughters in the palace. Perhaps I have even more than that; I believe I lost count several years ago."

Hiromasa eyed him. "Do they all live in Tajima?"

"Good heavens, no." Seimei seemed genuinely startled by the idea. "Most of them live in Settsu and Ise. There's a few in Suruga, and if I remember rightly, a clutch of them in Tsushima." He gave Hiromasa a gentle smile. "It's hard to keep up, though. My family has a tendency to breed like... vermin."

"And are all your cousins as beautiful as Kikui?"

Seimei gave him an indulgent look. "Some are even more beautiful."

"Then you should definitely invite them to stay with you."

Seimei laughed. "Perhaps. But I fear you would not find all of them to your taste."

"Oh?" Hiromasa grinned. "Then never mind about the rest. I'm content with just one of your cousins. Kikui is very pleasing. Beautiful, agreeable, quick to learn..." He tailed off, noting the subtle change that came over Seimei's expression.

After a tiny pause, Seimei said, "Kikui is not what he seems."

"Really, Seimei, it doesn't matter," Hiromasa hastened to reassure him. "I know I'm not the best teacher in the city, but I think I'm doing a good job. In my opinion, no one will guess he's a provincial."

"They will think he's worse than a peasant if they see him eat or drink."

Hiromasa stopped and stared at him, hurt. "Seimei! That's a horrible thing to say. It's not like you to be so cruel."

Seimei muttered something indistinct and strode ahead.

Confused, Hiromasa hurried after him. "What is it? You don't approve of my friendship with your cousin?"

"Friendship!" The exclamation was loud enough to startle a flock of small brown birds from the trees. Seimei stared at their erratic, panicked flight then looked away.

Hiromasa gazed at him, noting the tension in his friend's body and the faint hint of colour in his face. Seimei rarely raised his voice; rarely showed any kind of emotion save amusement or diffidence. Obviously, something about his cousin bothered him. Hiromasa thought for a moment before the most logical deduction sprang to mind: Seimei was jealous.

He resisted the idea. While it was rational, it didn't seem feasible. Hiromasa had never witnessed even a hint of jealousy from Seimei before. Or had he? His memory gave him snatches of past conversation, of the way Seimei would mock him gently every time he fell in love, of the veiled comments on the fickle nature of Hiromasa's heart. Then there were the allusive remarks on their friendship, Seimei's refusal to consider anything more than a flirtation with the court ladies who sought him out, and the tears he'd shed over Hiromasa's lifeless body.

Hiromasa wondered and doubted, then deduced he must be right. A glow of satisfaction started inside him.

Seimei seemed uncomfortable, clearly regretting his outburst. He glanced at the track ahead as if looking for Kikui, who had vanished from their sight some time ago. "I apologise for my rudeness."

Hiromasa tried to temper his emotions. He had to know if his deduction was right. Gathering his courage, he put a hand on Seimei's arm to draw his attention. "Seimei, is there something you wish to say to me?"

Seimei looked at him, blank. "No."

It wasn't the answer he wanted. Hiromasa glanced around at the forest and moved a little closer, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Are you sure? We're alone. You can speak and I will listen."

Pulling free, Seimei sighed. "I fear you will not wish to hear what I need to say."

"You can tell me anything."

"I should have told you long ago." Seimei wore an expression of guilt and uncertainty. "I'm a fool for allowing it to get this far without speaking my mind."

Hiromasa almost laughed in relief. He touched Seimei's shoulder. "Tell me now."

Still he hesitated. Unused to seeing such reticence from Seimei, Hiromasa tried to help him. "I know what you want to tell me."

Seimei looked up at him, eyes wide. "You do? How...?"

"It's a logical deduction." Hiromasa beamed. "When everything else is taken into consideration, there can only be one outcome."

"You know." Seimei seemed bewildered. He turned away, frowning. "You know, and yet you still seek him out."

"Him?" A heavy sinking feeling turned him cold. Hiromasa swallowed, suddenly realising they'd been talking at cross purposes. "Seimei, wait. What do you mean?"

Seimei faced him. "Hiromasa –"

Kikui reappeared on the path in front of them, out of breath and smiling. Tendrils of russet-black hair had escaped from his hat to frame his flushed face. He jogged closer, apparently oblivious to the mood between them. "Cousin, Lord Hiromasa – why are you dawdling? The shrine is just through those trees. Come quickly, there's a priest waiting to interpret our fortunes!"

Hiromasa cursed his luck. The moment was lost, and as they walked towards the shrine Seimei's expression suggested that their conversation was at an end.

The waters of Kibune-jinja, cold and pure, gave back Seimei's reflection as he leaned over the stream. The yin energy of the shrine gleamed from every rock and branch, coating the tiled roof of the shrine building and shimmering in the air. It even hung like wisps of morning mist upon the shrivelled old priest who emerged to serve their wishes.

Kikui bent close to the water, inhaling its power with a wriggle of contentment. The surface showed his true form. It was so sudden and grotesque that Seimei plunged his hand into the water to break up the reflection. Kikui stared at him, then understanding lit his eyes and he backed away before Hiromasa or the priest could see the truth.

"What are you doing?" The priest made an agitated gesture as he shambled towards them. "Respect Takaokami, the dragon of the mountains! Do not disturb him with ill-mannered splashing, lest he refuse to heed your prayers!"

Seimei straightened up. He murmured an apology to the deity and sent it rippling across the stream, smoothing its surface.

The priest blinked, his long beard wagging as his mouth dropped open, and then he gave Seimei a suspicious look. "You did not come here for an oracle."

"No." Kikui smiled, drawing the old man's attention. "I did."

"And me!" Hiromasa came away from studying the small stone dragons placed between the stream and the shrine. "I like having my fortune told."

The priest stared at him for a moment, obviously unused to the cheerful whims of the aristocracy. "Very well. Allow me to fetch the slips of paper from within the shrine, then you may cast them into the stream. Takaokami will reveal your future and this humble person will interpret meaning from his response."

"And this oracle is accurate?" Hiromasa asked.

The priest sniffed. "Of course. Takaokami does not deceive his supplicants. The people who come here are mainly commoners. They have simple requests. Takaokami provides simple answers that even the simplest person could understand."

