Chapter 10

A trip to Japan from the Americas is long. Long enough that I could make my plan and also get some sleep.

Nariel, demonstrating his ability to read a room, doesn't question me about the plan any further, which oddly makes it harder than dodging questions. Given what's at stake for him, that degree of trust squeezes my heart.

I wake up once again with my head on his shoulder.

This time one of his arms is wrapped around me too, holding me close.

That squeezes my heart even harder.

But unlike last time, I don't rush to move.

Probably I should, given what I'm planning. But given what I'm planning, I'm going to hold onto the moments like this I have left.

Nariel still doesn't say anything, and he also doesn't move, and I try not to wish that I could wake up like this every day. Try not to think that this may be the last hug I ever get. I wouldn't have thought that was something that mattered to me, but I never thought before that I might run out of chances.

And I never knew Nariel, before.

This is a terrible time to have caught feelings, and whatever it is I feel for him I'm not going to act on it. Too much is at stake for that. But in the space of my own head, I can acknowledge they exist, and they're strong—and it doesn't matter.

We stay just like that, me snuggled up against his side, quietly breathing together, until the flight attendants bring us breakfast and break the spell.

It was one perfect, heartrending interlude.

Now, back to work.

W hen we arrive in Kyoto, my first order of business is to get us a hotel for the night. This is mainly so I can use a shower.

If I were on a backpacking trip, I wouldn't care particularly. Since I am planning to meet a woman who dresses to slay and I need to convince her to take me seriously, this is not optional.

Also if somehow the chance to hang out in close quarters with Nariel comes up again, I would prefer not to smell. Now that I think about it, he doesn't smell, which is probably dark magic.

Oddly, I don't know any personal cleaning spells, just illusions in case the grand magus took me with him to talk to someone important while I was still covered in blood. I could figure one out—

—but it's not the best use of the time still available to me.

I go for a ryokan. Limited space due to the late notice and the season, so they only have one room available, but again, I'm really there for the bathing facilities. And I do have money to spend.

If I'm in Japan and I only get one last bath, I'm going to an onsen.

But before that, I need something clean to change into, so my second order of business is to take Nariel shopping—outside an airport this time.

I haven't shopped in Kyoto as much as Tokyo, but fortunately a quick conversation in Japanese with the ryokan staff points me in the right direction, even with all the festival preparations in the streets.

I strike out at finding nice sandals—my feet are too long for a lot of shoes here, so cleaning off my dirty boots it is. But while Nariel browses on his own, I do quick work at finding a cute short skirt with a basic top. In color, even. I don't have the personality to pull off some of the more elaborate tops that are common in Japanese street fashion, but I can dress stylishly enough to not embarrass myself in front of Ayaka.

When I finish with my purchases, Nariel is waiting for me with a bag of his own.

I raise my eyebrows in mute query.

He raises his back in daring challenge.

I laugh and lead us back to the ryokan.

No time for the full hot spring treatment yet, but I clean up, get changed, and when I'm ready to leave, Nariel is waiting.

He's still in mostly black, though he's shifted his style subtly to match summer streetwear. His shirt flows a little differently, the jacket has longer, softer lines, and he's added fancy sunglasses.

He looks, to put it mildly, extremely hot. I give myself a moment to take a deep breath.

"Good look," I say as casually as I can. "Love black for you."

He grins, bending his sunglasses down to glance at me, and despite my best efforts that look zings through me powerfully. God damm it he's beautiful.

"I admit I'm surprised to see you in a skirt," Nariel says. "I would've thought you'd consider them impractical."

I shrug. "Not planning on getting into any fights until tomorrow, and even if I do, I still have my wand."

This is in fact why I have a very light—August in Japan is no joke—sweater. Probably there's no way to not embarrass Ayaka if I'm openly wearing a wand when I meet her.

Nariel nods thoughtfully, but I see a glint in his eye as he says, "I believe I have the perfect final touch for you."

And then he floats a hat onto my head.

I burst out laughing.

I glance in the mirror and decide he's right. It is perfect.

