Chapter 18: Chapter 18: The Strike, The Fortress, and The Welcoming Committee

The morning sun was brutally bright, striking the fresh mountain snow and piercing straight through the paper screens of the inn.

I blinked my eyes open, feeling absurdly warm.

At some point during the night, after Akira had sealed the broken balcony wall with a thick temporary sheet of hardened blue ice, we had all collapsed back onto the futon. Now I was buried beneath a mountain of furs, with Rin’s tiny foot jammed into my calf, and a very solid, very warm warlord sleeping soundly on my other side.

Akira lay on his back, one arm draped over his eyes to block the light. His pink hair spread across the pillow in a messy halo.

It was strangely peaceful.

Slide. The wooden closet door scraped open.

"I am staging a protest," a high-pitched, profoundly grumpy voice announced.

Akira groaned without moving his arm. "Tell me you have fur, Yuki."

"I have standards," the voice replied at once.

I pushed myself up on one elbow and rubbed at my eyes.

Standing in the center of the tatami was our ancient, sacred nekomata. He was still in the body of a twelve-year-old boy. He had draped the dry bath towel over his oversized white kimono like a dramatic little cape. His twin white cat ears twitched with annoyance, and his turquoise eyes were fixed on us in a glare.

"You did not transform back," I said, trying very hard not to smile.

"My spiritual vessel is traumatized," Yuki lied with perfect smoothness, crossing his small arms over his chest. "Furthermore, it is freezing in this barbaric wasteland. If I remain in cat form, my paws become cold. In this form, I may wear socks. Therefore, I remain human."

"Spirits do not get cold," Akira muttered, finally moving his arm enough to glare at the boy.

"Well, my human toes do," Yuki sniffed with immense arrogance. "Now, where is my breakfast? My nine-hundred-year-old joints are aching."

Rin peeked out from beneath the blankets, her hair sticking up in every possible direction. She looked at the boy standing in the middle of the room, then looked at me.

"Why is the cat still a boy?" Rin asked, rubbing her nose. "He takes up far more room in the carriage like this."

"I am a sacred deity!" Yuki shrieked, his fluffy white tails puffing up behind him. "I do not take up space, I bless space with my presence! You should feel honored to share a bench with me, you tiny, sticky human!"

"I’m not sticky," Rin said with a frown, grabbing her pillow. "You’re just loud."

Before Yuki could begin another furious speech, she threw the pillow. It struck him square in the face with a soft whump.

Yuki gasped and clutched his chest dramatically. "Assault! Akira, arrest this child at once!"

Akira slowly sat up. The fearsome Demon Prince looked from his giggling nine-year-old sister-in-law to the outraged ancient spirit wrapped in a bath towel. Then he let out a long, heavy sigh that seemed to rise from the bottom of his soul.

"Get dressed," Akira told me, dragging one hand through his messy pink hair. "We are leaving. Before I abandon them both on the mountain."

The final stretch of the journey was a complete circus.

Instead of a quiet, tense carriage ride with one brooding warlord, I found myself trapped in a small wooden box with two bickering children.

"Stop kicking my shin," Yuki hissed, adjusting the sleeves of his oversized white kimono.

"Your legs are too long now," Rin argued, kicking him again just to make the point. "Change back into a cat. You were softer."

"I am presently engaged in an aesthetic strike!" Yuki declared, lifting his nose into the air. "And I demand grilled fish at the next stop, or I will begin informing Lady Kitsune about the time Akira attempted to learn the flute."

Akira, who had been trying to meditate in the corner, opened his amber eyes at once. "You swore an oath of silence regarding the flute incident."

"Oaths are dependent upon my comfort," Yuki said with a wicked little smile.

I pressed my hand over my mouth, my shoulders shaking with silent laughter. When I looked at Akira, he seemed utterly exasperated, but the dark lonely shadows that usually lingered in his eyes were nowhere to be found.

He caught me looking. The annoyance faded from his face, replaced by a soft, private smile reserved only for me.

"We are nearly there," Akira murmured, reaching across the carriage to tap my knee lightly. "The final pass lies ahead."

I leaned over to peer through the small frosted window.

The spectral-wolves hauled us through a massive narrow gorge of jagged black stone. The wind screamed through the pass, driving thick white snow into the air in wild spirals.

Then the gorge opened.

My breath caught in my throat.

At the heart of a vast valley blanketed in snow stood Kurogane Fortress. It was nothing like the elegant palaces of the capital, with their gold leaf and polished beauty. It was sprawling, brutal, and magnificent, a beast built from iron and winter.

The walls rose in dark towers of black stone and iron. Massive red banners bearing the northern pine crest snapped violently in the wind. It looked impenetrable. It looked like the dwelling place of a monster.

But the illusion shattered the moment the carriage crossed the heavy wooden drawbridge and passed through the colossal iron gates.

The fortress was not a dark and miserable prison. It was alive.

The streets thrummed with people bundled in bright wool and heavy furs. Blacksmiths hammered at glowing forges, merchants shouted over stalls of smoked meat and winter roots, and children ran shrieking through the snow-packed lanes in play.