Seimei hid a smile as he watched Hiromasa follow after the priest, asking more questions on the ritual of water divination. He could have explained it just as well, if not better, but he didn't interfere. He had things to discuss with Kikui, and needed a moment of privacy for it.

Close to the shrine, the stream had been enlarged and the water channelled in two directions. The diverted water gathered in a large open-ended trough, its current slow and steady, while the natural stream babbled along behind it. Kikui stood looking at the end of the trough where the water rejoined the stream. His left sleeve was damp, and droplets hung crystal on his fingertips. His expression, dreamy and content, suggested to Seimei that his cousin was high on the abundance of yin energy surrounding them.

While it would do Kikui no harm, Seimei felt he should stop it. His own nature ensured that he was susceptible to yin energy, but he rarely indulged the mutable side of himself. Too much yin, too much yang... both led to the worst kinds of instability along with manifestations of malicious spirits and physical sickness.

With this thought in mind, he approached Kikui. "If you really wanted your fortune told, I could have divined for you."

Kikui wiped his hand on his cloak and gave Seimei a smile as chill as the winter frost. "You have a vested interest in me, cousin. I prefer a neutral party."

Seimei raised his eyebrows, acknowledging the implied rebuke. Before he could say anything more, Hiromasa bounded out of the shrine clutching a slip of paper. The old priest shuffled after him, holding a bamboo basket containing other papers. "Please select a slip," the priest intoned, offering out the basket.

Kikui made great play of choosing, hovering his hand over first one paper and then another, then flicking through until he finally picked one from near the bottom of the container.

The priest looked towards Seimei, who shook his head.

Hiromasa seemed disappointed. "Seimei, won't you ask Takaokami for a reading?"

"I already know my future."

His eyes widened, and Hiromasa gave a shocked gasp. "You do?"

Seimei smiled.

Hiromasa waited, clearly curious, but when Seimei refused to elaborate, he laughed and said, "Well, I hope it's happy."

As soon as Hiromasa turned to drop his slip of paper into the slow-moving stream, Seimei felt his smile vanish. Nearby, Kikui watched him with a sharp, assessing expression.

"Oh, look! Characters and symbols!" Hiromasa crouched over the water, his face bright with excitement as he pointed at his slip of paper.

The water had revealed a line of characters, most of them Chinese, though Seimei recognised a few arcane symbols sometimes used by yin yang masters in spell-casting. He interpreted Hiromasa's reading without difficulty, but held his tongue as the old priest fished out the paper and, with much affectation and pomp, told Hiromasa his fortune.

The priest's interpretation was much the same as Seimei's reading. Hiromasa listened in awe and delight as the old man painted a rosy future. A long life filled with excitement and challenge, the acclamation of his peers and the respect of his elders, numerous satisfying affairs of the heart, a clutch of sweet-natured children who would make him proud, and a comfortable old age.

"And," the priest said with a flourish, indicating the final symbol, "one great love that rules you."

Hiromasa heaved a deep sigh. He wore such an expression of hopeful optimism that Seimei couldn't help but smile. "Does that please you, Hiromasa?"

"Yes. Oh, yes." He seized the wet paper from the priest and gazed at it as if it could tell him more. "This is perfect. Takaokami is a mighty deity. I will arrange for twelve bolts of silk to be delivered here as a token of my thanks."

The priest bowed. "Such generosity, lord! Allow me to explain further details to you..."

Hiromasa held up the wet paper, his brow furrowed in concentration as the old man began to expound on the meaning of each symbol.

Seimei stood near Kikui and murmured, "Hiromasa should be allowed to enjoy his happy future."

Kikui gave a soft snort. "So sentimental, cousin? I didn't expect it of you. And yet you give him protective charms to wear."

"And with your enchantment, you compel him to take them off." Seimei faced him, all trace of amusement gone. Every time Hiromasa arrived to give Kikui his lessons, Seimei had tried to shield him from his cousin's power. Kikui had delighted in flouting Seimei's warnings and overturning his protective spells.

Seimei gave a soft sigh. "Kikui, this isn't a game... and we are not rivals."

The look his cousin turned on him was of perfect innocence. "I didn't think we were."

"Kikui..."

"I like Hiromasa," Kikui said, his eyes bright.

Seimei almost snarled. "No, you're using him."

"You use him too." Kikui leaned closer, the warmth of his breath tickling Seimei's neck. "You toy with his affections. Surely you've realised his nature? He's not a man to be content with half-measures. Hiromasa needs to give everything – and get everything in return."

The idea that his cousin could have Hiromasa's measure in only one week infuriated Seimei. Stiffly, he remarked, "I am well aware of this."

"Are you? I wonder." Kikui brushed past him, bending with elegant grace to drop his slip of paper into the stream. "He likes me better, you know."

Disturbed, Seimei glanced towards Hiromasa and saw him looking at Kikui with a soft, wistful expression. Narrowing his eyes, Seimei caught the glimmer of enchantment painted thin through the air, binding Hiromasa to Kikui. It took only a single word to break it, no effort at all, and yet Seimei felt sick and cold.

Hiromasa turned back to the priest, asking about the shrine and the village nearby. Seimei took a deep breath and joined Kikui by the stream. "Cousin, this is –"

"Wait." Kikui held up a hand, his gaze fixed to the slip of paper floating in the stream. Something close to terror flitted across his pale face. "Seimei, look."

Seimei looked. Kikui's paper was blank.

His cousin turned a frightened gaze to him. "What does it mean?"

A dozen answers came to mind, none of them the truth. Seimei hesitated, and in that moment Kikui decided his own fate.

"I know why it's blank." He stared at Seimei as if daring him to contradict his words. "It's because I'm not human."

Seimei bowed his head and remained silent.

"What is it? What does your oracle look like?" Hiromasa hurried over to join them. His eager expression fell into bewilderment as he plucked the wet paper from the stream and held it up. "It's blank! How strange. It must be faulty."

The old priest exclaimed in protest. "Takaokami's oracle is never faulty."

Hiromasa flapped the slip at him. "Then how do you explain this?"

The priest shook his head. "There is no explanation."

Hiromasa made an annoyed sound. He flung the blank slip onto the ground then retrieved the basket of paper from beside the stone dragons. "Try again," Hiromasa urged, holding it out to Kikui. "Take one more slip of paper."

