Ren’s blade cut a shallow line in Kuro’s neck. Kuro hissed, and the lamp flickered as the oil reserves ran low. But the teahouse didn’t need shadows, demonic or natural, to put a stutter in Kuro’s heartbeat. Ren was frightening enough.

“Tell me now,” Ren said, “or I’ll make you tell me.”

Ren wouldn’t. He upheld his honour like it was worth something. He wouldn’t sink so far as to torture it out of Kuro. Not that he could get the truth he wanted, but with enough blood loss, Kuro would be desperate to tell him anything. Samurai were idiots that way. Torture didn’t encourage the truth.

But could Kuro push Ren? Kuro had already destroyed Ren’s innocence. Could he drive Ren to commit worse with his refusal?

“You want to face the Night Parade? Are you kidding me?” Kuro muttered the words between clenched teeth, trying to keep perfectly still. Ren couldn’t face the Night Parade. He couldn’t even face the truth. The Shogun had ordered his death.

“You’re one of them,” Ren said. “You snuck into my Capital. You made me lo—you made me feel sorry for you. Made me pity you.”

Kuro’s lip curled back. He did not want pity.

“I let you into my home. I introduced you to my family. I insisted, even when you begged me not to. What? Was it too hard to look upon the very people you helped murder?”

“I looked upon you just fine.” His thighs ached with the strain of holding himself half-lifted. “Just like you looked at me just fine. You knew I was a Dark Kitsune when you invited me in. You know what I am. You saw me twice.”

Ren wrenched his head away, teeth clenched.

“You wanted to use me just like the Shogun did,” Kuro snapped. “Admit it. You planned to send me to kill the Shogun. You’re only in denial that the Shogun beat you to it.”

“I thought you’d help me against the demons!”

“Win your throne, you mean,” he said. “Then cut off my head so I wouldn’t work against you.”

“I told you why already. I wanted you to help me protect my people. But you never listen. Even in the yard, you refused to listen to me, and yet I…” Ren gnashed his teeth together. “I thought you seemed nice, nothing like the demon from legend, so I… But I was obviously wrong. More fool me.”

“Ren…”

“You snuck out to break the barrier. No wonder I couldn’t find you.”

“You didn’t bother to look in the Riverbank Settlement.”

Ren’s cheeks puffed out, as if he swallowed back a laugh. “What’s really in the settlement? You spent so much time and energy keeping me from there. Is that where the Night Parade hides itself?”

Kuro squeezed his eyes shut. “I told you, it’s the only place neutral spirits can sleep.”

“Tell me where the Night Parade is.”

“Your precious Shogun—”

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“Tell me!”

“I’m not with the Night Parade.” Kuro tried to keep his voice as even as possible, to keep the pleading out of his voice. Please believe me. “I made a deal with the Shogun. The Sun Prince’s head for a shrine. But I didn’t know you. I didn’t know who the Sun Prince—”

“Enough.”

Kuro clenched his jaw. “If I was lying, why did the Shogun give me this teahouse? Why is he showering me with shamisen and courtesans and inari zushi?”

“You fooled him too.”

He snorted. “Your precious Shogun would fall for a fox prank?”

“Any more lies you’d like to try?” Ren lifted the blade, the edge tracing Kuro’s jawline. “I don’t want your life, Kuro. I want the Night Parade. I want to destroy them. So tell me.”

Kuro wanted more than anything to bow his head, to hide his calculation from Ren’s sight. He closed his eyes. The Night Parade or the Shogun. Either would kill Ren without hesitation. Ren would be a smear on history, the little prince who was taken out before the tale even began.

If Kuro wanted to protect Ren, he couldn’t allow Ren near either force.

“I will,” Kuro lied. The truth hadn’t helped him, but at least a lie might help Ren.

Ren’s shoulders sagged, as if he was disappointed he’d given in. Or perhaps disappointed in Kuro’s seeming confession. Idiot.

“But only once we’re adequately supplied,” Kuro said.

“You’ll tell me now.”

“It would be pointless. You’d rush out, and then starve to death on the way. We have to…” What had Ren expounded on in his stories? The tales of heroic journeys, mainly taken by the Shogun. “Cross rivers belonging to jealous dragons, and fight our way through oni-infested mountain passes. We have to climb mountains and sneak through forests teeming with demons. In the best of weather, the journey would take us seven or eight weeks. But with winter approaching…” Kuro shrugged a shoulder, minding the sword. “We need money.”

Ren huffed. “You’re delaying.”

“You might think you can live on vengeance,” he said, “but you do need to eat and sleep, both of which cost money on the road. And you’ll need to hire samurai.”

“Uncle Gorou will provision me.”

The problem with this lie was that Ren still had reason to trust the Shogun, but very little to trust Kuro. Kuro gnawed on his lip. He needed a reason, fast. “But,” he exclaimed the word very loudly, “you can’t tell the Shogun.”

“Back to that tired lie?” Ren’s hand remained steady, but he tightened his grip on the hilt.

“What do you think the Shogun will say when you tell him you want to traipse halfway across the empire to take on the Night Parade yourself?”

Ren shut his mouth.

“Exactly,” Kuro said. “He’ll build you a gilded prison next to my own, where you’ll never be able to sneak into town again.”

Ren considered him, but Kuro told the truth — if the Shogun hadn’t been plotting to kill Ren. At least the Shogun believed Ren to be dead. Sort of. Ren lifted the blade away from Kuro’s neck. Kuro sagged in relief, his arse flopping back down onto his calves. His thighs tingled from the strain.

Ren lifted the sword so the steel split the view of his face. One side should have been the old Ren, the Ren before. The Ren Kuro had abandoned to save. Ren sheathed his sword.

“Leave the supplies to me,” Kuro said.

Ren flicked his eyes up, but said nothing. He didn’t need to.

“You’re planning on dragging me along as well, right?”

He nodded. At least he had developed some wariness, some cunning. If he didn’t take Kuro, he couldn’t be sure that Kuro’s directions wouldn’t lead him to a volcano or into a trap.

“I don’t like to go hungry.”

Ren shrugged. “Fine. Go get the supplies.”

“Well, the thing about that is I can’t leave the teahouse.” Kuro gestured at the ofuda, and prepared another lie. “Only the onmyouji can break this barrier.”

Any human could, if they opened the entrance to the teahouse. Kuro pried his lips from the thin line they desperately wanted to make. The tension would only give the lie away.

Ren exhaled. “Fine.”

Kuro breathed easier. Time to gather enough money for a shrine. And then Kuro would lead Ren so very far away from the Capital, buy a shrine, and hide Ren there forever. Only a shrine could guarantee their lives.

“Then I’ll return tomorrow.” Ren turned for the open panel.

“No!” Kuro lunged for him. Ren went for his hilt. Kuro backed away. “You need to hide here, for now, or the Shogun will find you first.”

Ren remained silent, his gaze heavy on Kuro as if weighing his soul.

The barrier prevented Kuro from leaving. If Ren stormed out through the garden, Kuro wouldn’t be able to protect him.

As if Kuro had been able to protect him so far.

Ren nodded. “Fine. We leave tomorrow.”