When I stepped out, I raided my drawers. My old clothes were now comically short. I tugged on my oversized hoodie and hacked up some shorts with a pair of scissors until they resembled something wearable. Bandages made do for a bra. Functional, if not stylish.
"I'll need to go shopping again," I muttered. "Maybe Rachel and Amari can take me. Assuming one stops crying and the other stops running."
[Back in the bedroom]
Rachel was still on the couch, reduced to sniffles now. Her eyes darted nervously around the room like she expected monsters to crawl out of the walls.
"Ah, you calmed down. That's good," I said.
Her head jerked toward me, eyes widening. She saw me in my new form and shuddered as if I'd walked in covered in blood. Tears welled fresh.
"Wait, don't cry. I'm Kitsuna — Amari's sister. I won't hurt you," I said quickly, waving my hands like a frantic shopkeeper denying refunds.
"You promise?" She whispered, trembling, those big angel eyes wet and pleading.
I couldn't help a laugh. "Of course. A friend of my sister is a friend of mine."
Her wings twitched uncertainly, but she dabbed her face and nodded. "So... you're Amari's sister. She said she had an adopted sister, but she's never even met you."
"Yeah. I was at the border mansion the last few years. She stayed in the capital."
"You mean the mansion that was destroyed yesterday?" Rachel blinked.
"...Yesterday?" My eyes narrowed. "That incident was hours ago, tops."
"No, it's been longer. Wait-" she tilted her head, "have you seen a talking fox around here?"
"You're looking at her." I smirked, pointing at myself.
Her mouth fell open. "You-"
A sharp whistle cut her off.
Instinct screamed. I pivoted, arm snapping out. My fingers closed around a spear midair, its tip already hissing with my mana as it melted like cheap wax.
The doorway Amari had bolted through now framed a man in armor, black hair slicked back, and brown eyes blazing with fury.
"Get away from my sister," he snarled.
"...You know," I said, rotating the melting spear in my hand before letting it clatter harmlessly to the floor, "it's not polite to throw pointy sticks at strangers."
"Bitch," he spat, drawing his sword. "I said get away from her."
"Brother, wait-she's-" Rachel's voice cracked.
"Don't listen to her! That's a monster!" His blade gleamed as he raised it.
"Really?" I sighed. "That's the card you're going to play? 'Monster equals bad, must stab?' You people need new material."
His jaw tightened. "This is your last warning."
I shrugged and lifted my hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. Step away from your precious sister. Look, a whole meter between us."
He vanished in a blur of speed. To Rachel, it must've looked like he disappeared. To me? He moved like a drunken snail.
He swung. I raised a blade of ice in my left hand, let the steel clang against it, and with my right, I seized his head. My grip tightened, and then-slam.
The ground cracked as I drove his skull into it. He bounced once, dazed, and I kicked him sideways. His body sailed into the wall, plaster exploding around him.
"Ugh!?" His grunt ended in a wheeze as he crumpled.
"Brother!" Rachel screamed, rushing to him. She knelt at his side, frantic, then looked at me. "What... what happened?"
"You didn't see it?" I tilted my head. She shook hers wildly.
"He attacked me. I defended myself. End of story." I turned toward the door, bored now. "Anyway, I'm going to look for my mother."
And just like that, I left them-the crying angel and her broken brother-behind me in a room that smelled faintly of tears, ozone, and scorched spear.
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Chapter 27: Meeting my Grandmother
[Corridor-chasing the scent]
Walking out of the room, I looked right, then left down the long passageway. Polished stone, morning light pouring through tall panes, carpets thick enough to smother a cavalry charge-none of it told me which way Amari had run. I inhaled instead. The air here always carries a swirl of scents-chalk dust from the study, oil from weapon racks, Dean's steel-and-ozone aura bleeding out of the training yard, and a faint trail of citrus soap and ink that was unmistakably my sister.
"She ran to the right?" I murmured. "Well, then-right it is."
I started down the hall, and, because my brain delights in self-sabotage, another thought shoved itself in front of my feet. The oath lock I'd placed on myself-the one that kept me from peeking at my status-felt... gone.
"Hmm. I think I can see my status again," I said to the empty corridor. "I don't feel the pledge anymore." I shrugged. "Meh. Let's try it."
I pictured the familiar blue pane. "Status."