"No." Kikui shied away from the basket, then recovered himself and laughed. "Thank you, but it's not necessary, Lord Hiromasa. It's just a pleasant diversion, after all. No one really believes in fortune-tellers."

Hiromasa looked startled. "I do." He hugged the basket and threw Seimei a pleading glance. "It's real, isn't it, Seimei?"

"It is." Seimei stared at Kikui. "Perhaps Takaokami felt your lack of faith and rewarded you appropriately."

Kikui hissed. He drew himself up to his full height and walked away, his stance tight with anger. At the boundary of the shrine, he turned back and offered Hiromasa a charming smile. "Lord Hiromasa, come with me. I wish to leave this place."

Once again, Seimei saw the web of enchantment reach out. Hiromasa's eyes glazed over and his features relaxed into a look of infatuation. The old priest yelped, clearly aware of some power other than that of Takaokami. He took to his heels with a surprising burst of speed for one so elderly, and hid inside the shrine.

"Kikui!" This time, Seimei broke the enchantment with a snap of his fingers. He waved a hand at Hiromasa, freezing him into a deaf, mute statue as he'd done on several occasions before. Stalking towards his cousin, he snapped, "It's gone too far. You don't need Hiromasa's help any longer. You've learned enough to pass as a human at court."

Kikui pouted. "There is always more to learn."

"Enough, I said." Anger rose in him, strong enough to make the air vibrate between them. Seimei pointed his fingers. "Set him free."

"You want him for yourself, cousin, is that it?" Kikui tilted his head to one side, his gaze once more assessing. "You should have staked your claim from the very first, for then I would never have touched him. But now..." He let his voice tail off, and shrugged.

Seimei took a step closer. "Do not make me angry."

"Are you threatening me?"

"You are of my blood. It's not a threat, just a warning." He stopped, staring his cousin down. "Let Hiromasa go."

Silvery laughter greeted his demand. Kikui's eyes glittered. "It's not like you to be so reticent, Seimei. Don't punish me for your indecision."

"You still have much to learn about human nature."

Kikui raised his eyebrows and gave a mocking smile. "Perhaps it is you who needs to learn, cousin."

The journey back to the capital seemed endless, the atmosphere between the two cousins so cold and dense Hiromasa thought he could cut it with his sword. Trapped in the close confines of his ox-cart for a little over two hours, he thought he would be driven mad by his own poor attempts at wit and poetry. At first Seimei responded to him, and they matched banal remarks until they were clear of the forest. Then Seimei had fallen silent, and both he and Kikui took to staring out of opposite sides of the ox-cart while Hiromasa chattered on between them as if nothing had happened.

That was part of the problem. He still didn't know what – if anything – had happened. If he tried to think things through logically, he couldn't form a single deduction that made sense.

When the ox-cart drew up outside the gates to Seimei's residence, Hiromasa was embarrassed at his sense of relief. The last few miles had been spent in complete silence, and he was looking forward to returning home.

As his servants held open the curtains so Seimei and Kikui could alight, Hiromasa said, "Well, it's been a most... interesting day. I'll see you tomorrow for another lesson, but now I must go home."

Kikui looked up at him and smiled. "Stay."

By the double gates, Seimei hesitated before he nodded agreement. "Yes, Hiromasa. Stay for dinner."

Despite his misgivings, Hiromasa went into the house with them. Seimei took his usual position on the veranda and summoned the shikigami to prepare a meal. Kikui removed his hat and untied his hair with a soft sigh, shaking it out over his shoulders. Later, when the shikigami brought braziers out onto the veranda to drive off the winter chill, Kikui complained that he was too warm, and slipped out of his leaf-green and gold cloak. Dressed only in his orange and cream under-robes, he reclined on one elbow and ignored the frowning glances Seimei directed towards him.

Mitsumushi joined them for the meal, her ready laughter a sweet accompaniment to Kikui's charming smiles. Only Seimei remained aloof, drinking his sake and only picking at his food until at length he rose to his feet and vanished into the darkened quarters of his house without uttering a word.

When it became clear that Seimei did not intend to return to the veranda, Hiromasa drank down the remainder of his sake. "I think it's time for me to leave. I fear I have already outstayed my welcome."

"Not at all." Kikui flicked back the tumbled length of his hair and rolled onto his front, staring boldly at Hiromasa. "Stay a little longer, my lord. I would be glad of your company."

"I should go." Uncomfortable about remaining in Kikui's presence, Hiromasa fussed with his silks as he began to get up.

"Stay." This time, it was a command.

Hiromasa's mouth went dry. He swallowed and sat back down.

Mitsumushi looked between them, bewilderment on her pretty face. "Stay? Go?"

"You can go, insect-girl." Kikui didn't take his gaze from Hiromasa.

Slightly shocked by the callous way Kikui had dismissed her, Hiromasa gave Mitsumushi a warm smile as she stood. "Good night, Mitsumushi," he called after her, leaning sideways to watch as she trailed along the corridor, her form shrinking in a glow of blue light until she became a butterfly.

Hiromasa sat up with a sigh, then rocked back in surprise when he found Kikui had moved nearer to him. The beautiful youth had abandoned his mat and now knelt beside him, so close that his russet-black hair brushed over Hiromasa's hand.

Kikui lowered his eyes and blushed. "This is how it should be. The two of us together, without tiresome interruptions and chaperones." He reached out, hesitant and shy, and touched Hiromasa's chest. "You say I'm a good student. Lord Hiromasa, I believe there is something more you can teach me." He looked up, his eyes brilliant green and afire with intensity.

Hiromasa gulped and shifted backwards, his heart pounding. He'd felt Kikui's touch even through the multiple layers of silk and damask, and while he knew it was wrong to lust after the young man, he couldn't help but wonder how Kikui's bare skin would feel against him. Arousal thrummed in his blood. Dizziness clouded his head as he stared into that deep green gaze. Grasping for some measure of control, he croaked, "Seimei..."

"He knows how I feel about you. He encouraged me to confess." Kikui's eyes gleamed with golden sparks amidst the green, their expression so powerful Hiromasa couldn't look away. "Why else would he leave us together like this? My cousin wants us to become lovers, Lord Hiromasa."

"He – he does?"

