Being carried by the Demon Prince was a lot like being strapped to a very handsome, sandalwood-scented battering ram.
Akira strode through the winding corridors of his estate, entirely unbothered by the fact that he was holding a grown woman and a very fat magical cat. Every servant and guard we passed immediately dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads to the floorboards. None of them dared to look up.
I didn't blame them. If I wasn't currently trapped in his arms, I would be hiding under the floorboards myself.
He finally stopped in front of a set of heavy sliding doors painted with fierce, swirling storm clouds. A complex onmyodo ward glowed faintly on the wood—a security seal meant to keep out high-level demons and assassins.
Akira didn't even chant a spell. He just glanced at the seal, and the magical barrier shattered into glittering blue dust.
Show-off, I thought weakly.
He slid the doors open and stepped into a sprawling, moonlit room. The air inside smelled of fresh tatami mats and dried plum blossoms. It was beautiful, austere, and massive.
He walked to the center of the room and gently—so, so gently—lowered me onto a thick silk cushion.
I scrambled back an inch the second my feet touched the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. Yuki, the fluffy traitor, remained comfortably draped across my lap, purring like a broken carriage wheel.
Akira took a deliberate step backward, creating a wide, respectful distance between us.
"These are the inner chambers," he said, his deep voice bouncing off the painted screens. "No one will disturb you here. You are safe."
"Safe," I echoed. My voice sounded dangerously close to a hysterical squeak. "Right. From everything except, you know, treason."
His dark brows pulled together, creating a small crease above his striking amber eyes. "Treason? My bride, I assure you, the Emperor does not have the power to touch you while you are under my protection."
"That is exactly the problem!" I blurted out, waving my hands. "I am a nobody! I work in the basement of the Bureau of Divination! I sort star-charts! If I suddenly show up as the fated consort to the Lord of the Northern Marches, they are going to execute my entire bloodline just out of sheer confusion!"
Akira didn't look angry. He just looked at me with that same terrifying, intense devotion.
"They will not touch your bloodline," he said smoothly. "And you are not a nobody. You slipped past a dozen elite guards, bypassed my perimeter wards without triggering a single bell, and earned the absolute loyalty of a sacred nekomata."
He looked at me like I was a tactical genius.
Oh gods, I realized with a fresh wave of horror. He thinks I'm a secret master onmyoji. He thinks I infiltrated his base on purpose.
"My Lord," I tried again, my voice trembling. "I really didn't—"
"I must fetch you appropriate garments for the morning," Akira interrupted softly, his gaze dropping to my cheap, pale gray robes. "And tea, to settle your spirit. The bond transfer can be draining. I will return shortly."
He bowed. An actual, formal bow. To me.
Before I could correct him, he turned and swept out of the room, sliding the heavy doors shut behind him.
The silence rushed back in.
I sat completely frozen for exactly five seconds. Then, I grabbed the cat by its armpits and hoisted it into the air.
"You!" I hissed, glaring into Yuki's glowing turquoise eyes. "You absolute menace! Fix this!"
Jingle. Yuki blinked slowly, looking utterly unapologetic.
"Don't you blink at me," I whispered furiously, shaking him slightly. "I came here for a haircut! Just a tiny little snip of fur to save my sister! I did not come here to get accidentally married to the scariest man in the empire!"
Yuki yawned, displaying an impressive set of sharp little teeth.
I dropped the cat onto the cushion and frantically patted down my robes, searching for the silver scissors I had brought. I'd dropped them on the porch. Of course I did.
"Fine," I muttered, lunging for the cat again. "I'll just pull a few loose hairs out. You shed, right? Every cat sheds."
I grabbed a pinch of fluffy white fur on Yuki's back and pulled.
Zap!
"Ow!" I yanked my hand back, shaking my stinging fingers. A tiny spark of blue electricity had literally shocked me.
Yuki let out a soft, mocking mrrow and began meticulously cleaning his front paw.
"Are you kidding me?" I stared at the cat in disbelief. "A magical defense mechanism? You let me pick you up, but you won't let me take your fur?"
