Being carried by the Demon Prince felt rather like being borne off by a very handsome, sandalwood-scented battering ram.
Akira moved through the winding corridors of his estate with unhurried confidence, entirely unconcerned by the fact that he carried a grown woman and an exceptionally large magical cat. Every servant and guard we passed immediately dropped to their knees, foreheads pressed to the floor. None dared to raise their eyes.
I could hardly fault them. Had I not been trapped in his arms, I might have attempted to hide beneath the floorboards myself.
He came to a halt before a set of heavy sliding doors painted with fierce, swirling storm clouds. A complex onmyodo seal glowed faintly across the surface
...a ward meant to repel powerful spirits and intruders alike.
Akira did not so much as chant. He cast the seal a single glance, and it unraveled into drifting blue light.
…Of course it did.
He slid the doors aside and stepped into a spacious, moonlit chamber. The air carried the scent of fresh tatami and dried plum blossoms. It was elegant, restrained, and vast.
He crossed to the center of the room and lowered me onto a silk cushion with surprising care.
The moment my feet touched the floor, I shifted back slightly, drawing my knees toward my chest. Yuki, the traitor, remained sprawled comfortably across my lap, purring with deep satisfaction.
Akira took a measured step back, leaving a respectful distance between us.
"These are my inner chambers," he said, his voice carrying softly across the painted screens. "No one will intrude. You are safe here."
"Safe," I echoed faintly. My voice wavered despite my efforts. "Yes… safe, aside from the matter of treason."
His brows drew together slightly. "Treason? My bride, you are under my protection. The Emperor himself would not dare lay a hand upon you."
"That is precisely the issue!" I blurted, my hands lifting in agitation. "I am no one of consequence. I serve in the lower halls of the Bureau of Divination. I sort star-charts. If I appear tomorrow as the consort of the Lord of the Northern Marches, they may very well execute my entire family out of sheer bewilderment!"
Akira did not appear offended. He regarded me with that same unwavering intensity.
"No harm will come to your family," he said calmly. "And you are no insignificant figure. You passed through a dozen elite guards, crossed my wards without raising alarm, and earned the loyalty of a sacred nekomata."
He looked at me as though I had accomplished something remarkable.
…This is bad.
He believes I did this deliberately.
"My lord," I began again, my voice unsteady. "I truly did not—"
"I must prepare suitable garments for you," Akira said gently, his gaze dropping to my worn gray robes. "And tea, to steady your spirit. The transfer of a bond can be taxing. I will return shortly."
He bowed. A formal, deliberate bow. To me.
Before I could protest, he turned and departed, the doors sliding shut behind him.
Silence returned at once.
I remained frozen for several long seconds. Then, abruptly, I seized the cat beneath its forelegs and lifted it into the air.
"You," I hissed, staring into Yuki's glowing turquoise eyes. "You will correct this immediately."
Jingle. Yuki blinked slowly, entirely unrepentant.
"Do not look at me like that," I whispered, shaking him lightly. "I came for a small clipping of fur. A single snip. I did not come to bind myself to the most dangerous man in the empire."
Yuki yawned, revealing a neat row of sharp little teeth.
I set the cat down and hurriedly patted through my robes, searching for the scissors I had brought. I had dropped them outside. Naturally.
"Very well," I muttered, lunging toward the cat once more. "Then I will simply take what has already shed. Every creature sheds."
I grasped a small tuft of white fur and pulled.
Zap!
"Ah—!" I recoiled, shaking my stinging fingers. A tiny spark of blue energy had shocked me.
Yuki made a soft, almost amused sound and began calmly grooming its paw.
"You cannot be serious," I said, staring at it. "A defensive enchantment? You allow me to carry you, yet deny me a single strand of fur?"
I sank back onto the tatami, pressing my hands to my face. This was impossible. Rin lay ill at home, waiting, and I was trapped within a beautifully adorned prison, guarded by a man convinced I was his destined companion.
The bond.
The memory struck me at once. The crest.
With unsteady fingers, I loosened the collar of my robe just enough to look down.
Over my heart, glowing faintly with blue light, was an intricate marking...two intertwined foxes encircled by delicate runes.
I rubbed at it. It did not fade. It was not ink. It was something far more binding.
"Think, Kitsune," I whispered, rising and pacing the length of the room. "Explain it calmly. Tell him the truth...that the cat leapt, that you are only a desperate sister. If he is as… gentle as he appears, perhaps he will release you. Perhaps he will even grant what you need."
The doors slid open.
I turned too quickly, nearly catching my foot in my hem.
Akira entered. He had removed his outer layers, leaving only a white inner robe beneath his indigo hakama. Without the added weight of formal attire, his tall frame seemed even more imposing, his features sharper. His pink hair fell loosely against his collar.
In one hand, he carried a wooden tray bearing a steaming teapot. Draped over his other arm was a folded set of garments.
"I regret the delay," he said, placing the tray upon a low table. "I wished to avoid drawing the attention of the main household."
I swallowed. "Yes… that is wise. My lord—"
"Akira," he corrected gently, pouring tea into a cup and offering it with both hands. "You may call me Akira."
I accepted the cup carefully, mindful not to brush against him. "…Very well. Akira. Regarding this… situation."
He knelt across from me, his gaze steady. "Yes?"
"This crest…" I gestured vaguely toward my chest. "Is it permanent? If… a mistake had been made, could it be undone?"
His expression remained composed, yet the air in the room seemed to grow colder.
"The Rite of Shared Spirit binds the soul," he said, his voice deepening. "It cannot be imposed. It cannot be imitated. Yuki's spirit reached for yours, and yours answered. To sever such a bond would destroy the familiar...and likely tear your own spirit apart."
I choked on my tea.
I coughed violently, pressing a hand to my chest. Yuki wandered over and, most unhelpfully, tapped my knee with a soft paw.
Destroy my spirit?
So breaking it meant death...for me, or the cat. Or both.
"You are overwhelmed," Akira said quietly. He reached out, pausing briefly before resting his hand lightly upon my shoulder. His thumb brushed against the worn fabric of my sleeve. "I understand. I have been feared and shunned by the court all my life because of this blood."
He gestured faintly to his hair.
"I know what I ask of you," he continued, his voice carrying a quiet weight. "To stand beside me is to invite hostility from powerful men. Yet I swear to you, by the name of my ancestors...I will not allow harm to reach you. You are the one chosen for me."
I looked at him in silence.
The feared warlord was watching me as though I were something precious, something long-awaited. As though I had been sent to him.
How could I tell him the truth? That I had come only to steal? That this was all a mistake?
It would shatter that expression.
And afterward… he might very well shatter me.
"I…" I swallowed, forcing my voice to steady. "I do not even know how to conduct myself at court."
A faint, radiant smile touched his lips. It transformed him entirely, softening the severity of his features.
"You need do nothing," he said gently. "Only remain at my side."
He drew the folded garments forward. It was a layered kosode of exquisite make...midnight blue silk embroidered with silver threads depicting falling snow and northern pines. The colors of his house.
"Wear this tomorrow," he said, his voice lowering slightly. "Let them see to whom you are bound."
I stared at the garment. Then at the cat, now calmly grooming itself as though none of this concerned it.
Then at the man before me...prepared, it seemed, to defy the entire Imperial Court for a woman he had known for less than an hour.
…
I am going to require far more tea than this.