"Yes." Kikui smiled, exposing small, even white teeth, sharp and glistening. "It is his dearest wish. His beloved cousin and his dearest friend. Love me, and you will be part of our family forever."

The idea tempted him, but Hiromasa fought through the fog of confusion billowing in his mind. He still had questions and reservations. "Kikui, you're beautiful, the most beautiful man I've ever seen, but –"

Kikui came closer, wriggling like an exuberant puppy onto Hiromasa's lap. "Am I more beautiful than my cousin?"

"Yes," Hiromasa answered honestly, and then he smiled. "But Seimei is different."

"Different." Kikui sat upright. His robes had loosened at the neck, revealing his throat and shoulders. His skin looked so pale, so soft. With his garments in disarray and his hair mussed, Kikui appeared ripe for seduction – except for the suddenly hard look in his eyes. He tried to hide it, giving Hiromasa a soft smile. "Don't you want me?"

"Yes. No. I mean... yes." Hiromasa felt muddled. "This is all very sudden."

Kikui brushed away the complaint, leaning close again. "You say that, yet how many times have you fallen in love with a woman based not on personality but on her poetry, her incense blend, or the way she matches her robes? How many times have you seen a lady at court and followed her into a secluded corner, not even knowing her name?" He flashed Hiromasa a hurt look. "You have spent the whole week with me. You know me, and I know you. How can this feeling between us be wrong?"

Hiromasa felt himself floundering. "I – I am not indifferent to you..."

Kikui hid his face in his hands and bowed his head. Fine tremors racked his slender body. "Oh, I have made a fool of myself! I should have realised that a nobleman like you wouldn't want a provincial like me." He raised his head, his cheeks wet with tears and his eyes huge and luminous. "Forget my words of love. I should not have assumed..."

Moved by pity and emotion, Hiromasa reached out. "Kikui," he whispered, touching his face, wiping away the tracks of his tears.

Kikui caught Hiromasa's hand between his own, his fingers closing around it possessively. His gaze was fever-bright. "Make love to me. I want you inside me."

Hiromasa felt as if he was sinking into warm, soothing water. He heard Kikui's voice echoing around his head. Desire filled him, languorous and tempting. He wanted to say no, yet when he spoke, he said, "Yes."

Kikui slid from his lap and rose to his feet, holding out his hands. "Come with me."

His mind blank to everything but the dark grip of lust, Hiromasa took Kikui's hands and followed him along the corridor and into the north wing of the house.

Lamps flared into life before them, then faded into darkness as they passed. The frozen night air bit through Hiromasa's robes, making him shiver, yet Kikui didn't seem to notice the cold. As Kikui led him around a screen, Hiromasa noticed a strange shadow against the white paper. He blinked, trying to focus. The shadow was cast by himself and Kikui, yet something seemed wrong. He hesitated, pulling against Kikui's hand, but then Hiromasa's vision blurred and the shadow vanished, leaving him with the thought that he'd been mistaken.

Within the room, Kikui let go of Hiromasa's hand and turned to face him. The lamplight brightened as he unfastened his sash and let his robes fall, one by one. Only when he wore the finest, sheerest white under-robe did he falter, his head lowered with demure shyness.

Hiromasa stared. In the light, the robe was almost transparent, hiding nothing. He watched with fascination as Kikui knelt and spread his discarded robes over the sleeping mat. Then he lay upon them, one knee bent so his robe split around it, revealing slim, pale legs.

"Come to me," Kikui said, his mouth inviting, his eyes full of promise.

The lamps dimmed until Hiromasa could barely see. Stumbling forward, he sank to his knees and put out his hands to touch. He'd done this many times with many different lovers. By court standards he was reckoned quite an expert, yet now he felt as callow as the most inexperienced pageboy.

Kikui moved onto his side, his gaze watchful now. His lips curved in a smile as he drew Hiromasa down beside him, his hands busy with the collar-fastening of his cloak.

His head swimming, Hiromasa struggled to make sense of the situation. He tried to think logically, but lust spiked sharp and insistent, desire dragging against him. The only deduction he could make was that he was drunk and dreaming this, because he would never take advantage of anyone under Seimei's care...

The room hazed around him. A rich, exotic incense filled the air, camphor and musk, so pungent he could taste it at the back of his throat. He swallowed it, feeling it glitter down inside him. He'd never been drunk like this before. The sensation was at once both exciting and fearful. Instinctively he moved closer to Kikui.

The lamp flickered above them, casting enough light for Hiromasa to see Kikui's expression and the shadows caressing his body. They nudged closer, pressing against one another, silk unravelling and flowing away.

Hiromasa gathered Kikui to him. "I'm dreaming." His voice emerged scratchy and painful, and he swallowed to soothe his throat.

"Yes," whispered Kikui, his eyes shining. "It's a dream."

Kikui embraced him, clinging tight. Hiromasa felt Kikui's nails dig in to his shoulders as if they were already at the extremity of passion. He winced at the discomfort. They felt sharper than fingernails, pointed like needles and curved like claws.

"Kikui." He sounded drunk, the name slurred out of him. Hiromasa fought to concentrate, focusing on the tiny pin-pricked pain in his shoulders. His vision blurred, the light seeming to float around him. As if from far away, he watched Kikui turn onto his front and lift the sheer under-robe up around his waist.

Hiromasa caught his breath. His pulse beat through him, deafening him to everything else. He stared, his eyes dry and strained, at Kikui's beautiful pale flanks, the curve of his arse, the length of his thighs.

Kikui tossed his hair over his shoulder so it ran loose down his back. Captivated, Hiromasa crawled closer and buried his face in the fall of inky black. The scent of it, warm and animal, reminded him of Seimei, and he clung to the thought, clung to Seimei.

Hiromasa pawed at the body beneath him. His senses overran, emotion rippling from him like water. He seemed to feel everything as he touched pale skin, smooth skin, white flesh, white fur, black hair, russet hair. He felt heat and wetness, the sharp nip of teeth and the laboured gasps of breath against his skin. He felt a struggle and softness and hunger, tight dark hunger that sucked him in until the darkness shone with countless sprinkled stars in constellations he didn't recognise.

"Seimei," Hiromasa whispered, terrified and triumphant and so in love he thought his heart would burst. "Oh, Seimei, how I've yearned for this..."

