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Kwan watched as the Cat Clan prince rode off through the moon gate, showboating from his saddle. Finally. He’d begun to exhaust himself, spending energy to make up for his small household. Had it not been the demand of the crown, he wouldn’t have held court at all. A means to insult. After all, it was Urekkato who presented Gumiho’s head. Not himself.
He was glad to see it end. Now, he needed rest.
“He’s tried to get another rise from me, my lord. I’ve restrained myself from it. I don’t want to put you in another position like before.”
What was the Cat prince up to? Harassment of the staff was a staple of nearly every lord, though this one appeared more pointed.
There was also the irritation of the princess, intruding on his room twice after with more carefully worded commands to get what she wanted. Taken for the sport of spite. She lacked the cunning of lesser ladies; unnecessary when your station allowed an abuse of power, unmediated.
Realizing his longer than intended silence, he answered. “Good girl.” Immediate regret followed. He could have said anything, or nothing, more elegantly. She said not a word about it. However, she was not in a position to speak her mind too freely. There was the question in her brown eyes that he couldn’t bring himself to answer, to admit his mistake. She’d accepted it with more dignity that any lord or lady in court would’ve.
He recalled hearing of her outburst, and the surprise it triggered in himself. Given what he knew, it seemed better handled than if she had a title on her. Unrefined, but honest. Perhaps that gave rise to Urekkato’s fascination.
Tired, he walked his gardens. Alone and at rest. Not for long, however.
Beom found his room is disarray upon returning to it mid-morning, throwing accusations at Kwan’s staff, as he’d done with every slight and mess and accident since court opened.
Kwan broke it apart, dismissing his servant for retreat and ignoring his ill-tempered brother. On he walked, trying to maintain the façade of unbothered power. He couldn’t show that he’d tried to make up for the lacking in his staff to accommodate so many guests, or that previous confrontation drained him further. Tempered disinterest would be his best bluff.
It came to not when Beom drew his sword. Kwan, cautious, waited until there was no doubt his brother meant to use his blade, and brought up his own. He didn’t have the strength to match his brother, not as he was. Quick to think, his best strategy would be giving up ground and letting Beom tire himself out in his aggression.
Deflecting, side stepping, creating unfavorable terrain with things knocked to create obstacles and bide time. If he wanted to outlast Beom, he needed as much distraction as possible. Insult after insult slung, Kwan waited for opportunity to give his brother cause to back off.
Beom came in with more ferocity, pressing Kwan back and feigning one tactic in favor of a riskier one. Stunned, Kwan struggled to maintain his original plan, and parry the barrage of blows from his brother. He set himself to a perilous move, going down and forward to catch his brother’s wrist to stop the strike entirely.
Unable to avoid it, their primal power came forth, answering their fury.
“And then there’s your little human whore.”
Primal power came flooding, indignant at his brother’s uncouth antics. With new energy, Kwan went on the offensive, matching his brother.
“Is that why you gave up Eumeh so easily‽” demanded Beom in a roar. “Does it make you happy to shame our parents?”
Kwan ignored him, abandoning caution in favor of fervent aggression. Blinded by fury, he lost his advantage, sent flying back.
Darkness began to consume his senses once more. An instinct to survive.
Don’t go...
A voice, small and sincere, pleading. Just enough to remind him of the light, though he struggled for it. Through whimpering breaths and the sound of battle, he felt himself succumbing to the primal dark. The whispering of a gentle voice, speaking with compassion continued. If he lost himself...
He’d lose that compassion.
Stubborn, he fought on for control.
Senses returning, he found Hisa clinging to him and Beom’s bloodlust approach. Without a second to spare, he called his sword to him, and held fast to her. A dance of steel like silver lightning. He couldn’t find an opening to set her aside, not without collateral damage due. As blades sang against each other, the safest place for her was also the most dangerous place—made painfully obvious when his brother’s metal graced against his neck, and a stream of red caused her to shriek.
Kwan tightened his grip as Beom’s sword sailed to bite at his arm next. He couldn’t act with total abandon, not if he wanted to keep her safe. He emptied his mind of his rage, allowing reflex to guide his next move until he could think what next to do. The muscle memory brought him down and close, lending him the idea of bashing his elbow into his brother’s face.
Beom stumbled back, clapping a hand over his nose. At last allowing some reprieve to set Hisa safely away. Not a second later, Kwan charged in, determined to end this before another found themselves trapped in the brothers’ brawl.
The dust settled with the very tip of his sword pointed at Beom’s throat. “I will not run my brother through. But he is no longer welcome in my home.”
****
Home, Kwan smiled in seeing Hisa’s joy on Saburo. The stallion, too, looked proud. Such a small thing. Though he wanted to see how many small things brough that expression out. A memory from his childhood, when he was barely a man, intruded on him. When he’d shown a young girl the swing, and her fear of falling from it. The smile afterwards, watching her demand to go higher and higher. Bittersweet in his chest. Most memories now had streaks of scarlet with that girl.
Hisa didn’t hesitate when shown the same trinket. Sheer delight. Quiet moments, when he was free from the ghosts of his past, and they could be themselves. Though, it couldn’t be for long, not at the house. Always, someone would be looking for him with some trivial matter and occasionally one of importance.
