As the door closed behind the men, Rui exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
The room felt suddenly larger, quieter.
"Thank you," she whispered to her mother. "It was becoming a bit... crowded in here."
Princess Tian smiled, settling gracefully on the edge of Rui's bed. Her fingers—cool and light as morning mist—brushed a strand of hair from Rui's forehead.
"I'm here now," she said simply, the words carrying the weight of centuries apart.
Tian's gaze shifted to Kee Kee, who remained defiantly curled on Rui's pillow, tiny claws kneading the silk.
"And this little one?" she asked, amusement dancing in her eyes. "He seems quite protective of you."
Keekee puffed up his chest, his black fur bristling with pride.
"I'm her guardian," he announced, baring tiny fangs in what might have been a smile.
"Have been since she was small enough to fit in my paw."
"He exaggerates," Rui rolled her eyes, but her hand reached out to scratch behind Kee Kee's horns.