I slumped back onto the tatami mat, burying my face in my hands. This was a nightmare. Rin was sick at home, probably wondering where I was, and I was trapped in a gilded cage guarded by a man who thought I was his soulmate.
The bond.
I suddenly remembered the glowing crest that had sunk into my chest. With shaking fingers, I pulled open the collar of my robe just enough to look down.
Right over my heart, glowing with a faint, pulsing blue light, was an intricate, circular tattoo. It looked like two intertwined foxes surrounded by protective runes.
I rubbed at it furiously. It didn't smudge. It wasn't ink. It was pure, terrifying onmyodo magic.
"Okay. Think, Kitsune," I whispered to myself, pacing the length of the room. "You just need to explain it to him rationally. Tell him the cat tackled you. Tell him you're just a desperate sister. If he's really this weirdly gentle guy, maybe he'll just give you the fur and let you go?"
The sliding doors clicked open.
I spun around, nearly tripping over the hem of my robes.
Akira stepped back into the room. He had removed his formal overcoat, wearing only a crisp white inner robe and his dark indigo hakama. Without the bulky layers, he looked even taller, his broad shoulders framing his sharp, aristocratic face. His pink hair cascaded over his collarbone like liquid silk.
He was carrying a wooden tray holding a steaming teapot, and draped over his other arm was a pile of folded fabric.
"I apologize for the delay," he said, setting the tray down on a low lacquered table. "I did not want to alert the main servant quarters just yet."
I swallowed hard. "Right. Good idea. Listen, My Lord—"
"Akira," he corrected smoothly, pouring a cup of tea. He offered it to me with both hands. "You may call me Akira."
I gingerly took the cup, careful not to let my fingers brush his. "Okay. Akira. Listen, about this whole... bride situation."
He knelt gracefully across from me, his amber eyes locked onto my face. "Yes?"
"Is this... crest thing..." I pointed vaguely at my own chest. "Is it permanent? Like, hypothetically, if someone were to make a mistake, could an onmyoji reverse it?"
Akira's expression didn't change, but the temperature in the room suddenly felt a lot colder.
"The Rite of Shared Spirit is a soul-deep bond," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "It cannot be forced. It cannot be faked. Yuki's soul reached out to yours, and yours answered. To break it would shatter the familiar's core, and likely tear your own spirit apart."
I choked on my tea.
I coughed violently, pounding on my chest. Yuki trotted over and unhelpfully patted my knee with a soft paw.
Tear my spirit apart? I couldn't breathe. I couldn't break the bond without dying or killing the cat?!
"You are overwhelmed," Akira said gently. He reached across the table, his large hand hesitating for a fraction of a second before he rested it lightly on my trembling shoulder. His thumb stroked the cheap silk of my robe. "I understand. I have been feared and despised by the court for my entire life because of this cursed blood."
He gestured vaguely to his pink hair.
"I know what I am asking of you," he continued, his voice thick with a raw, lonely vulnerability that completely derailed my panic. "By standing beside me, you will make enemies of powerful men. But I swear to you on my ancestors—I will let no harm come to you. You are my fated one."
I stared at him. The terrifying warlord, the Demon Prince who commanded legions... was looking at me like I was his only lifeline in a dark ocean. He really believed the spirits had sent me to save him from his isolation.
How was I supposed to tell him I was just trying to steal from him? It would break him. And then he would probably break me.
"I..." I swallowed the massive lump in my throat. "I don't even know what to do at court."
A soft, breathtaking smile broke across Akira's face. It completely transformed him, chasing away the shadows of the Demon Prince and revealing a ridiculously handsome man underneath.
"You need do nothing but stand by my side," he promised.
He reached over and pulled the pile of fabric toward us. It was a stunning, multi-layered kosode. The silk was midnight blue, embroidered with shimmering silver threads depicting falling snow and northern pines. The colors of his clan.
"Wear this tomorrow," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Let them see exactly who you belong to."
I stared at the incredibly expensive dress. I stared at the magical cat who was currently cleaning its ears, completely oblivious to the chaos it had caused.
Then I looked back at the pink-haired warlord who was ready to wage war on the entire Imperial Court for a woman he met twenty minutes ago.
I am going to need a lot more tea.