The main dining hall of the Kurogane Fortress was nothing like the silent, suffocating dining rooms of the capital nobles.

It was loud, warm, and smelled absolutely incredible.

A massive hearth roared at the end of the hall, casting a bright orange glow over the long, low wooden tables. Dozens of high-ranking guards and fortress staff sat together, laughing and clanking their clay cups of plum wine.

Our table sat slightly elevated at the head of the room, but there were no physical barriers separating Akira from his people.

"I explicitly asked for the belly cut to be seared on a cedar plank," Yuki complained loudly.

The twelve-year-old cat-boy was sitting cross-legged on his silk cushion, glaring down at a massive, perfectly roasted salmon sitting on a porcelain platter.

"It is roasted with wild herbs, you ungrateful furball," Commander Tomoe grunted, taking a massive bite out of a roasted boar leg. "Eat it or I’ll give it to the hounds."

Yuki gasped, clutching his oversized white sleeves. "You wouldn’t dare."

Tomoe just raised a scarred eyebrow and chewed aggressively.

Yuki narrowed his glowing turquoise eyes, grabbed a pair of wooden chopsticks, and delicately picked off a piece of the fish. He popped it into his mouth. He tried very hard to maintain his angry scowl, but a soft, happy purr vibrated in his throat.

Rin, sitting on my left, was watching Tomoe with wide, fascinated eyes.

"How did you get that scar on your face?" Rin asked bluntly, pointing a sticky sweet-bun covered finger at the Commander.

I choked on my tea. "Rin! You can’t just ask people that!"

Tomoe didn’t look offended at all. She actually laughed, setting her boar leg down. "It’s alright, Lady Kitsune. A warrior should wear her scars with pride."

She leaned across the table, lowering her voice to a dramatic whisper for Rin.

"I was hunting in the jagged peaks," Tomoe told my nine-year-old sister. "A massive ice bear ambushed me. It was twice the size of this table. It managed to swipe my cheek before I pinned it down."

Rin gasped. "Did you use a sword?"

"Didn’t have time," Tomoe grinned, showing her teeth. "I bit its ear off."

Rin’s dark purple eyes practically turned into stars. "That is so cool. Can you teach me how to bite a bear?"

"Absolutely not," I intervened immediately, sliding a bowl of steaming vegetable broth in front of Rin. "No biting wild animals. Eat your carrots."

Beside me, Akira let out a low, rumbling chuckle.

I turned to look at him and found that my own bowl was suddenly overflowing. There were thick slices of roasted boar, tender bamboo shoots, and perfectly steamed rice piled dangerously high.

"Akira," I sighed, looking at the mountain of food. "I can’t eat all this."

"You barely touched your lunch," the Warlord replied calmly, using his own chopsticks to place yet another piece of glazed venison directly into my bowl.

"Because I was practicing with the iron fan!" I protested, trying to block his chopsticks with my hand. "My stomach is the size of a fist. I’m used to eating half a bowl of stale rice a day."

Akira’s hand stopped mid-air. The playful amusement in his amber eyes instantly hardened into something dark and dangerously protective.

"You will never eat stale rice again," Akira said, his voice dropping to a low, absolute vow that sent a shiver straight down my spine. "Eat what you can, Kitsune. But you will never go hungry in my home."

The sheer intensity of his gaze made the breath catch in my throat. I completely forgot about the noisy dining hall, the glaring cat-boy, and the scarred commander.

"Okay," I whispered, feeling a hot flush creep up my neck. I picked up my chopsticks. "But you have to eat, too. You still look pale from the shrine fire."

Akira’s dark expression melted perfectly back into a soft, private smile. "As you command, wife."

"Oh, for the love of the gods," Yuki groaned, aggressively stabbing his salmon. "I have lost my appetite. The sheer amount of romantic pining at this table is making me nauseous. I am going to find a dark corner to sleep in."

The ancient spirit stood up, dramatically tossed his white hair over his shoulder, and marched out of the dining hall.

Tomoe snorted into her cup of wine. "I give it three days before I throw him in the moat."

By the time dinner ended, my entire body was aching. The adrenaline from the journey and the intense afternoon of training had completely worn off, leaving my muscles feeling like lead.

Yua, my cheerful attendant, had whisked Rin away to a warm, cozy guest room down the hall, promising to read her a story about snow spirits.

Which left me standing alone in the massive master suite.

"Lady Kitsune," Yua said, returning a moment later with a stack of folded, clean white towels and a fresh cotton yukata. "The Lord requested that the private hot springs be prepared for you. The water is drawn directly from the geothermal vents beneath the fortress. It is incredibly healing for sore muscles."

"That sounds like heaven," I admitted, rubbing my aching right shoulder.

The private baths were connected directly to our bedchamber through a set of sliding cedar doors.

I stepped inside and slid the doors shut behind me. The air was thick with warm, mineral-rich steam. Lanterns carved from dark stone lined the walls, casting a soft, flickering golden light over the water.

The pool itself was massive, built from smooth, dark river stones. Water cascaded gently from a bamboo pipe in the wall, filling the room with a peaceful, rhythmic splashing sound.

I quickly shed my heavy winter layers, shivering as the cool air hit my skin, and carefully stepped down into the pool.

The heat hit me instantly, sinking straight into my aching bones. I let out a long, happy sigh, sinking down until the water was right below my collarbone. I rested my head against a smooth rock at the edge of the pool and closed my eyes.

