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What was he doing?
As Kwan entered his room, that became a repeated thought. He was fond of her, enough to make allowances, but he knew he took his teasing too far today. She looked like a frightened doe after he kissed her. Did she think less of him now? She’d closed her eyes, accepted the kiss—embraced it. Though he reminded himself that she was not in a position to speak too freely; did she feel obligated to the kiss?
He could have stopped at playing with her lips. He didn’t need to go further. Some whisper in his mind coaxing him to do it, like a lover. And that he could jest after, antagonize a playful response. The concept fled when he’d opened his eyes.
His hand went to his mouth, nails and knuckles pressed on his lips. The taste was...
He shoved away the thought, irritated by it.
Sighing, his mind churned up the memory over and over. It seemed innocent at the start. A taunt between friends. Kwan chastised himself for it. She’d confessed the year prior of never having been kissed before. Of course he took it too far. He should’ve ignored the wish for love’s kiss. Any gift might’ve sufficed. A cake. A shawl. Some bit of jewelry. No... That was the usual list for a typical lady of the courts. Was there nothing else he could’ve done?
Every conversation ran through his mind, looking for some clue, some way to make it up. He’d gone too far with his teasing.
Putting color to a picture, bringing it a little more to life.
Winter. Even if he demanded its immediate delivery, it wouldn’t come until the thaw. Though, it was the best he could come up with. He sat himself at his table, the wave of his fingers bringing everything he needed from his stationery, and started drawing up the request. A simple enough thing. Canvas and paint were a pittance in cost, despite her claims. Which caused him to pause. Was it too lavished a thing? An insult to her perhaps? He recalled her discomfort in Juro’s doting, even without the new context to it; perhaps the notion would be perceived in the same way. The attempt was for comfort, not to put her in a position feeling she needed to oblige him or reciprocate in some way. Was this no different from his more forward associate?
Kwan crumpled up the half complete letter, letting it burn to nothingness in his hand. He needed something better. Something to repair the friendship. The very thought of having lost her good opinion—why did it matter? Except that it did matter to him, with or without his understanding of the reasons.
Surely, centuries could grant him insight on a better solution. War, it seemed, was easier to navigate than unfeigned feelings.
He thought to the things she adored that he presented previously. Though, she’d now become aware they were out of a place of guilt on his behalf. Would she accept another gesture after the source of his shame was at her expense? She was too gentle, and likely would out of a sense of duty.
Staring at a blank paper and waiting inkwell, his mind continued to conjure suggestions only to retract them. He sighed, heavy. A whisper went silently through him, suggesting that he’d erased any further smiles and laughter from her.
Barking interrupted him. Haughty in the moment of his vexation, he stood, marching out. He knew the source, and had his suspicion of why.
Unable to calm himself, he gave harsh words, few as they were, ordering her to take her dog back to the kennels. When her sad expression kept, in lieu of fright, his heart weighed. He could’ve been more eased in his tone and phrasing—he should’ve been. He felt sure now that he’d jeopardized the friendship. She’d plead about the cold of the night. Something he knew to be true, and was the reason why any dogs he kept were grouped in threes to keep warm. Koji was alone.
Syaoran’s foul mood, even without anything said, began to rub off. He’d taken his frustration out on the pup. Though, to go back now would lead to undermining him, perhaps force his hand. It wouldn’t be the first time, and he’d hoped never to need to do so again. He didn’t want rulership through fear. Kwang was right. Compassion was needed, and needed in such a way as to still come off the stronger.
He tore his sleeve, fixing magic to it and carry out his will in the kennels. Blankets, thick and plenty and warm. She smiled again the following morning, a quiet thanks. And his heart lightened with some relief. He didn’t lose her complete good opinion, her friendship.
“About... My question for today.”
The words gave Kwan certainty that their friendship held. “Yes?”
“Have you ever been in love before?”
He couldn’t resist. His light mood encouraging the tease. Her expression changed, and he felt then that he’d overestimated. Again, walking to his room, it weighed on him. He’d overstepped. Him, a lord. Something that made him want to take it all back, to reverse what he’d done. And again, he couldn’t think what that might be which didn’t put her into a state of obligation.
“Lord Kwan!” A scout, gasping for breath, damp from ice and sweat, ran to him. A swift bow, and a grim expression, he gave his report. “The north village. A fox spirit—”
Kwan extended his arm, his sword flying to him. Without a following word from the scout, he made to leave. “Say nothing of it being a fox.” His magic surged, answering his call for speed.
****
He’d charged in heedlessly, hoping swiftness would lend him some element of surprise in spite of the obvious trap. She’d waited him out, testing her lure.
The clash of magic and clamoring of steel rang out over the fires and terrified screams.
Kwan managed to press his assault and push Gumiho away from the village, away from increasing casualties in a feud they knew nothing about. He gave no quarter, not even to prevent injury to himself. When at last he found an opening, however risky, he took it. Feigning a swipe of his blade, he released one hand to grab at her throat. Alarm, fear, consumed her face. She grabbed at his wrist and fingers, claws digging in, and kicked out, every squirm to try and break free.
Kwan held his grip.