So is he.

W e meet Ayaka in a fancy dessert café she picked out in the Gion district of Kyoto. She's clearly taken the train directly from work and looks sharp in a classy blouse, pencil skirt, extremely tall stilettos, and perfect makeup. Even her shoulder-length black hair looks fresh from a straightener, mysteriously untouched by the humidity of Japanese summers.

Here's what I know about Ayaka Takahashi. She's about my age, from somewhere more rural but can afford to live in Tokyo. She's a woman killing it in the business world despite a lot of cultural sexism still in the workplace, and you don't succeed to the degree she has unless you're ruthlessly determined, really fucking clever, and with nerves and a will of steel.

That last is what I'm really counting on.

The other parts might be what gets me into trouble.

Ayaka smiles as she arrives at our table, gracefully taking a seat. "Sierra, it's been too long," she greets me in Japanese. "I was so glad to be able to meet you today."

This is subtle code for: My time is valuable, and you'd better have a good reason for me to come out here on such short notice.

"It has been a long time, hasn't it?" I reply in Japanese and bow slightly. "I'm so sorry you had to come so far. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule."

A thing about training your brain to recognize and adapt to spell patterns is that, like programming, this translates fantastically into learning other languages. I'm at least passably competent in the languages for pretty much everywhere I've traveled a lot.

Understanding cultural nuances in how to employ those languages is something that I am much worse at, but Japan has so many power spots I've spent a lot of time here over the years.

"Oh no, it was no trouble at all," Ayaka demurs, because what else is she going to say, but also I've done my part in conveying adequate gratitude so she doesn't feel like she has to push it. Especially when she can instead put forth: "I didn't know you would be bringing a friend! I think I've only ever seen you on your own, haven't I?"

Translation: What the fuck, who is this, I did not agree to this, and with a side of, do you even have friends?

I love Ayaka. You can't get bespoke deniable shade like that just anywhere.

I say quietly, "This is Nariel, a demon prince."

This is a risk, but unlike with Seamus, I can't afford for her to spook if she learns this later.

Ayaka's pleasant expression doesn't falter as she just continues to look at me.

Then she looks at him.

Nariel takes my announcement and her reaction in stride, bowing lightly and murmuring in Japanese, "Pleased to meet you."

A waiter chooses that moment to arrive with dishes of matcha ice cream, azuki beans, and mochi. We all manage the social niceties of that interaction, and as he leaves, Ayaka takes a sip of her cold barley tea. She looks over the rim at me and says directly in English, "You need me for something. What do you think is in it for me?"

I withdraw a wand and set it on the table between us. "Power, and opportunity."

Ayaka carefully sets her cup down and doesn't look at the wand. "There is no magic in this."

"There can be if you want it. Low Earth can hold plenty of magic, and I'm bringing it back. I have anchors set up in England and Costa Rica. Tomorrow, Japan. Then the whole world will have as much magic—"

"You are stealing it from High Earth."

"They stole it from us. I am recovering it."

"And High Earth approves?" Ayaka looks at me sharply. "You're stealing it."

"Fine, yes. I'm stealing it back ."

Ayaka glances at Nariel. "And your part?"

He answers easily, "I am providing cover so Sierra can finish her work unmolested."

"Oh? How has that been working?"

Nariel smirks at her. "Delightfully."

"Hmmm." She draws the sound out speculatively. "And that's all?"

"That's enough," Nariel says smoothly.

I blink, realizing that although he's been answering my questions directly almost since the beginning, he's not going to do the same for Ayaka.

That's smart, don't get me wrong. It just makes me very aware that he's been trusting me more than he would another person normally.

I like that he thinks I'm different. And I like that we're on a team here, even if he doesn't know what I'm doing.

But frankly, he trusts me more than he probably should. I want to be worth it, but I'm not sure I am.

Ayaka looks back at me. "I am not going to stand between you and the power of High Earth. Not just for a wand."

That pricks, even if she's being smart.

Fortunately, I didn't count on that.