The body beneath him moved, lifting its head. The shining black hair was shot through with russet. When Hiromasa saw his lover's face, he knew he lay with Kikui, not Seimei; yet still it was Seimei's name on his lips and in his heart.

Kikui snarled, his eyes flashing green and gold with fury, but he did not pull away. He didn't reject Hiromasa. He took him deeper, higher; plunged them together into the void filled with unknown stars.

And then Hiromasa saw Seimei against the night sky, dressed in his under-robes with his hair loose, and he saw distress in Seimei's eyes before he turned away.

The stars winked out, and the night went black.

Seimei woke, thrown from his dream with such force he found himself tumbled across the floor, his outer robes spilling behind him in a tangle. He knelt, gathering his hair into a topknot while he inhaled the hush of the darkness before dawn. The house slept around him, but somewhere he felt disharmony and imbalance.

He rose to his feet and pulled on a dark blue robe over the white silk of his undergarment. The anxiety that had woken him now returned full force. Seimei listened to it, letting it whisper to him. He followed the sense of unease through his house, casting a sharp glance towards the veranda. The shikigami had tidied away the dishes and cups from the evening meal, but they couldn't wipe away the scent of desire. He could smell it, that faint trace of musked arousal, the bitter notes dark with triumph.

He should not have left Hiromasa with Kikui. Seimei knew he'd made a mistake, but he'd promised not to interfere with his cousin's decisions. His uncle Yoichi, Kikui's father, had requested it the last time they'd met. Seimei remembered the pride that stiffened Yoichi's body and the disappointment in his words.

Promise me you will not help him overmuch, but neither must you stand in his way. My son must learn the difficulties of the path you walk, Seimei. He must learn that every action has a consequence, even if it does not affect him directly. I hope his time in the capital will make him return home content to take his rightful place in the family.

"What if he does not wish to return to Tajima?"

His uncle had stared at him, his green-faceted eyes glittering. Then he must find his own way in the world. I will not receive him in any shape but that in which he was born.

"Being human is not all that bad."

Yoichi shuddered. No offence, nephew, but I see nothing to recommend it.

Seimei had made his promise more than a dozen years ago in a time when his life was simpler, if less interesting. He'd known Kikui would one day turn up at his door, but he hadn't known about Hiromasa, or about his own feelings.

A faint noise from the north wing alerted him. Seimei frowned, striding out into the frost-embraced garden. The thin layer of ice on the path crackled beneath his bare feet. He walked faster, his breath hanging in clouds around him. The air felt heavy. The roses, usually kept alive throughout the winter months by his magic, had withered and died.

He pushed up the blinds and entered the north wing. Seimei felt his cousin's presence surround him. Like the scent left by an animal marking its territory, Kikui's power remained on everything in a tangible display of enchantment. It curled around Seimei, and he drew a hand through the tendrils of magic still visible to his eyes.

It felt like fire and tasted of cinders, fierce and unmistakable. It was yang energy, a glorious abundance of it, and it had been too much for Kikui's fledgling human body to take.

Seimei shoved aside the screen concealing his cousin's sleeping quarters and saw what he most feared – Hiromasa, lying pale and still beneath piled silken robes. Of Kikui himself there was no sign.

With a muttered curse, Seimei hurried across to the sleeping mat. He looked down, examining Hiromasa's face. His first feeling was that of relief. Though feeble and but a white, waxen shadow of his former self, Hiromasa still retained his looks. Seimei had seen too many men drained of their energy, their bodies shrivelled so tight they resembled cicada husks. He didn't think he could bear it if Kikui had done that to Hiromasa.

He crouched and pulled all but one of the robes aside, then ran his hands over Hiromasa's body, sealing the jagged tears in his spirit where his yang energy still slow-bled from him. "Hiromasa." Seimei kept his voice low, not wanting to give full rein to his anger. "Hiromasa, wake up. I need you to wake up."

Nothing.

"Hiromasa!" Seimei let his anger slip. With it came a rush of emotion, too complex and muddled for him to untangle now. He leaned closer, breathing in Hiromasa's scent, feeling the distant warmth of his depleted life force. "Please," Seimei whispered. "Wake up and look at me."

Hiromasa's eyes fluttered open. It took him some time to focus, then longer still for him to think and then form words. "Seimei." Hiromasa lifted a hand and groped for Seimei's sleeve, then his arm. His grip had a surprising strength for a man so weakened. "Your cousin..."

"Kikui is gone."

"But..." Hiromasa's brow wrinkled. Confusion filled his eyes. "He's... What is he?"

"He's not human." Seimei said it in a rush, ashamed that he'd hidden the truth and led his dearest friend into such danger.

"Ah." Hiromasa seemed to think on this for a while before he spoke again. "I should have realised sooner. The day we met – the blinds were drawn. Kikui tried to stay out of the sun. Typical demon behaviour."

Despite his concern, Seimei smiled. "When did you become such an expert on demons?"

Hiromasa closed his eyes for a moment, seemingly exhausted from the effort of talking. "It's a logical deduction."

"I drew the blinds to confuse you," Seimei said. "Half shadow, half bright sunlight – ideal conditions to dazzle your eyes and make you doubt what you saw. I did it to prevent you from recognising Kikui's true form, in case he lost control of the illusion he'd created."

"So he is a demon."

"No. Truly, he is my cousin." Seimei paused. "He's a fox. A fox who wants to be human."

Hiromasa looked up and managed a weak chuckle. "So the rumours about you... they're all true."

"Perhaps not quite all of them." Seimei gently freed his arm from Hiromasa's grasp and resumed his examination. He murmured a sequence of spells, testing the extent of his friend's weakness, and with care he moved Hiromasa to lie on his side.

Seimei's mood darkened at the sight of claw-marks over Hiromasa's shoulders. "Listen to me, Hiromasa. Kikui has stolen most of your life force."

"Will I die again?"

"No." Seimei began to tap his fingers along Hiromasa's pulse points, opening his pathways to enable fresh energy to flow around his body. "But it may take some time before you recover your previous strength."

"How much time?"

Seimei wrinkled his nose. "Without my help... perhaps twenty-five years."