The instant the people spotted the spectral-wolf carriage, the whole city seemed to stop.

Then a great cheer broke out.

"Lord Akira is back!"

"The Lord returns!"

"Open the inner gates! Prepare the hearths!"

I stared through the window in stunned silence. Yes, people bowed, but they were not trembling. They were smiling. They were tossing dried winter-berries into the air in celebration.

"They... they’re happy to see you," I whispered, turning toward him. "In the capital, people throw themselves into the dirt when you pass."

Akira’s expression softened as he looked out at his people.

"The capital fears what I am," Akira said quietly. "The North cares only for what I do. I protect these borders. I keep the ice demons away. To the Emperor, I am the Demon Prince. To them, I am merely their lord."

My chest filled with a sudden fierce pride. This was the man to whom I was bound. Not a tyrant, but a shield.

At last the carriage rolled into the inner courtyard of the keep. It was a vast and imposing stone manor, ringed by elite northern guards in heavy black lamellar armor.

The carriage door opened. Akira stepped out first, then offered his hand to help me down.

I drew a deep breath, smoothed my borrowed, slightly singed robes, and stepped into the freezing northern air. Rin hopped down after me and shivered at once, while Yuki, still in his deeply offended twelve-year-old form, floated out behind her complaining about the draft.

At the top of the stone steps stood a woman I had never seen before.

She was tall, broad-shouldered, and clad in heavy battle armor. Her hair was silver-white and pulled into a severe topknot, and a long jagged scar ran down the left side of her face. She looked like the sort of woman who could snap Uncle Kenji in half with two fingers and still have a free hand for tea.

She marched down the stairs, her boots crunching through the snow. Her sharp steel-gray eyes fixed directly on me.

I swallowed and instinctively took half a step behind Akira. I knew nothing of northern politics. For all I knew, she was a rival warlord come to challenge him.

Akira felt the shift in me. He squeezed my hand once and stepped forward.

"Kitsune," Akira said, his voice carrying cleanly through the wind, "allow me to present the commander of my vanguard. Tomoe."

The terrifying warrior woman stopped three feet from us. She looked at Akira. Then she looked at the grumpy twelve-year-old boy with cat ears sulking behind me. Then her gaze returned to my soot-streaked face.

She studied me for five long and agonizing seconds.

"My Lord," Tomoe finally said. Her voice was unexpectedly warm and thick with a northern accent. "You departed for a diplomatic meeting."

"I did," Akira said.

"And you have returned," Tomoe continued, folding her massive armored arms across her chest, "with an assassination attempt, a banishment order, a traumatized spirit-beast, a human child, and a wife."

Akira did not even blink. "It was a very productive meeting."

Tomoe stared at him for one beat longer. Then a booming laugh burst from her chest.

She strode forward and walked right past Akira, coming straight to me. Then she dropped to one knee in the snow and bowed her head respectfully.

"Welcome to the North, Lady Kitsune," Tomoe said with a smile that transformed her scarred face entirely. "We have been placing bets on how long it would take the Lord to find his fated mate. I won three silver coins today."

"You... you were betting on us?" I asked, my anxiety dissolving into sheer confusion.

"The entire barracks was," Tomoe said with a grin as she rose. Then she leaned closer and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial murmur. "He has been unbearable for the last five years. If he had sighed at one more full moon, I would have thrown him off the battlements myself."

"Tomoe," Akira warned, his voice dropping low, though the tips of his ears were turning pink again.

"Oh, spare me that tone, boy. I taught you how to hold a sword," Tomoe said, waving him aside. Then she looked down at Rin. "And who is this little warrior?"

"I’m Rin," my sister said bravely, clutching my hand. "Are you a giant?"

"I am when necessary, little one," Tomoe laughed. She turned and gestured toward the enormous doors of the keep. "Come inside. The fires are lit, the baths are hot, and the cooks have prepared a feast. You all look half-frozen."

She was not wrong. The rush of the journey was fading, and the northern cold was beginning to work its way into my bones.

Akira moved back to my side and slipped an arm around my waist, drawing me against his warmth.

"Let us go home," he murmured, his breath white in the cold.

As we climbed the stone steps, Yuki stamped his small sandaled feet in the snow.

"Excuse me!" the ancient spirit shouted, folding his arms. "I require a cushion! And warm milk! And I wish it recorded that I am currently feuding with the lord of this house!"

Tomoe stopped and looked back at the grumpy cat-boy. Then she raised one eyebrow at Akira.

"I bumped him during a fight," Akira sighed. "He is refusing to wear his fur."

Tomoe threw back her head and laughed again. "Then he fits perfectly. Come on, you whiny furball. I will get you a fish."

Yuki’s ears shot up at once. "Make it salmon, and I may reconsider cursing your bloodline!"

I leaned my head against Akira’s armored shoulder as we crossed the threshold into the huge warm fire-lit hall of the keep.

It was loud. It was chaotic. And for the first time in all my nineteen years, it felt like home.