Extraits

CHAPTER 1

Beyond the window, snow swirled toward the ground in a shimmering curtain. A hush lay over the land, all activity quieted by the snowfall, and within the room, the warmth of the coal-heated brazier filled the space with a soft, serene glow.

Emi wished she could enjoy the calm evening, but anxiety tightened her nerves. From the assortment of supplies on the table, she selected a roll of white fabric.

Yumei sat on the floor in front of her. His bare torso told the tale of the battle he had fought. The gouges from dragon claws and the dark bruises from crushing impacts turned her stomach. The same injuries would have left a human immobile in a hospital bed, but yokai were far tougher. And Yumei, a raven yokai known to most as the Tengu and to a select few as the Prince of Shadows, was tougher than most.

She pressed one end of the bandage against his shoulder. She’d dropped the roll twice and had to restart when the bandages sagged, too loose to hold. He’d waited patiently without comment—a surprising deviation from his normally irascible temperament.

Now, with far more confidence than her first attempt, she wrapped the reddish-purple bruises and four deep slices down his ribs and tied off the bandage. Touching him at all was rather strange. Unlike Shiro, who frequently and deliberately invaded her personal space, Yumei rarely allowed any kind of physical contact. Despite that, once her initial embarrassment had passed, she found a simple familiarity in their interaction. She wasn’t sure if that was because she was more comfortable around him, or because he was more relaxed around her.

When she picked up another roll, he extended his arm and she began to bind it from shoulder to elbow, covering the half-healed gouges in his bicep from Orochi’s teeth. She debated with herself as she worked. Did she want to test his tolerance toward her?

“How are you feeling?” she asked quietly.

His eyes turned to her. The pale silver irises rimmed by a dark outline had always unnerved her, seeing as much as they concealed. “Fine.”

The single word was flat and irritable, as she’d expected. The Tengu was a proud yokai, and accepting help, or even allowing her to see his injuries, wasn’t easy for him. He would prefer no one to know his strength was compromised, let alone discuss it.

She wound a few more loops of bandage around his arm. “Are you recovering as well as you would like? Is there anything else I can do?”

“No,” he answered unhelpfully.

She tied the bandage in place, unsurprised that fishing for information wasn’t working. “You’re healing much slower than Susano. Why?”

Earlier that day, Susano had left the inn. His injuries had been almost as bad as Yumei’s but he had recovered far more swiftly. By the time he left, his once deep wounds had been no more than pink lines on his skin. In comparison, Yumei’s rate of healing concerned her.

He pulled his arm away and tore the excess bandage off with his teeth, briefly revealing his sharp canines. He dropped the scrap onto the table.

“I am not a Kunitsukami.”

When the sounds of movement stopped, she sank to her knees. Izanagi's representative knelt with the paper talisman in front of him, and the others did the same. She lifted the jade knife, dipped the point in the water, then carefully dried it with the cloth. Placing it across her palms, she lifted her hands and bowed her head.

"Izanagi, Amatsukami of the Sky," she intoned. "On this solstice, Amaterasu asks for your strength. Will you grant it?"

Shiro turned to her, and her breath caught at the ancient, fearless calm in his eyes - the calm of battle, of a hardened warrior. "Remove the onenju, Emi."

To suffer is to live. To struggle, to fight, is to know passion.