For the first time since I sneaked out of the Bureau’s basement, the world was completely quiet.

Slide.

The wooden door to the bathhouse opened.

My eyes flew open, and my heart instantly leaped into my throat.

Through the thick, swirling white steam, a tall silhouette stepped into the room.

Akira stood at the edge of the pool. He had completely stripped off his heavy armor and layers of silk. He wore only a simple white towel tied low around his waist.

My brain completely stopped working.

I had seen his chest before, when I had to draw the holy fire out of him in the carriage. But seeing him now, fully awake and standing in the golden lantern light, was entirely different.

His shoulders were impossibly broad, his arms corded with heavy, sculpted muscle from a lifetime of swinging a sword. The dark blue ink of a northern pine tattoo wrapped around his left bicep.

And scattered across his pale skin were the scars. Some were old, faded white lines from blades and claws. But covering his chest, right over his heart, were the angry, twisting pink burns left behind by the Emperor’s divine fire.

He had taken that damage for me.

Akira paused at the edge of the water. His sharp amber eyes locked onto me through the mist. He didn’t step in.

"Is there room for me, Kitsune?" Akira asked. His voice was incredibly quiet, deep, and respectful. "If you wish to bathe alone, I will leave."

"No," I blurted out, much faster than I intended. My face instantly burned as hot as the water. I cleared my throat, sinking a little lower until the water reached my chin. "I mean... it’s your bathhouse. And it’s huge. There’s plenty of room." 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

A soft, relieved exhale escaped his lips.

He stepped into the water on the complete opposite side of the massive stone pool. He waded over to the far wall and sank down, resting his arms along the smooth rocks.

The distance between us was polite. Safe.

But the tension in the room was suddenly so thick I could hardly breathe.

We sat in silence for a long time. The only sound was the bamboo water pipe and the steady, frantic thumping of my own pulse in my ears. I couldn’t stop looking at the burn scars on his chest.

Akira caught me staring.

He looked down at his own chest, tracing the edge of a pink burn mark with his thumb.

"They look worse than they feel," Akira murmured, his voice echoing softly over the water. "Your healing took the pain away completely."

"They’re going to scar," I whispered, feeling a sharp pang of guilt. "Because of me."

"I am a Warlord, Kitsune," Akira smiled faintly, looking up at me through the steam. "I have many scars. This is the only one I am proud to wear."

My chest squeezed painfully. How did he always know exactly what to say to completely unravel me?

"I have scars, too," I confessed before I could stop myself.

Akira went perfectly still. The relaxed slope of his shoulders vanished.

I slowly lifted my hands out of the water. In the golden lantern light, the damage was obvious. The skin on my knuckles was thick and permanently calloused. Faint, jagged white lines crisscrossed over the backs of my hands and forearms, the fading memories of Uncle Kenji’s bamboo practice swords.

"I wasn’t a warrior," I said, my voice shaking slightly. I had never shown anyone my hands on purpose. I usually kept them hidden in my long sleeves. "I didn’t get these fighting ice bears or saving people from fires. I got them because I was too slow to duck."

The water rippled violently.

Akira didn’t stay on his side of the pool. He pushed off the stone wall, the water parting effortlessly around his massive frame as he waded directly across the bath toward me.

Panic and adrenaline spiked in my veins, but I didn’t move away.

He stopped right in front of me. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, completely separate from the hot spring.

Akira didn’t say a word. He slowly reached out through the water.

He gently took my scarred, calloused hands in his massive ones. He didn’t look at them with pity. He didn’t look at them with disgust. He looked at them like they were the most precious, fragile things in the entire world.

He lifted my right hand out of the water. He bowed his head, his wet pink hair falling over his forehead, and pressed his lips directly against the deepest scar on my knuckles.

A violent shiver ripped through my entire body.

"You survived," Akira whispered against my skin, his breath hot and ragged. He looked up, his amber eyes burning with an emotion so fierce and raw it made my eyes sting with sudden tears. "There is no shame in surviving, Kitsune. Your hands kept Rin alive. They are beautiful to me."

"Akira," I breathed, my voice cracking.

He didn’t let go of my hands. He slowly lowered them back under the water, his thumbs gently stroking my knuckles. The water level was up to our chests, hiding the glowing Consort Marks that permanently tied our souls together.

But I didn’t need to see the mark to feel the connection. It was humming between us, a bright, undeniable tether of magic and safety.

"I cannot erase what he did to you," Akira murmured, stepping half an inch closer. The water shifted, pushing our bodies agonizingly close. "But I swear to you, no one will ever raise a hand against you again. You are mine to protect."

I looked up into his eyes. The fear, the anxiety, the years of looking over my shoulder in the dark basement, it all just melted away into the steam.

I pulled one of my hands free from his gentle grip.

My hand trembled slightly as I reached up out of the water. I pressed my palm flat against his bare chest, right over the twisting pink burn scar he had taken for me.

His heart thudded wildly beneath my fingers. He wasn’t as calm as he pretended to be.

"I’m not a ghost anymore," I whispered, echoing the words he had taught me in the dojo. I looked up at him, my heart in my throat. "I don’t want to just dodge."

Akira’s breath hitched. His amber eyes dropped to my lips.

Slowly, giving me every opportunity to pull away, he raised his hand from the water. His wet fingers gently cupped the side of my face, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw.

"Then don’t," the Warlord murmured.

He leaned in, the steam swirling around us, and closed the final few inches between us.