Page 71

Aiko inhaled, before she continued, "Do you remember when I told you I know a little magic?"

She opened her hand. Nestled in her palm was a small charm, carefully wrapped, old but well kept. There seemed to be a buzz around it...a kind of electricity that pressed against the air, subtle and mysterious.

"A friend brought this to me," Aiko said. "From Hasedera Temple in Kamakura." She hesitated. "Amulets meant to sever harmful ties—bad relationships, toxic bonds, destructive habits…" She chose the words carefully. "To cut evil connections."

Fae's breath seemed to freeze in her lungs.

"This one is called Kuri-Mamori," Aiko said. "It represents leaving suffering behind. It's meant to help people break free from what keeps them trapped: pain, grief, relationships that no longer serve them. And to make space for ryōen—good ties—to enter."

She placed the charm gently into Fae's hand.

"You must wear it on your body," Aiko said. "Keep close. If it works...the bond should dissolve in two months."

For one dizzying moment, the world narrowed to the small weight resting in Fae's palm.

Freedom.

Her fingers curled around it instinctively.

Aiko did not let go.

Her grip tightened, just enough to stop Fae from pulling away. Fae looked up with a question in her eyes.

"Are you sure?" Aiko asked softly. "Because there is nothing in this world that comes without a price." Her voice was gentle, but her eyes looked older. Fox-bright. "Magic demands things from us. The cost may be more than you are ready to pay."

The charm lay between them, caught in both their hands.

Fae swallowed.

And for the first time since she had come to the village, she experienced doubt.

Was it worth it?

Chapter 31

Life continued in the village.

Fae's hands grew more confident with each passing day. What had once required conscious thought was now muscle memory—the right angle to hold the saw, the patience of the cut, the restraint of stopping just before force became damage and she had to rework the whole thing. Haruko-san watched closely, saying little, correcting much. Occasionally, he smiled proudly.

When he finally judged her ready, the work leveled up.

He handed her the harder projects which needed a finer hand. He was also less forgiving, which meant she was always on the negative end of his attention.

"The unlearning," he told her calmly one morning as she dismantled a joint she had rushed, "is always more difficult than learning."

She knew that better than anyone. Every bad habit stripped away felt like tearing out something half-rooted and stubborn. She learned to slow down and accept starting again without resentment. It was hard going, but at the end of the day, she slept well. If not for her dreams of Blaidd, she would have forgotten she had a lifemate and that two full moons had passed without seeing him.

Small gifts began appearing outside her door.

A neatly wrapped bundle of rice cakes that she liked. A carved hairpin left where she could not miss it. Once, a sprig of mountain flowers tied with twine. Always anonymous, but the faint smell of cypress persisted in the offerings. Suspiciously, Kenji smelt the same.

He joined them on their runs in the forest.

He kept his distance at first, especially since Sora's sleek black wolf growled warningly while hovering over Aiko when he crept close. But Kenji only had eyes for Fae.

In animal form, his fox was larger than most—nearly as large as Fae's wolf. His fur was the colour of fresh snow, unmarked and bright, his eyes a pale brown that caught the light like old amber. He moved with a quiet grace, powerful but restrained.

Aiko pretended not to notice how often he paced near her. It was a game of advance and retreat.