“It wasn’t you,” she said as though informing Kuro of shocking new information.
“No,” Kuro confirmed. “But I understand why you thought it was. Even I thought it was me for a while.”
“And you really didn’t read my diary,” she added, perhaps hoping that would give her licence to renew her attacks on Kuro.
“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” Kuro said. “It was ruined when I first saw it.”
Rather than the refusal to believe him that Kuro expected, Azalea visibly relaxed and let out a sigh that was equal parts relief and disappointment. Then she gathered herself up and stood to attention, placing a fist over her heart. “I, Azalea Lamorak, squire of Summer, sworn protector of the throne of Tirnanog,” she said in the same formal tone she had used to challenge him to the duel, “rescind my allegations against you, Kuro Hayashi.”
“Sorry, what?” asked Kuro.
Her formality crumbled. She hunched her shoulders and looked away. “I’m trying to apologize,” she said.
“Oh. Okay” was all Kuro could think to say. “Why?”
“Because I am honour bound as a future Knight of the Sun to do so. I wrongly accused you of a crime.” Azalea was unsatisfied with the peaceful resolution her knightly duties demanded. “I still haven’t forgiven you for hurting Bella, though,” she said, trying to rekindle some animosity between them.
“Are you going to try to kill me again?” Kuro asked, uncertain if he should have started running much sooner.
“Not until you do something else to deserve it,” she replied.
Kuro nodded his understanding of her standing threat as she withdrew. “See you at home,” she said before disappearing entirely into the thick ferns of the spring forest.
It had been a strange conversation, and he wasn’t certain whether Azalea had apologized or declared war, but that was partly because he had trouble paying attention. The whole time he had the unmistakable feeling of being watched by a raccoon.
His familiar was looking at him from across the veil. It was an uncanny feeling. When he faced away from the veil, it was undeniable, but when he looked in the direction of the stare, it seemed impossible. So, he closed his eyes.
If he didn’t look, he knew he was being watched, and he knew where he was being watched from. He forgot about the smells of spring, the feeling of the sun on his skin, and the sounds of the bay. Instead, he focused all his attention on that feeling of eyes upon him and walked toward the familiar he knew was waiting for him just a few yards away.
He didn’t stop until he tripped over a tree root.
He fell forward, landing on a soft and furry cushion that hissed a complaint. He opened his eyes to find his familiar much less excited at Kuro’s arrival than he was. Kuro turned and looked behind him at the veil he’d just crossed, and the churning bay that was no longer a barrier between the school and the rest of the world.
He returned to dinner that night with a grin he couldn’t explain to his friends.
Dubois might have clipped his wings, but he had left the door to his cage open.
Volume 2: Burglary Page 33