"I don't want you to stand between us at all," I tell her. "I want you to tell them exactly where I'll be in exchange for freedom from punishment. You'll give them just enough warning that they can assemble enough forces to feel comfortable but not enough to prepare the ground. Make it a magically enforceable bargain. Do you know how?"

Ayaka narrows her eyes. "I do." Then she leans forward. "You're setting a trap?"

"We are close in age, so naturally I sought you out upon my return to Low Earth looking for someone who would understand what I was going through," I explain the cover to her. "You always thought I was wrong to be so disrespectful, but you were polite because I had no friends. But now I've gone too far, and my quarrel with High Earth will endanger everything you've built for yourself, and you can't allow it."

"But I am mercenary to have done so well for myself, which is no less than they expect from all us grasping, ungrateful Low Earthers. So I will insist on the bargain, and they will look down on me for it but grant it." Ayaka nods, leaning back in her seat. "I see. They need help to find you due to the demon?"

Not his cloaking, but his threat. I just say, "Yes."

"What does your trap accomplish?"

"It makes the grand magus think I will be vulnerable, so he will bring my sister back so I can retrieve her from him."

Ayaka's eyes widen. "He kidnapped her? Truly?"

Nariel drawls, "Sierra has been very effective at stealing from them and preventing them from stopping her."

He lets that sink in; Ayaka's own family won't be at comparable risk, because she's not going to be standing against them. In theory.

But Ayaka still asks again, "What does your trap accomplish?"

I know what she means.

"It establishes that Low Earth has magic and can't be fucked with," I say. "And it leaves an opportunity to lead in a newly developing space full of power, and powerful people, in need of guidance."

Ayaka stares at me.

I dip my head, just slightly.

She does not look at Nariel, so I know she understands me.

I may not have her talent at intimation, but he is not the only one who can read a room.

Ayaka, of all people, understands that when dealing with older men accustomed to power, they will expect a sacrifice.

She takes a sip of tea.

She looks, deliberately, down at the wand.

Very quietly, I do my part. Before, this time, because I need her to trust me.

But also because if my plan works, I won't have another chance.

Quickly, competently, like it doesn't blow my mind every time how casual I can be about magic, that I have the power to grant magic to any wizard. Like I am doing a thing that no one in this nice café should take any notice of, like I am not with every wand I make changing the power structure of our world.

But also clearly, so that I will not be the only one who can do this.

I key the wand to Ayaka and push it toward her without a word.

She looks at it. Looks at me. Her gaze could be made of knives.

I make myself eat some more ice cream, nonchalantly, like I don't just want to stare at her like a creeper until she makes a decision, like I do not notice the weight of Nariel's gaze either.

This isn't no-risk for her, and we both know it.

But we also both know she is ambitious as fuck.

I did not choose her by accident.

After what feels like a million years, Ayaka deftly pockets the wand— how did she fit that in her outfit, what the fuck—and says only, "Text me the time and location."

And then she takes her leave without a backward glance.

I wait until the door has closed behind her to slump back in my seat and let out a breath.

"She didn't ask how to get in touch with High Earth," Nariel notes.

I shake my head. "She'll figure that out herself. If Evram suspects I had anything to do with it, he'll know I'm playing him."

"She could be playing you."

I take a bracing gulp of tea. "Do you think she is?"

Slowly, he shakes his head. "I do not."

I look at him. He doesn't look happy, but he's also not telling me that.

I firmly tell myself it is not my job to manage his feelings if he's not willing to tell me what they are, and I finish my ice cream.

The truth is I don't want to know. If he does know what I'm doing and disapproves, there's nothing I can do about it anyway.

B ack at the ryokan, I announce that I'm going to take advantage of the hot springs.

Then Nariel says, "I have another idea."

I brace myself for the conversation I desperately don't want to have.

But he opens the closet in our shared room to reveal his shopping bag from earlier.

And then he pulls out a yukata, a traditional summer kimono worn at festivals. It's a brilliant red with delicate cherry blossoms.

I stare at him.

