“Only when my grandfather is present.”
Rui looked down at her own outfit.
Yiran had told her to wear her best, and her best was, well, not that great. She had on her cleanest pair of black jeans—more faded gray than black, frankly, and worn at the knees—and her favorite oversized sweater, which, to her horror, was molting at the right sleeve. By force of habit, she’d brought her talismans and weapons, tucked away in an old sword bag that had seen better days. Standing here in this grand mansion, Rui wished she’d borrowed a dress from Ada.
Yiran shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Nervous energy radiated from him. Rui’s own anxiety spiked. Curse that empathic link.
“Why are you still sitting there?” he said. “It’s time for dinner. Remember what I told you—”
“Speak only when spoken to, keep my voice low, don’t start eating until after he takes his first bite, refill his tea, hold my chopsticks the correct way—please, I’m not an uncultured swine, and I’m not auditioning to be his granddaughter-in-law.”
There was a long awkward pause as they both processed what Rui had blurted out of annoyance.
As if on cue, Ash glided into the room. Dressed in a pair of black slacks and a taupe cardigan, he looked every bit like the heir to this kingdom.
“Who’s auditioning to be my sister-in-law?”
“Shut up,” Yiran said.
Rui considered drowning herself in the koi pond.
“Good evening, Rui,” Ash said, trying not to laugh. She nodded back. Ash never called her by her first name. “Come along, kids. We mustn’t keep Yeye waiting.”
He placed a hand on each of their shoulders, steering them to the dining room. The round table was large enough to seat ten, but it was prepared for four. All the cutlery had the family name embossed onto it, but one set of utensils was different from the rest: a band of gold ran across the top of the chopsticks and the handles of the fork and spoon.
Deliberately, Ash positioned himself between Yiran and Rui, placing her to the left of where his grandfather would be sitting. A little too close for comfort, but perhaps better than sitting directly opposite in full view of the Head of the Exorcist Guild.
Moments later, Song Wei entered. He was as tall as Rui remembered and a lot more intimidating. This was a man who could command with a look and condemn with a gesture.
She had glimpsed him once in person. It’d been the last day of her mother’s funeral wake, and she was standing outside the crematorium. A black limousine pulled up in the rain, stopping by the side of the road. Rui’s father was too distraught to notice, distracted by the principal of Xingshan Academy who’d come to pay his respects and offer Rui a place in the school. But Rui saw the car and the old man in it. He was dressed in white, a sign of respect for the dead. Song Wei never got out of the vehicle, nor did anyone from the Guild approach the Lins that day. Rui never thought she’d be meeting him again in his own home.
His two grandsons bowed. Noting the differences in their postures, Rui did the same.
“Finally, I get to meet the person who saved my grandson from a nasty fate,” Song Wei said, his manner transforming from stern leader to charming host.
“The honor is mine, sir.”
“Your name is Lin Ru Yi?”
“I go by Rui.”
“You must tell me how you defeated that Revenant, but first, let us eat. Lan Xi has to prepare for tonight.”
“For a Hunt? The moon isn’t full tonight; is it tactical?” Rui asked.
Song Wei’s brows lifted, his gaze sharpening. “Observant, I see.” He turned to Yiran. “How has school been? I heard you had another training session in the Simulator yesterday.” The temporary warmth Song Wei displayed with Rui vanished when he addressed his younger grandson.
Unspoken tension filled the room. Rui squirmed in her seat. Words started coming out of Yiran’s mouth like he was a mechanical toy, wound up and set off. As dishes were served, he regurgitated his recent days at school, studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone. Ash nodded along, commenting at the right moments, slipping in a few jokes to lighten the mood.
Rui concentrated on her food. Their weird family charade was too painful to witness. The longer it went on, the more she wondered if Yiran acted the way he did outside his home because he thought it was the only way to be accepted. To be loved.
When Yiran was done, Ash piped up, “No one succeeds the first few times in the Simulator. Accidents happen. And not everyone matches up with a spirit weapon right away.”
“You did,” Yiran said tonelessly. He squished his rice to the side of his bowl. He’d hardly eaten any of it.
Rui stuffed a clump of enoki into her mouth and focused on chewing the stringy mushrooms. The only spiritual weapon Yiran could match with was hers, but Song Wei couldn’t know that.
Ash waved away the tension with the practiced hand of someone who had to do it often. “It’s not a big deal. You’ll get it right soon.”
