Crown of the Empire

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Kyoto smelled different.

When the jet touched down and the doors opened, I expected the same sharp bite of winter I'd endured in Moscow. Instead, the air was softer here, crisp but not brutal, scented faintly of pine and something floral I couldn't name. Even the cold felt curated, like Japan had decided weather should be polite.

We drove from the airport in another expensive car (naturally), though this one was less imperial command, more understated elegance. Black, sleek, unbranded. A car that whispered money instead of screamed it. Of course, that matched Nikolai perfectly.

I pressed my forehead against the window, watching as the city gave way to rolling countryside. The Takedo estate revealed itself slowly, like it was teasing me: first bamboo, then cherry trees somehow coaxed into bloom in the dead of winter, their blossoms soft against the grey sky. Finally, the gates—sliding wood with iron inlays, guarded but not ostentatious. Nothing like the Romanov fortress.

"If the Romanovs carved their legacy into stone," I muttered, "the Takedos whispered theirs into wood and paper walls."

Nikolai, beside me, didn't react. Of course.

The car glided into a courtyard paved in stone so smooth it might have been polished daily. A koi pond stretched to one side, its water steaming slightly in the cold, golden fish moving lazily beneath. Lanterns glowed along the covered walkways, casting warm light against cedar beams.

I almost forgot to be irritated. Almost.

The front doors slid open. And then—ambush.

"Mariya!"

I froze as a small but formidable figure hurried down the steps. She was shorter than me, her hair streaked with silver, her kimono a deep plum embroidered with cranes. And before I could even register what was happening, Grandmother Estrella Alcaraz-Takedo had me in her arms.

"My dear girl!" she exclaimed, her voice rich with Filipino warmth. "You're thinner than I imagined! Do they not feed you in Russia?"

I sputtered. "I—what—"

"Oh, look at you," she said, pulling back to study me, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Pretty, but too pale. Needs more sun. Kyoto will fix that."

I glanced at Nikolai, silently screaming for help. He just inclined his head in greeting, like this was completely normal.

Then came Grandfather Hiroshi Takedo. Tall, thin, his hair snow-white but neatly tied back, his kimono a plain black. His presence was the opposite of Estrella's warmth—still, dignified, like a temple carved into human form.

"Welcome," he said, bowing slightly.

I bowed back, trying not to overdo it. "Thank you, sir."

"Not sir," Estrella interrupted, swatting my arm lightly. "Call him Lolo. Call me Lola. We're family now."

Family.

The word lodged in my throat. My own family had practically declared me a liability months ago, but here, I was being hugged and renamed within sixty seconds.

Estrella looped her arm through mine, pulling me toward the entrance. "Come, come. You must be tired. We've prepared dinner. And don't worry, we'll find you proper clothes while you're here. Nikolai, did you not tell her?"

I shot him a glare over my shoulder. He, of course, looked completely unbothered.

Inside, the estate was everything I'd imagined Japanese tradition would be—tatami mats, sliding shoji doors, low tables, art scrolls on the walls. But it wasn't cold. It was lived in, warm, as though the walls had soaked in laughter for generations.