Page 92 of Tears of Gold

“Next year I’ll celebrate my t-tenth decade,” Erritt admits quietly.

Harper whistles. “Geez, Ava, you’re dating old men.”

Skye kicks him in the shin and Harper yelps. “Shut up! We’re barely adults.”

I laugh, a giddy feeling bubbling up in my chest. Everything’s so different on Exerin-Mi, I think I half suspected their age would be too because nothing about our relationship has been normal, and I think that suits me perfectly. Normal never worked too well for me back on Earth.

But Skye and Erritt still seem to be processing my shorter life span.

“Well, compared to your lives, mine doesn’t sound long,” I offer. “But I’ve spent so much time in a hospital wondering if I was dying that I’m thankful for my life, whatever I get of it. And even though it’s been frightening, I’m thankful I came here too. I feel like I’ve lived more fully than I have in the rest of my life combined.”

“Several kidnappings and near-death experiences will do that to you,” Harper says drily. “What kind of bastards kidnap a sick girl anyway?”

“Handsome ones.” I elbow him and he smiles slyly.

“You’ve always had the heart pain?” Skye asks, watching our interaction with a tiny smile.

“Not always. It started when I went through puberty.”

Both Erritt and Skye look confused, so I have to explain the concept of physical maturity, blushing as I pick through my words. When I’m thoroughly embarrassed explaining how a young human blossoms to two men who didn’t even know what a period was until they met me, I mutter, “Good old discordant soul.”

Skye elbows Erritt in a not very subtle cue.

“It doesn’t seem like the right time to bring this up,” Erritt complains as he runs a hand across his face, the tree’s shadow mottling his skin. But Skye gives him a look that means he won’t take no for an answer.

Erritt sighs as he turns to me. “About your soul—I did some research into your condition when I was at the palace. So far we know that although you don’t have qi of your own, you do have the scent of qi,” he points to Harper, “Which is how Harper’s blood spitter identified you in the first place.” He tilts his head in question and Harper agrees.

“What does that mean?” I ask, my heart beat echoing hollowly in my ears.

Errit laces his fingers together and sighs, not meeting my eyes. “The most likely explanation I could find is that someone without qi but the capacity for it is a vessel.” His eyes flick to me briefly. “Like a host.”

I shake my head. “So, it’s not a discordant soul?”

“Well, in some ways it is a discordant soul; it’s your body’s awareness of a potential soul that’s missing.”

He scoots forward and takes both my hands in his. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to tell you this, but keeping secrets hasn’t worked out to well for us lately.”

I press my hand against my chest, nodding numbly. “Yeah.”

Harper tenses against my side and his leg starts jiggling. “There’s more, isn’t there? What’s the purpose of a human vessel?”

Erritt purses his lips and exchanges another significant look with Skye, sending lead sinking through my belly. It’s not good news.

“There are a few b-beings out there who can utilize, or I suppose you might call it ‘possessing’ a vessel, but given the Davinas are desperate to get their . . . hands on Ava, and are looking to entice very powerful creatures into their ranks, plus they mentioned a female, there’s only one that seems likely.”

“Just tell me,” I demand when he hesitates again. It feels like whatever he says will change the course of my future, but if there’s an answer for my years in the hospital, frequent heart pain, and my feeling of not fitting in, I need to hear it.

“I think it might be a kitsune.”

I stare at him, knowing I’ve heard the name but not immediately recognizing it. Then a hundred different anime stories catch up with me and it clicks. “Oh my gosh, are you talking about the nine-tailed fox?” I steady myself against Harper’s knee, feeling light headed.

“Isn’t that just a legend,” Harper asks, gripping my shoulders from behind.

Erritt shakes his head. “No, the kitsune is real alright, and long-lived. It shows up enough in history as a force of nature, but there hasn’t been a sighting in over a thousand years.” He sighs. “Possibly because the Eighth Realm, the kistune’s home, was completely destroyed—it’s uninhabited now.”

“Could it have died?” I ask, clutching for a straw of hope.

Erritt stands up, his nervous twitching converting to pacing. “Possibly, but would the Davinas procure the scent needed to find and hunt you across the twelve realms if they thought it was a myth?” He rounds on Harper. “I assume it was a scent card the Davinas gave you for the blood spitter to trace?”