Hiromasa seemed to go a shade paler. "Twenty-five years!" Fear glistened in his eyes. "Why? I liked Kikui. I thought he liked me. Why did he do this?"

Seimei sighed. "Don't you listen to the tales they tell of foxes? We... They are yin animals. They control water and darkness, thrive on these things as part of their nature... but what they need, what they crave, is yang energy. They require it to balance their power and also to maintain their illusions. Kikui took your life force so he could become human."

He paused to let Hiromasa take in his words, then added, "And the simplest and quickest way for a fox to gain yang energy is to drain it from a man through sex."

"Oh." Hiromasa sank into himself and was silent. When he looked up again, his gaze was wounded. "Seimei. There's something I must tell you." He hesitated, guilt and uncertainty twisting his features. "I – I seduced Kikui."

Seimei sighed. "No. He used his fox-enchantment to seduce you."

"He did?" Hiromasa seemed to brighten a little at that. "For my yang energy?"

"Amongst other reasons, yes."

Hiromasa stared at him. "What other reasons?"

"Be still," Seimei scolded, continuing his work. "Don't talk so much."

Silence fell between them for a heartbeat before Hiromasa said, "I suppose you must go after him."

Seimei shot him an annoyed look. "Quiet, I said. And yes, I will find my cousin. I will find him and he will know the full extent of my displeasure at this reprehensible act."

Hiromasa seemed not to hear the anger in Seimei's voice. Closing his eyes, he said, "Tell him I'm sorry."

Startled, Seimei paused. "What?"

"When I bedded him... it wasn't Kikui I wanted."

"Really, Hiromasa. I have no interest in your complicated tangle of desires."

"Seimei, please." Hiromasa lifted his gaze. "I wanted you."

Realisation was slow in coming. Seimei stopped fussing over him and sat back on his heels, feeling his emotions unravel into something simple and straightforward. "Me?"

"Is it really so surprising?" Hiromasa offered him a small smile. It soon faded, replaced by a look of anxious concern. "I hurt Kikui. It's inexcusable, really. He told me it was a dream, but my dream was of you. When I held him, touched him... it was you in my arms. It was your name I called out." Hiromasa blushed and huddled beneath his cloak. "It was very bad manners on my part. If you find him, tell him I'm sorry. And tell him also... I understand why he wanted to be human. I forgive him for stealing my energy."

"Hiromasa." Seimei shook his head in wonder. "You truly are a very good man."

The day passed slowly. Hiromasa slept, waking every so often to find Mitsumushi sitting beside him, a look of concern on her face. Each time he woke, she fed him a warm concoction of Korean ginseng mixed with honey and ginger. By early evening, his throat felt raw from the sharp-tasting drink but he had a little more energy than before.

"Do I have to take this for twenty-five years?" he complained when Mitsumushi presented him with another cup.

She nodded, her smile wan. "Twenty-five years."

Hiromasa struggled upright and accepted the drink. "Such a long time. I'll be fifty by the time I've recovered."

"Ah, but think of the advantages," Seimei said as he entered the room and stepped around the screen to join them. "You'll have the vigour of a twenty-five year old at a time when the majority of your contemporaries can only dream of that kind of passion."

Hiromasa chuckled, making the liquid slosh in the cup. "Is that an advantage? I'd need to acquire concubines as well as mistresses and wives. That would be expensive."

"Expensive!" Mitsumushi echoed, and put a hand to her mouth to hide her giggles.

Seimei smiled. "You could simply take a very demanding lover."

"Oh?" Hiromasa glanced up, his pulse quickening. He returned the smile. "It would have to be a lover who wouldn't mind my advanced age. Perhaps a lover older than me..."

"Perhaps." Seimei refused to be drawn further. He knelt with a weary sigh and stared out at the garden, his good humour draining away to leave him looking sad and pensive.

Hiromasa wanted to continue their conversation, but knew it was not the time. Their brief moment of flirtation was over. Disappointed, he sipped at his drink. The fiery mixture heated his entire body, tingling in his feet and bringing a flush to his cheeks. He touched his fingers to his face, feeling the warmth of his skin.

Seimei gave him a quick, impersonal glance. "You're responding well. I've asked the shikigami to prepare a meal rich in yang foods. It will aid your recovery."

"A diet," Hiromasa grumbled. "Do I have to eat yang foods for twenty-five years, too?"

"Maybe not." Seimei smoothed the white damask of his hunting costume across his knees. "There are quicker ways of restoring your energy levels."

Hiromasa drained the cup and set it down with a grimace at the cloying sweetness of the honey. "I want to try those. Tell me what I have to do."

"Be patient."

"Patient!" Hiromasa resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He wondered how else he could restore his energy. An idea, half-formed, raised one possibility. He was about to voice his thought out loud when the whisper of silk across the wooden floorboards announced the arrival of the shikigami.

They glided around him, taking his cup and pouring a fresh infusion. They set out steaming, thick-scented dishes of food: beef cooked with onions and garlic, sweet peppers turned in ginger syrup, a heap of red beans mixed with rice, and a bowl of soft-scrambled egg floating in a spiced soup. Hiromasa looked at the meal with satisfaction. Perhaps a diet of yang foods wouldn't be so bad after all.

Mitsumushi piled a selection of everything into Hiromasa's rice bowl. Smiling, she told him to eat, and then she left the room with the shikigami.

Seimei abandoned his study of the darkening garden and came nearer. He took a strip of beef between his fingers. "It's sinful to eat the flesh of four-legged animals, but the gods will forgive us. This is necessary, Hiromasa."

"Mm. If you say so." Hiromasa picked up his chopsticks, more interested in the food than in any sins that might accrue from eating it. As he lifted a slice of pepper, the vegetable dropped back into the bowl. Annoyed, he tried again. His fingers felt stiff and awkward, his coordination almost non-existent. "I'm as clumsy as Kikui," he remarked without thinking, then he stopped, wincing inwardly. He glanced at Seimei. "That first day, when he couldn't lift his cup..."

"Hands and fingers are very different to paws."

Hiromasa gave up on the chopsticks and scooped a small mound of rice with his fingertips. "I should've guessed he wasn't just a provincial."

"And I should have told you what he was." Seimei curled up and touched no more of their meal. "Forgive me."