"You aren't expecting any fights today," Nariel reminded me.

"I know that. You want to join the Tanabata festival?"

"Don't you?"

Yes . The answer rises in me so strongly I don't let it out, and say instead, "I was asking you."

Nariel looks at me intently. "I haven't been in many years. I hoped you could show me."

Oh lord. Tanabata is the festival celebrating the one day a year that a pair of godly lovers separated by the cosmos can meet.

I may have hysterics.

Somehow I manage, "I don't know how to tie the obi."

"I do," Nariel says, because of course he does, he's hundreds of years old, why wouldn't he know how to tie a dang obi?

(This thought followed closely by, ohmygod, is he also going to wear a kimono, and will I be able to cope?)

Nariel crosses the room and puts the yukata in my hand.

"Red for boldness," he murmurs. "Cherry blossoms for—"

"I know what cherry blossoms are for."

The beauty in transience. Appreciating that moment while you have it.

I really am going to cry.

I grab the yukata and seal myself in the bathroom to get a hold of myself while I put it on.

Deep breaths, Sierra.

The red has a kind of sheen to it, so it's bright and vibrant but not in-your-face fire-engine red. Probably it's expensive.

There are no tags on it, so for all I know Nariel took a quick jaunt up to spirit world and pulled this out of storage. I'm not sure if that would be more overwhelming than the idea that he saw this and thought of me, or less.

Don't ask questions you're not prepared to know the answers to. Back in High Earth I would tell myself that to remind myself that I was ready, always ready, for whatever they could throw at me.

I'm older now, and wise enough to know that this answer would only cause me more turmoil.

I take another deep breath, waste a quick spell to cast an illusion on my eyes so they're not reddened by tears—works just as well as with blood—and gather the robe around me and stride back out.

Nariel, in the meantime, has traded his jacket for a black kimono jacket, which he, of course, looks absolutely devastating in.

Its cherry blossom pattern matches my yukata.

This is so much worse than matching festive pajamas.

I look up at the ceiling, as if the gods can help me.

Nariel chuckles, and the sound is like velvet over my nerves as he approaches with the sash. "That unimpressed?" he asks.

"Hardly," I drawl. "I wondered before if it was possible for you to not look this good all the time, and increasing evidence suggests you actually look better with more exposure. Jesus. Was the matching strictly necessary?"

He tilts his head. "Does it bother you?"

"The comparison bothers me," I grumble, turning around so he can get to work tying the obi.

Nariel starts wrapping it around me, and I am trying very hard to ignore that his hands are on me—I think he's being businesslike and that it's only me that feels like every touch is sensual. But then he says in my ear, "You're beautiful, Sierra."

I can't stop the shiver this time.

But I can ignore it, and his hands, through an effort of sheer will. "I'm aware, but I am not literally otherworldly beautiful."

"Hmm."

Nariel crosses in front of me, finishing off the tie.

"For someone with hordes of minions, you are very efficient at this," I note, and I am unreasonably proud that my voice doesn't even sound strained.

His lips curve in a smile, though his eyes stay focused on the knot.

Then he looks up under his lashes at me and my breath catches.

He curves his arm around me, and turns us in sync to the full length mirror.

I stare at us for a long moment.

Us, me and Nariel, a demon prince. Together, a matched set. Our edges look almost fuzzy, like someone has applied a filter to the mirror.

Magic.

Then Nariel says, "Do you not look as magical as I?"

My heart stops. And since I'm watching us in the mirror, it's clear we both see it.

I have no idea what to say.

Then Nariel saves me again.

The sunglasses materialize in his hand, and as he puts them on I burst out laughing again at the image he strikes.

Then I grab my phone and snap a selfie of us before he knows what I'm doing.

He lowers his eyes to look over the sunglasses at me.

I wiggle my eyebrows in silly challenge.

He smiles, that slow curving of the lips that sets my heart racing.

Then he turns up his nose and strikes an unaffected pose, and I let out a breath, that this is as far as he is pushing it. Me.

But the phone has reminded me that I can control our conversation, too.