“You will return them all, and I will end your existence swiftly. It’s the last mercy I will offer you.”
She chuckled, strained as she was for breath. “All of what?”
He firmed his fingers. “Do not play with me, demon.”
She smiled, cold. “I don’t have them.”
Furious, he took to slamming Gumiho into the ice. “Do not suppose that I will hesitate to make your last moment the worst you’ve ever known.”
She coughed out a laugh. “It’s true. When they died, their souls faded. There’s nothing you can do.” A toothy grin spread across her face. “You failed.”
Another fit of rage, Kwan raised her to slam down again. This couldn’t be the end. For Borsi, for Jiana, for the others unfortunate enough to succumb to her theft of their souls. He refused it!
She used his distress against him, slipping free and clawing at his face. He swiped back, loosing a roar and letting claws of his own show. His rage taking him, she chuckled. A small cue, causing him to pause in an attempt to reel some of himself back in. She moved in, taking her advantage. More and more, she became the fox queen, shedding off the appearance of a sultry woman.
She was baiting him, trying to throw him into a blind fury this close to his home. He realized the game, steadying himself—refusing to be her weapon.
“You don’t have it in you,” taunted Gumiho. A desperate move.
It helped him to settle his rage. She had no more army, no more devotees, and this was her attempt to use him against himself. Lies and goading.
Gathered, he inhaled deep, holding his blade upright and placing his palm against the back of it. Eyes closed, he allowed his other senses to investigate, to test his assumption. No unfamiliar smell of magic, no sound of anything outside themselves. He began his spell, drawing from the mountain. The crackle of lightning building a charge. Gumiho moved in, understanding she’d overplayed her hand and hoping to force his fury.
He opened his eyes, cast his spell.
Darkness.
****
“Welcome back, Lord Kwan.”
He felt still, the familiar voice recalling him to his senses.
“You’re not a monster. You’re my friend.”
His heart gladdened, rallying strength to pull him free. He was tired. Tired enough to truly not remember Gumiho’s fate. Something pressed on him, wrapped around him, something warm. The shadow’s instinct started to take over, fighting against his heart’s knowing.
“Aren’t you?”
Yes. A thousand yeses. There wasn’t a need for outrage anymore. Not with her. Not when it was...
“Hisa...”
“I’m here, Lord Kwan.”
He strengthened his embrace, protecting her from whatever might be just outside themselves, the darkness subdued. Again, he could breathe, free from his own trapping. She brought him out of it. What was it about her? Regardless, he needed to do something, say something, to serve as a thank you.
“Brave as the day you arrived.”
“I knew it would work.”
He was tired. Even so, he extended his sight with a spell, looking to the villages that called Mount Tora their home. “Did you now?”
The wreckage of one would need to wait, if they could, for him to claim a small measure of recovery. Others were caught in Gumiho’s lashing, though to a lesser extent. He would go to them, making a wordless prayer that they could hold out until he had the strength to set things right.
“Your village is safe. I promise.”
Her expression wasn’t what he’d assumed. Nothing noting the dramatic intensity of a courting lady, nor the look of expectancy he’d grown accustomed to. There was the pleasure and the relief of the news, but the joy stayed the same as it had when he was again himself.
He sent her off, making to retreat into his room as he always had on any other return. Feng insisted on her company, quickly dismissed when he remarked how he only required his attendant. Tired, and precise with his words, he didn’t look to see how she reacted.
Waiting. He shed off his clothes, donning a fresh set, free of ice and wetness. Near the end, he’d heard his door close, though looking over his shoulder, he saw no one.
“Hisa,” called Kwan, gentle, tired, as he fixed the last piece to himself.
“I didn’t want to intrude, my lord,” said Hisa, fingers fidgeting.
“You are my attendant in Yua’s absence. Therefore, there is no intrusion.”
She shut the door again, keeping out the biting cold. “It still doesn’t feel right to come in at any time.”
“Would you say that if it were your husband?”
Her cheeks and ears went pink, a tint of it on her neck. “That’s different.”
A new tease came swift to his mind, stayed from his tongue. “You needn’t worry yourself. You are my attendant and my friend. There wasn’t a hesitation to embrace me in front of others only minutes before.”
“I, that—I mean, because I knew that would stop you from being chained up. And you weren’t underdressed and isolated.”
“So, Hisa would hesitate if my feral return was naked?”
“I didn’t say that—but, there’s, you...”
He smiled, taking a seat and opening the teapot. She’d realized the joke, and sighed. Her bent brow expression endeared him. She was not at all the trembling girl that arrived. There was a comfort, a familiarity between them now.
As she poured out the kettle, the contents in a steady flow, Kwan thought again of how he would miss her. Pieces of him debated whether or not to entrust the news of Gumiho. Would it be safer to make her aware, or to shield her from it?
When he decided, guilt spoiled his gut. She was only human, after all. The reminder ushering a bittersweet sadness. An idea came with the feeling. Something to make up for past behavior, and to keep with himself.
He sent her to fetch his stationery. Adding to his delight, she didn’t hoover over him, allowing it to remain secret. His seal on it, and twine expertly wrapped, he’d send for it tomorrow.