"He's your cousin. You were protecting him." The food was exquisite. Hiromasa couldn't remember a time when he'd been better fed. Ignoring propriety, he stuffed as much of the beef into his mouth as he could and chewed furiously. Swallowing, he said, "There's nothing to forgive, Seimei. I would have done the same."

"You are too good."

Hiromasa reached for the soup. "Why do you always make it sound like a bad thing?"

Seimei smiled slightly but did not reply.

Evening flowed into night. The blinds lowered and the lamps lit around them. The brazier smouldered into life, sending a curl of soothing, sweet-scented fragrance to twist upwards into the roof beams.

Finally, Hiromasa licked his fingers clean. The meal had restored his spirits if not his strength, and he leaned back on the sleeping mat with a happy sigh. His mood was so light he'd almost forgotten what had happened, but Seimei's brooding silence reminded him of his physical weakness. Hiromasa shivered and drew the heap of discarded robes over his shoulders. He noticed they were his clothes, not Kikui's. The sight prompted him to ask, "Today... did you find him?"

"Yes and no." Seimei didn't look in his direction, but studied the flicker of lamplight across the paper screen beside them. "Kikui wears his new humanity like a cloak. I can't track him. Over and over, he let me close then led me astray. I would need dogs to hunt him, yet I am loath to take such a step. My uncle would grieve too much."

Hiromasa thought of fierce dark hounds and imagined the slash and tear of their teeth. Pushing aside the unpleasant image, he said, "Do you like dogs?"

Seimei seemed to consider the question. "If they're young and foolish, I can tolerate them occasionally."

"But they would frighten Kikui."

"They would terrify him."

Silence deepened between them. Hiromasa fidgeted, adjusting the robes over his body. "You got close to him today. Did you tell him what I said?"

"I did." Seimei exhaled, his shoulders slumping a little.

"And..."

"Nothing." He stood, turning his back on Hiromasa and putting a hand on the screen. He traced invisible patterns over the paper, his movements slow and thoughtful. "Kikui may have human form, but his heart, his mind... he is still an animal. He knows nothing of forgiveness and understanding. He is not governed by friendship or love. He knows only that he must survive, no matter what the cost."

Hiromasa shivered at his bleak tone. "What will you do?"

"What I must." Seimei faced him, determination almost masking the glimmer of anxiety in his eyes. "Hiromasa... I'm afraid he may return and drain the rest of your life force."

The food turned in his stomach. "Can you stop him?"

"I can try." Seimei came and knelt beside him. He held Hiromasa's gaze. "Kikui may be impetuous, but he's not a fool. He knows the nature of the wards protecting this house. In terms of magic, he's my equal. The only advantage I have is also my greatest weakness."

Hiromasa shook his head. "No riddles, Seimei. What do you mean?"

"I will protect you." Seimei leaned closer, ostensibly to tuck one of the robes more securely around Hiromasa's shoulders. "I will keep you safe. I promise."

The notion of dying again did not appeal. Hiromasa had no intention of letting Kikui anywhere near him, but knew from his jumbled blur of memories that fox-enchantment was a powerful, seductive force. He remembered the taste of Kikui's pale skin and the compulsion he'd felt to bury himself in that slender body. The idea of lying with the beautiful youth now revolted him, and Hiromasa wrinkled his nose. The memory jolted loose another thought, a deduction of sorts that he'd had earlier in the evening. This time he followed it to its logical conclusion.

"Seimei." He grasped his friend's sleeve. He hesitated, clenching his fingers in the white damask as he debated the wisdom of sharing his thought, and then he blurted, "If Kikui took my yang energy through sex, could you restore it the same way? Without doing harm to yourself?"

The expression on Seimei's face almost made him laugh. Hiromasa didn't think he'd ever seen his friend look so discomfited.

The look lasted only for a heartbeat before Seimei hid his emotions behind his habitual blankness. "It would take some time, but it could be done." He sat back, trying to pull his sleeve from Hiromasa's hand. "To return you to full health, we would need to..."

"Be intimate," Hiromasa supplied, tightening his grip on Seimei's sleeve.

Seimei coughed. "Yes. And often. Many times."

"How many times?"

"Ah." Seimei's gaze skittered away. He seemed very interested in the flame of the nearest lamp. "I'm not sure. I haven't had to do this before. There's a book – I can consult it..."

Hiromasa slid his fingers over the sleeve until he touched Seimei's hand. "Why don't we just try it?" He tried not to look too eager. "Would that be so terrible?"

Seimei glanced down at their joined hands as if puzzled by how it had happened. He frowned slightly, his uncertainty obvious. Hiromasa tamped down a sigh of frustration. Only Seimei would be concerned about taking advantage of a vulnerable man. Sometimes, despite his claims to the opposite, he could be too noble.

Determined to help him past the moment of altruism, Hiromasa adopted a thoughtful look. "If it helps, you can think of it as an act of mercy," he said as if inspired. "It would just be to save my life, of course."

Humour shone in Seimei's eyes. "Of course."

"Only if you think my life is worth saving," Hiromasa added. "I mean, Lady Aone already sacrificed herself to bring me back from the dead, and –"

Seimei put a finger over his lips to silence him. "Really, Hiromasa, you talk such delightful nonsense sometimes."

Hiromasa grabbed for him again and pulled Seimei down into his arms.

When he woke, Hiromasa was aware of a change both within him and around him. He lay still beneath the cocoon of heavy robes and listened. The world seemed quiet, the daylight both muted and bright. He turned onto his side and slid an arm around Seimei's waist before snuggling closer. With a sigh, he nuzzled into the warmth of Seimei's unbound hair until he could kiss the nape of his neck.

Seimei stirred, surfacing from sleep with a murmur.

Hiromasa grinned. He felt much better already. A little tired, perhaps, but that was to be expected after making love for half the night. The first time had been to restore his yang energy. The second time had been just to make sure the first time had worked. And the third time, when he'd flipped Seimei onto his front and taken possession – well, it had simply been an effective method for him to prove that he was on the way to recovery.

As if he knew what he was thinking, Seimei said, "Don't be too pleased with yourself, Hiromasa. Regaining your full strength will be a slow process requiring further intimacies."

"How long will it take?"

Seimei opened his eyes and looked at him. "Months. Maybe even years."