Name: Kitsuna Draig (Shiro Adachi)
Age: 13 (Immortal)
Race: Primordial 1-Tail Demon Fox
Bloodline: Primordial 9-Tail Fox
Gender: Female
Level: 27
Class: Unknown (Wrath)
HP: 1860/1860
MP: 3120/3120
Str: 795
Vit: 930
Def: 600
Int: 1560
End: 870
Agent: 1140
Skills: Dimension Storage, Demon Fire, Demon Lightning, Fox Ice, Analysis, Super Regen, Flash Step, Night Vision, Sword Domain
"Ugh. Wrath!?" I choked on air. "What happened to my status?"
The pane winked out as if it were embarrassed for me. I wasn't sure what to be more concerned about-the single tail or the sin in parentheses. Either way, last night had clearly been a lot, because I'd managed to evolve, devolve, and apparently develop a personality trait so serious it got capitalized.
"I really need to figure out what happened," I muttered, lengthening my stride.
The hallway curved and widened. Banners in Draig crimson hung between armored mannequins. Outside, the wind carried the clang of steel and the distant, cheerful sound of someone screaming on the training field. Homey.
[At the dining-wing turn-an interception]
I rounded the corner toward the dining hall and stopped. Amari stood halfway down the corridor, half-hiding behind a little storm front with legs.
The woman blocking the hall had black hair braided tight and eyes like lacquer. Her presence was all sharp corners, and her appraisal was sharper. I'd only seen her in Stacy's memories, and even then, usually from the far side of a crisis. Trinity. Ex-Head Psychologist of the Federation. Furthermore, apparently, my grandmother. Because why wouldn't the universe file her under "family" for maximum chaos?
"I asked you, who are you?" she said. No wasted words. Nothing was wasted.
"Ah-sorry, Trinity. My name is Kitsuna Draig," I answered, as casual as I could manage. "The adopted daughter of Stacy."
Recognition flickered-and then her hand flicked faster. The chop landed on the crown of my head like a gavel.
"Respect your elders, brat!" she snapped. "And how do you know that name?"
"Ow!" I squatted, rubbing the fast-growing bump. "How did you even hit the top of my head? You're way shorter than me."
She pulled her arm back for another go.
"Wait, wait! Stacy showed me some of her memories," I blurted. "Please don't hit me again."
Trinity's eyes narrowed. "Now, why would she do something like that?"
"Amari," I pivoted, "do you know where your parents are?"
"They're having a spar on the training grounds," Amari said, peeking around Trinity. Her voice was small but steady. "Mother said not to disturb them unless, you know, the house explodes again."
"Noted," I said-and tried to walk past.
Something snagged-and every muscle from my shoulders to my toes flinched. Trinity had my tail. Trinity made a clean grab at the base of my tail. The world drowned in red for a heartbeat.
"Where," I said very calmly, "do you think you're going?"
"Where," she said, entirely too amused, "do you think you're going, young lady?"
"Where," I said, dropping the calm, "do you think you're grabbing, old hag?"
"Ooh. Sensitive, are we? Is the tail... reserved?" Her mouth curved into the kind of smile that had ended dynasties.
I made a dagger of ice on reflex and flicked it. The blade thunked into the paneling beside her hand; she let go before I could pin her palm to the wainscoting.
"Okay, okay," she said, palms up. "Point made. I won't touch the tail. Again."
I exhaled, counted to three, and pretended my ears weren't hot. "Thank you. Sorry about the dagger. That's-uh-a soft spot for my race."
"Mm. So it is a partner thing." She didn't blink. "Come on, then. Breakfast. You can brief your grandmother while we eat. Stacy and Dean won't finish trying to break each other for a while."
"Food," I said, already walking beside her like a docile carriage horse. Food is the best bribe. Don't at me.
Behind us, Amari whispered, "Was she just bought with breakfast?"
[Dining Hall-the long table and longer shadows]
The dining hall had vaulted ceilings ribbed with dark beams and a skylight sluicing pale light over a table long enough to seat a small regiment. High on the walls, portraits watched with oil-painted disapproval as a dozen maids worked in a quiet rhythm. The room smelled like fresh bread, braised meat, and coffee-a smell so comforting it should be illegal.
"Kitsune?" came a familiar voice. Lily-hair in a neat bun, eyes already smiling-stood by the service door, a ledger tucked under her arm.
"Morning, Lily," I said. "Can you ask the kitchen to prepare extra food today? I'm starving."
"The poor chefs," she sighed theatrically. "I'll warn them. Milady? Young Miss? Your orders?"
"Something light," Trinity said, which was code for "everything with coffee." Amari rattled off a list that sounded like "pancakes, fruit, and something I can feed the fox," then blushed. I pretended not to notice.