What endeared him more was that she wasn’t empty headed. She didn’t accept anything for flattery or feel entitled to it. She searched for some equal exchange, wanting to give. Uncouth, and different from all else. He would miss her.
Saburo too, would be crestfallen, judging by his displeasure at Kwan’s choice of steed to Hisa. The stallion was taken by her rough charm, making several complaints and questions of concern during their ride up the mountain.
A genuine sweetness, as Juro put it several times. And it showed when she surrendered her peach to Feng. He said nothing of knowing her hiding place, quietly observing how freely his human prisoner loved. If she knew, truly knew, Feng’s perspective and sorted opinion... No, she’d have acted like this anyway. With nothing to gain.
A sudden thought halted Kwan’s departure. How long had he gone without games? Gentle games, where cunning didn’t play a factor in the pursuit. He longed for it, now that it dawned on him. The thrill of the wind whipping by, of knowing your surroundings and planning each move knowing it was likely to be countered. A wordless dance of riders, testing each other through laughter and bravery.
His heart picked up when she agreed. Syaoran was a fine opponent, but always too competitive. As he led on, seeing if she’d pick up, excitement followed. He wondered if he’d need to explain it, and relished in finding he didn’t.
A worthy rival, and human! Were she on Saburo, he was sure he might never catch her.
When she fell, the musing turned to alarm.
He did catch her, feeling the assault of the wilderness punishing him for hasty action. He needed magic to save them, sending a little too much in his impatience.
“You’re hurt!”
Anxious to get it over with, the tone of his companion didn’t sink in until after. Concern, lacking greed or apprehension. “An accident. I’ll be alright. I just need some rest.” He could have pushed on, used the reserves of his magic to spirit them home. Though some piece of him stayed the notion, enjoying the strangeness of the moment.
“This is my fault. If I wasn’t trying to show off, I wouldn’t have fell and you wouldn’t have spent so much of your magic.”
A surge of shame coursed through Kwan, a needle in his chest. And he had to correct it in some way, be the source of comfort to her as she’d been to him. Though, nothing stopped her from assuming the role of caretaker. He watched her work away at the task she appointed herself, admiring her make-do attitude, and knowing that she’d feel the full soreness once the shock wore off. She wouldn’t allow herself to be inconvenienced. Opposite to so many women he’d known in his life.
He found himself delighting in how she fretted over him, his heart beating slow with waves of warmth. Teasing, and being teased in turn, he felt comfortable in the absurd circumstance. “Are you going to scold and command me any time I’m slightly unwell now?”
“If it’ll help!”
Kwan reveled in her tone, sobering when levity began to leave her words.
“I just wish you’d tell me why you do things like this.”
He had a hundred excuses ready. All of them suited for various opponents of court and within his family. Hisa was neither. “For the same reason you ran up the mountain that night.”
In slumber, she was a comfort to him. And at her slightest shiver, Kwan gestured his spells to manifest a blanket to cover her entirely, shielding her from the chill of night. She was such a small thing, yet made the biggest effort in whatever she put her mind to. A contradictory human. Unmoving, he sent his energy to loosen her muscles, lest fatigue wake her or cause too much pain in the morning.
The first kunai flew past his ear, sinking deep into the rock. The rest, his magic stopped midflight. Assassin’s needles, darts, the smaller and more difficult to catch, magic or not. His gaze fixed on them, he kept still and burned them to dust.
Gumiho cackled somewhere in the shadow, her scent unmistakable on the breeze. “You always were too fast. In so many aspects.”
He said nothing, eyes sifting through the dark. Saburo and Susa stood, pawing at the ground with ears pinned back. A warning.
“Who do you have there, hiding? Is it the snake, winning you over at last?”
Kwan said nothing.
“I’d bet her soul is sweet too. Just like the rest.”
Again, he remained placid, tempering the racing rage of his beating heart.
“They all had such faith in you—that you would save them!” The glow of violet eyes, and gleaming, white teeth in a grin revealed her. “I used to feel the same. Just like you promised me.”
“Before I knew the truth of you.”
She vanished from one shadow, her voice traveling from the new one she hid in. “You knew. You always knew. You just didn’t care at the time. Not when it meant you could have something all for yourself.”
He caught a glimpse of her before she vanished again.
“I wonder how the new couple would react if I came to their wedding.”
“You’re welcome to try it.”
“You never used to be so cold. But, then again, you used to be whole,” she stepped out of her hiding place, presenting the tiniest shard of something glowing.
He knew what it was, and the flaunting of it caused his blood to boil.
“Come and claim it, if you can.” She’d allowed this. Allowed them all to believe she was dead, waiting it out to see if he’d let his guard down.
She was testing, baiting to see if she could send him into a fury. This close to his home, that would spell the end to the very people he’d sworn to safeguard. He thought carefully, needing some display to bolster his bluff. A deep breath, and he allowed his magic to flow freely from him. The air crackled with electricity.
It was enough to give her cause to worry. “No matter. I’ll sift out the rest soon enough. After I have all of it, I’ll let you watch as I make things even. How many sisters do you have left? Suitors? Lovers?”
He allowed his magic to intensify.
She vanished.