Chapter 62

The lantern light danced off the lacquered wood of the sushi bar as Tamara lifted a slender piece of tuna nigiri to her lips. She swept her dark hair behind one ear and, between bites, asked the table in a clear, curious voice, “What do you think could happen to our wives if we all disappeared for a week?” Her chopsticks hovered over a bed of rice, the wasabi’s sharp green glinting at the rim of her plate.

Etheyl—always pragmatic—leaned back, the sleeves of her kimono brushing the table’s edge. She clicked her chopsticks together and offered a wry smile. “Honestly, they’ll manage just fine without us. My husband will certainly lose his mind juggling the children, but he’s tougher than he looks.” She nibbled on a tamago roll, as though daring anyone to challenge her confidence.

Nez, perched on a high-backed stool, nodded thoughtfully. “Hmm. I don’t see our husbands putting up much of a fight. After all, they’ve been remarkably lenient about our gatherings—from poetry to p