Kagome’s feet were wooden, dragging. She knew what she had to do, loath though she was to do it. But a figure on the veranda made her pause in dim surprise. “Yahiko!” she exclaimed, her heart pounding as she hastened over to him. Ikiryou’s whereabouts were unknown, and the sudden, paranoid fear that he might

Kagome’s head spun as she bolted up from the settee. On wobbling legs, she staggered outside. Her breath steamed before her in the autumn air, adding to the haze that eclipsed her. Half-dazed, she stared through it, frozen. Numb. Gravel from the garden path dug into her bare feet, but she barely felt its stab.

If Kagome thought Marika’s tantrums would be her last trial of the day, she was sorely mistaken. Worn down to the bone, she longed for nothing more than to rest. But seeing the maids clustered, wary and whispering, on the veranda outside her rooms made her stomach sink in dread. Squaring her shoulders, she approached

On the wings of sweeping victory against the Hiromi clan, a week of celebration was held throughout the Tatsumi region. Kagome participated in these festivities only nominally. She had duties to entertain the noblest of the guests, the wealthiest and most prestigious of the vassals—both Tatsumi and Hiromi. This was difficult to do when one

There was one obstacle to conquering the mountain range that, in the time of Koshirou’s great-grandfather, had once belonged to the Tatsumi clan. A range which Kagome saw as Yahiko’s ancestral holdings by rights. It was an obstacle that had thus far prevented the range from being recaptured against the Hiromi clan who held it

Upon her throne, Kagome sat, sweet smoke curling from the stem of her long, slender pipe. Only Ikiryou shared the dais with her. It was unconventional to say the least, to have such a great beast of a dog occupying the space her husband alone might have shared—but this was her castle, and she did

“My dear!” Kagome stumbled back, breaking the light hold upon her arms. The demoness’s outstretched claws returned to her sides. Between them, the silver cup lay spilled and overturned in the grass. Fragments of moonlight glittered upon the brown leaves and blades, melting away before Kagome’s staring eyes. “You saw something,” Sesshoumaru’s mother guessed, the

Warily, Kagome stepped back. “No way am I drinking from that.” The demoness’s eyes glinted, almost reprovingly. “Do you think one such as I would stoop so low as to poison you?” “Maybe,” Kagome said evenly, thinking of her sordid entanglements with Sesshoumaru. “I don’t know what it is about me you’ve heard.” “I don’t