"Twenty-five years?" Hiromasa asked hopefully.

"If you insist on giving back yang energy when you should be the one receiving it... yes, it could take that amount of time. You are very stubborn, you know."

Hiromasa chuckled. "And now? Should I write you a morning-after letter?"

Seimei yawned and stretched out beside him. When he relaxed, he brushed the hair from his face and smiled. "You may, if you choose. I believe you know where I keep paper and ink."

"Does that mean you'll write me a morning-after letter, too?"

"Don't push your luck."

Hiromasa laughed and watched as Seimei got out of bed and pulled on the pale blue robe of padded silk over his crumpled white under-robe. Hiromasa rolled onto his front and lifted himself up onto his elbows, admiring Seimei's quick economy of movement as he wandered around the room raising the blinds by hand rather than by murmured spell.

Seimei came to rest beside the screen and looked outside. "It snowed last night," he said, gathering the length of his hair and starting to twist it up into a topknot. "The garden looks lovely. It's –"

He stopped, letting go of the ends of his hair. The twist unravelled, spilling over his shoulder as he stared out at the garden, his face pale and his body tense.

Hiromasa frowned. "Seimei?" He knelt up, unwilling to leave the warmth of their bed just yet but curious as to what had caught Seimei's attention.

Seimei left the room without a word and hurried outside.

Worried, Hiromasa tugged their scattered robes around his shoulders and rose from the sleeping mat. He clutched his black court cloak in one hand, thinking to wrap it around his friend, but by the time he reached the veranda, Seimei was kneeling barefoot in the garden. He leaned over something half covered by the snow, his hands gentle as he examined it.

Hiromasa saw a splash of colour, green with a glint of gold. Fabric, he thought, and shivered as the cold morning air brushed past him. "Seimei, what is it?"

Seimei looked up, his expression sad and resigned. "It's Kikui."

"Kikui..." Fear grasped him. Hiromasa took a step back, ready to throw himself beneath the sleeping mat and hide. Then he realised he was in no danger – he couldn't be, not when Seimei lifted the fabric from the snow to show him what it was.

Damask, torn and ragged, leaf-green with gold embroidery; orange and cream robes mauled and clawed. With a shock, he recognised them as Kikui's clothes.

Hiromasa stumbled to the edge of the veranda, staring at the ruined garments. His heart stopped, squeezed tight, as Seimei gently fingered away snow and fresh green leaves from another object before he lifted it in his cupped hands.

A skull. A human skull.

Hiromasa sank to his knees, drawing the robes closer about him. He looked around the garden, searching for a body, but saw nothing except irregular tracks leading to and from the place where Seimei knelt. Summoning his voice, Hiromasa asked, "What happened? Where's Kikui?"

Seimei drew a hand over the skull's eye sockets. "He's gone."

The words meant nothing. Hiromasa couldn't look away from the skull. "That. The – the skull. Whose is it?"

"I will ask." His expression rapt, Seimei half-closed his eyes and traced his fingers over the cranium. "A man from Tajima. The late owner of the estate where Kikui was born."

"Why would he do such a horrible thing!"

Seimei sighed and placed the skull on top of the frost-bitten garments. "Kikui needed a human skull to build the illusion of his human shape. A skull, some leaves – " he touched the scattering of evergreen camphor leaves on the snow, "the magic of the moon... all this to create the body of Nakahara no Kikui."

He looked up. "And to maintain it, he needed yang energy. Yours. But all his planning, the effort of his illusion and his theft... it was all for nothing."

A shudder racked Hiromasa despite the many layers of clothes he wore around his shoulders. Disturbing thoughts ran through his mind. If it had all been an illusion, surely that meant he'd...

Hiromasa couldn't bring himself to finish the thought. "But you saw through his illusions." His voice quavered. "Seimei – when we sat talking, did you see him as a fox?"

Seimei gave him a look of understanding. "No. I saw him as a man, as you did. The illusion was a powerful one. One of the best I've ever seen."

It wasn't enough to comfort him. Hiromasa felt his throat tighten and his eyes sting. "But Seimei, I bedded him."

"And he was human then, wasn't he? The illusion had become real. It was perfect." Seimei smiled, tired and wan. "Rest assured, Hiromasa. You made love to a man, not an animal."

"Then he was both animal and human," Hiromasa said, trying to make sense of it, trying to resolve his own feelings towards Kikui's actions.

"He wanted so much to be like you, yet in the end he couldn't bear his humanity." Seimei gathered the cold, snow-dusted silks across his lap and stroked them. "He told me he didn't understand friendship. He didn't understand jealousy or forgiveness, either. Most of all, he didn't understand love. And if he saw us together last night..." He paused, lifting his head to meet Hiromasa's gaze. "Human emotions make demons and slaves of us all."

Hiromasa was silent, absorbing this. At length he looked again at the garden, and realised that the tracks he'd seen were two different sets. Leading to the clothes and the skull were a man's footprints; leading away were the paw-prints of an animal... a fox.

He swallowed. "Where did he go?"

"Home, perhaps."

"Will he be all right?"

Seimei stood, the garments and the skull in his hands. He smiled. "You still care, even after what he did to you."

"Of course. I am human, and he... he is an animal cast out into the snow." Hiromasa gazed at him, seeing the anxiety Seimei tried to hide. "You care, too."

"He is my cousin."

"Does kinship matter amongst animals?" He saw Seimei's stillness at that, and continued, "You are human, too, Seimei."

"Yes. I am still human." Seimei tilted his head. His breath clouded the air around him. His bare feet were blue with cold, the hems of his robes dark with climbing damp, yet he looked elegant, otherworldly.

Hiromasa had to ask. "Do you wish you could be a fox?"

Seimei smiled. "Why would I wish for such a thing? Foxes always long to be human. Humans always long for whatever it is they think they want. Both creatures allow illusion to rule them. I am content to be a half-fox."

After a moment's thought, Hiromasa said, "So... do you long for anything?"

Seimei gave him a look. "Not anymore."

"What..." Hiromasa stared at him as he climbed the steps onto the veranda and walked into the house, trailing delicate sparkles of snow in his wake. Following him, Hiromasa demanded, "Seimei! What do you mean?"

"Oh," Seimei said with a secretive smile, "I'm sure you'll deduce it eventually."