We took our seats-Trinity at the head, Amari on her right, and me across from Amari with a wonderful view of the door. I always like a clean line to the exits. Or entrances. Depends on the mood.
"First question," Amari said before the cutlery finished settling. "How did you even get here? Mother said you were still in the woods last night and would join us later. We didn't see you get off the jet."
"Jet?" I said. "Whatever that is, I didn't take it. I was the talking fox Mother gave you."
"Mother gave you?" Amari echoed-and then the realization hit her in the face. "Mother gave me... you."
"Uh-huh," I said sweetly. "I'm going to rip her a new one when I see her."
"Did you do anything to Rachel?" Amari asked carefully. Earnest girl. Loyal. Terrible at masking worry.
"No," I said. "She cried. I left." I lifted a brow at Amari's relief. "Geez, I'm not a monster. I don't attack people for free."
Trinity tapped the table. "So. That's why Stacy told Daren to hover." Her eyes sharpened, measuring me like a tailor measures sin. "What are you, exactly, that you can turn into a fox? You might not be a monster, but you aren't human either."
"That's true," I said. "I'm not remotely human anymore." I held her gaze. "As for specifics-that's a secret. For now."
"A secret," she repeated, frowning. "Why not tell your family?"
"Family," I said, and let the word sit there. "We might be family, but this is the first time we've met in person. Stacy's memories belong to Stacy. Not me."
A beat passed. Then Trinity's mouth twitched. "Good. You'll fit here."
Lily and a small squad of maids swept in with trays, steamers, and orders. Bowls, baskets, platters, and silver domes. A tester approached with a tiny spoon and neat little vials, moving dish to dish with a professional blankness.
"Huh," Trinity said briskly. "Why isn't her food being tested?"
"Because she's immune to poison," Lily said cheerfully. "Also, if we tried to stop her, she'd eat the cutlery."
"I would not," I said around a mouthful of something savory.
"You bite swords," Lily whispered, deadpan, then bowed out. I pretended I hadn't heard.
We ate. I inhaled. Dark bread with salted butter. Eggs with herbs I didn't know the names for in this language. Something braised that dissolved on the tongue and probably cost as much mana as a medium-sized curse to make right. The coffee was dark enough to count as a war crime. I loved it.
"Why are we testing food for poison?" Amari asked once she had syrup on her nose.
"There were Black Ops soldiers who committed treason," Trinity said. "They were caught last night. There'll be a clean-up in a few days."
"Wow," Amari said, tone torn between awe and annoyance. "Again?"
"That's surprising," I said, reaching for another roll. "What sort of punishment do they get?"
"Execution," Trinity replied. "Public."
I chewed, considered, and swallowed. "Boring."
"Excuse me?" Trinity's brows ticked up.
"Showing your soldiers the price of betrayal is good policy," I said. "But if the goal is deterrence, spectacle works better. Make one lesson everyone feels in their bones. Not every time. Just for major events. Like an attack on the mansion." I waved a bread crust at the vaulted ceiling. "Last night qualifies."
"Oho," Trinity murmured. "You have an idea."
"I wouldn't have said anything if I didn't." I grinned. "We can talk after coffee."
She studied me, then nodded once. "We will." She set her cup down with surgical precision. "Now. That dagger you threw at me in the hall-what was it made of?"
"My ice magic," I said.
[Dining Hall-the explanation, the edge]
Trinity laced her fingers. "Fox Ice," she said, like she was tasting the name. "Yours feels... wrong. In a good way."
"Compliment accepted," I said. "It's sticky. It wants to cling to energy. Mana. Heat. Nerves." I lifted a hand and sketched a little ribbon of frost in the air. It hung there, a delicate twist of translucence, refusing to melt in the sunbeam.
Amari reached toward it, hesitated, and then reached again. "Can I-?"
"Touch," I said, softening it before she pressed her fingertip into the icy thread. The frost curled around her like a friendly snake, left a cool kiss, and drifted apart into glitter.
"Pretty," she said, and brightened. Her relief was a small sunrise.
Trinity's eyes didn't leave the air where the ice had been. "And the fire? Lightning?"
"It's local," I said, tapping my cursed forearm and then the other one. Dark tracery pulsed-charcoal lines shot through with embers and the occasional thread-crackle of blue. "But the ice is my problem-solver."
"I see." She leaned back. "By the way, speaking of problems-in two days, we're hosting the traitors' tribunal in the north courtyard. The usual thing: charges, evidence, verdict. I'll leave the 'not boring' to you. Draw me an outline by sundown."
