"Wife."
The word hung in the cool autumn air, heavy, terrifying, and completely absurd.
My brain violently blue-screened. I just stared at the Demon Prince kneeling in front of me, his striking pink hair catching the moonlight, his intense amber eyes looking at me like I was made of spun glass and answered prayers.
Wife? "I..." My voice cracked. I cleared my throat, trying to sound like a rational human being and not a cornered mouse. "I think there's been a massive misunderstanding. My Lord."
"There is no misunderstanding." Akira's voice was a low, smooth rumble. He didn't move to grab me, which was nice, but his gaze pinned me to the wooden floorboards just as effectively. "You bear the crest. The Rite of Shared Spirit."
"The what now?" I squeaked.
I looked down at the heavy bundle of white fluff in my arms. Yuki, the ancient nekomata, looked back up at me with bright turquoise eyes.
Jingle. The cat let out a tiny, pathetic mewl and shoved its head under my chin, acting like a frightened, delicate little kitten.
Liar, I thought wildly. You literally tackled me!
"He chose you," Akira murmured. The awe in his voice was doing terrible things to my heart rate. "Yuki has rejected every onmyoji, every noble, every spirit-tamer who has tried to approach him for fifteen years. But he shared his soul-bond with you. He recognized you as my fated consort."
"No, no, he really didn't!" I scrambled backward until my back hit the sliding shoji screen. I held the cat out toward him like an explosive device. "Here! Please, take him back! He just... jumped! It was a jumping accident! I am nobody's consort!"
Akira didn't take the cat. He just looked at my trembling hands, his expression softening into something devastatingly gentle. It was a look that absolutely did not belong on the face of a man known for slaughtering entire rebel armies.
"You are terrified," he said softly.
"Yes! Very!" I nodded frantically. "Because I'm not supposed to be here! I'm just a minor official from the Bureau of Divination! I organize star-charts! I am deeply unqualified for... for whatever this is!"
Akira slowly rose to his feet. He was absurdly tall. The dark indigo hakama he wore rustled softly.
"The magic of the ancients does not care for court rankings," he stated, his tone carrying the absolute authority of a royal prince. "The ritual is complete. The spirits brought you to my courtyard under the Tsukimi moon. You are mine to protect now."
The spirits didn't bring me here, my sick sister's desperate need for magical cat fur brought me here!
I opened my mouth to confess everything. To just scream, I'm a thief! Arrest me! Throw me in a normal prison where I don't have to marry a warlord!
But before I could form the words, a chaotic symphony of shouting and heavy footsteps erupted from the other side of the estate.
"My Lord! Lord Akira!"
A dozen armed retainers burst into the courtyard, paper lanterns swinging wildly in the dark. Their armor clattered, swords already half-drawn. They were elite northern warriors, hardened men with scars and terrifying scowls.
"We felt a massive surge of spiritual energy!" the captain yelled, stepping forward. His eyes darted around the garden, searching for assassins. "Is it an ambush? Did the Emperor's dogs send—"
The captain stopped dead.
The rest of the retainers froze, piling up behind him like a collapsed wall.
Twelve heavily armed men stared at the scene on the porch.
Their terrifying, ruthless master—the Demon Prince who hadn't smiled in a decade—was standing casually in the moonlight. And cowering against the paper doors, clutching the Lord's sacred, untouchable spirit-beast, was a tiny, gray-haired woman with eyes the size of dinner plates.
The silence that followed was so loud it hurt my ears.
"My Lord?" the captain whispered, sounding like he was losing his mind. "What... who is this?"
I squeezed my eyes shut. This is it. He's going to realize I'm just an intruder. He's going to tell them to cut me down.
"Put your weapons away, Captain," Akira commanded.
The softness was completely gone from his voice. The velvet had peeled back, leaving only the steel blade. The temperature in the courtyard seemed to drop ten degrees. This was the Demon Prince.
The retainers instantly slammed their swords back into their sheaths, standing at rigid attention.
"Forgive us, My Lord!" the captain barked, bowing at a perfect right angle. "We thought you were under attack!"
"There is no attack," Akira said coolly. He turned slightly, angling his broad shoulders to block me from their view. A purely protective stance. "There was merely a spiritual awakening. The Consort Rite has been fulfilled."
Several of the men violently choked on their own spit.
The captain's head snapped up, his jaw practically hitting the floor. "The... the Consort Rite? But... My Lord, the Imperial Court... the Emperor..."
"The Emperor's opinions do not concern me," Akira dismissed coldly.
He turned his back to his men and crouched down in front of me again. The terrifying aura vanished the second his amber eyes met my terrified purple ones.
"What is your name? Can you stand?" he asked, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur meant only for me.
"No, I can't stand. My name is Kitsune," I answered honestly. My legs felt like overcooked noodles.
A tiny, amused smile tugged at the corner of his lips. It made him look painfully handsome, which was incredibly distracting and entirely unfair given the circumstances.
"May I?" he asked, holding his hands out.
Consent. The terrifying warlord was asking for my consent to help me up.
I looked at the twelve armed men standing behind him. Men who hated thieves. Men who would chop me into sashimi if they found out I broke in here to mutilate their lord's beloved pet.
If I denied Akira now, if I admitted I was a fraud... I wouldn't leave this courtyard alive.
I'm so sorry, Rin. I'll get the fur later. Right now, your big sister needs to commit treason to survive.
I gave a tiny, jerky nod.
Akira didn't hesitate. He slid one strong arm around my waist and the other under my knees. With effortless grace, he lifted me—and the giant fluffy cat still death-gripping my robes—straight up into his arms.
I gasped, instinctively grabbing onto his broad shoulders. He smelled like sandalwood, sharp winter air, and dangerous magic.
"My Lord!" the captain sputtered, his eyes bulging as Akira carried me past them. "Where... what are your orders?"
"Double the guard around my private wing," Akira ordered without looking back. "No one enters. Send word to the Imperial Palace at first light. Tell the Emperor I will be attending tomorrow's court session."
Akira paused at the edge of the hallway, glancing down at me.
"And tell them I am bringing my bride."
Jingle. Yuki purred in my arms, rubbing its soft little head against Akira's chest. The two of them were completely, blissfully united in this delusion.
I let my head fall back against Akira's shoulder and stared blankly at the wooden ceiling as he carried me into the dark corridors of his estate.
I didn't get the cat fur.
I was trapped in a den of northern warriors.
Tomorrow, I was going to be presented to the Emperor of the realm as the wife of the most dangerous man alive.
I should have just learned how to brew normal medicine.