Free The Fox's God by Anna Frost Page A

talk about something important! He might have something good to report today!
    You believe we should take Inari’s side, if she lives? Kiba’s tail flicked back and forth, the meaning of which Mamoru tentatively put down as troubled or interested. It is true it would do no good to try and fail to take her down. Only fools anger gods. But for all that we call her our patron goddess, we do not know if she would be our ally. Her life in this world is so far in the past I doubt our clan existed at the time.
    “You’re right we can’t assume she would be well-disposed towards us, but we can hope she would be. I’m sure we can count on your daughter to seek an alliance, should the possibility arise.”
    Ha. There’s no doubt whatsoever my daughter would be thrilled to befriend a god. Whether it would be good is another matter. She might take over the world.
    Though Mamoru had heard one or two weird whispers about Kiba “daughters,” he’d found no proof there was a third child in the family. Not a living one, anyway. The daughter they spoke of must therefore be Sanae.
    Mamoru waited for more, but the men were silent, enjoying their tea—the human drinking from a cup, the fox lapping from a bowl. Grandmother Naoko’s approaching spark compelled him to move on, drifting through the walls, through the garden, through the fortifications protecting the clan from attack. He moved slowly and steadily, pretending to be a regular, unthreatening spirit that just happened to be having a look at the physical world. There were plenty of other spirits for him to blend with because the forest around the clan house was thick with life.
    Once he was a safe distance away, he faded into the spirit realm. It was like slipping under a lake’s surface, only the tiniest ripple betraying his passage. He knew, without quite knowing how, which way was home. Once he was closer, familiar sparks stood out—Usagi, right there in their shared quarters, and Advisor Yoshida in his private ones.
    His body awaited him, seemingly sleeping. Nobody had come in and cut his throat while he was away. It might yet happen, but not today. He dove in, spreading out into a body that welcomed him. He cautiously stretched muscles left inactive for long hours and blinked until he’d reacquainted himself with physical sight.
    In the other room, Usagi spoke with a servant who must have brought food, for there were several plates on the low table.
    “Mamoru, finally! I was about to wake you.” To the servant, she said, curtly, “You may go.” The girl bowed and retreated.
    There was rice, two types of fish, tiny bowls filled with pickled vegetables, plates of noodles, and plenty of miso soup. The food wasn’t cold, but getting there.
    “Is it safe?” Mamoru inquired.
    “That’s one of Advisor Yoshida’s trusted servants,” Usagi said. The unspoken but obvious meaning was “if he wants us dead, we’ll never escape.”
    Their former clan was disbanded, the leader slain and surviving members scattered. It would have been distressing, except for the fact it meant he no longer had to fear that clan leader Yoshio would end him. Their new master Advisor Yoshida might yet chose to kill him because he knew too many secrets, but the man didn’t seem like someone who liked to waste useful tools. If he stayed useful, he should be safe. Assuming the foxes didn’t get him.
    They ate, chopsticks darting from plate to plate.
    Usagi watched him with unusual intensity. Before he could ask why, she volunteered, “You worry me, sleeping so much. You hardly ever leave our rooms. Are you feeling unwell?”
    He couldn’t tell her the real reasons for his hermit ways. First there was the bodiless spying he performed for Advisor Yoshida. Second there was the danger of being spotted by a dragon; the Imperial Palace was overflowing with important persons who had one. What if they could tell he was half-demon? What if they alerted their masters or spat acid in his face? Being