I Stole the Villain's Cat, and Now He Thinks I'm His Wife

Packing up the estate of a terrifying warlord under an imperial order of banishment was exactly as chaotic as it sounded.

"Do we have the medicine?" I called over the noise of heavily armored northern guards hurrying past me through the corridor.

"Packed in the third chest, My Lady!" the silver-haired healer called back, deftly knotting a silk bundle of herbs.

"Do we have extra blankets for Rin?"

"Loaded in the carriage, Lady Kitsune!" the Captain barked, lifting a massive wooden trunk over his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

"Do we have the cat?"

I looked around wildly.

Jingle.

I looked up. Yuki was perched in perfect balance atop a sliding shoji screen, his pure white fur nearly vanishing against the paper. He gazed down at the frantic humans below with an expression of profound, ancient disapproval.

"Get down from there," I said, pointing at him. "We are fleeing the capital. At least pretend to be an accomplice."

Yuki yawned, flashing sharp little teeth, then drifted down with infuriating grace to land squarely on my shoulders. I staggered a little beneath the weight of the fat nekomata, but I did not shove him off.

We were officially a team now. A strange, magically bound, faintly treasonous team.

I stepped out into the main courtyard. The sun was sinking beneath the horizon, staining the sky with fierce streaks of orange and violet. The spectral-wolf carriage stood waiting, the two massive black yokai-beasts stamping their paws with growing impatience.

Rin was already inside, buried beneath a mountain of furs, looking like a tiny, sleepy dumpling.

And standing beside the carriage door, arguing with the Captain, was my husband.

Akira was dressed once more in his heavy black-and-indigo armor. His long pink hair had been tied into a severe topknot. He stood straight and tall, radiating absolute authority.

But my new spirit-tether told an entirely different tale.

Through the glowing pine-and-fire crest on my chest, I could feel his energy. It was ragged. Thinned out. The divine fire from the shrine had badly drained his yokai core. He was moving on nothing but stubbornness and warlord pride.

"I will ride my horse beside the vanguard," Akira was saying to the Captain, his deep voice allowing no argument. "We must cross the mountain pass before the snows descend."

"You will absolutely do no such thing," I cut in, marching straight up to him.

The Captain stepped back at once, looking intensely relieved that I had taken command. He bowed quickly and disappeared to inspect the horses.

Akira looked down at me, his sharp amber eyes softening immediately. "Kitsune. The carriage will be crowded with Rin and the luggage. I must secure the perimeter. The Emperor’s assassins may follow."

"The Emperor’s assassins would take one look at your elite shadow-guard and run weeping back to the palace," I said, folding my arms. "And you are not riding a horse. You were literally cooked in a holy oven five hours ago."

"I recover quickly," Akira replied smoothly, though his jaw was set.

"You look like burnt toast," Rin’s small, muffled voice floated from the open carriage door.

Akira blinked. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to stop a laugh.

"She has a point," I said, gesturing toward his face. He was still far too pale, with dark shadows beneath his eyes. "You are getting in the carriage, Akira. Otherwise I am not going."

He looked at me in silence. The fearsome Lord of the North, the man who could make rebel armies surrender at a glance, was currently being bullied by a nineteen-year-old girl and a nine-year-old child.

At last he let out a long, weighted sigh. "You are relentless."

"I’m a wife," I corrected, a sudden wave of warmth rising into my cheeks as I said it aloud. I cleared my throat. "I mean... I am your wife. It is my duty to be annoying when you are being foolish."

A devastatingly tender smile appeared on his tired face.

"Very well, wife," he murmured, his voice dropping into that husky register that made my toes curl. He offered me his hand. "Lead the way."

The carriage ride became an exercise in brutal self-restraint.

Because the wolves were enormous, the inside of the carriage was actually quite spacious. But it did not feel spacious. It felt incredibly, overwhelmingly full of him.

Rin was asleep on the bench across from us, Yuki curled securely on her chest, his twin tails wrapped around her for warmth.

Which left me and Akira seated side by side on the velvet cushions.

He sat rigidly upright, broad shoulders squared, pretending his internal organs were not presently trying to knit themselves back together.

I watched him from the corner of my eye. Every time the carriage struck a rut in the road, a tiny, nearly invisible flinch tightened the corners of his mouth.

"Stop that," I whispered.

He turned to me, his amber eyes guarded. "Stop what?"

"Stop acting as if you are still on a battlefield." I shifted on the cushion, turning fully toward him. "The Emperor is hundreds of miles away by now. Jin is probably still sobbing into the koi pond. We are safe."

"A Lord of the North is never entirely removed from the battlefield," he said, though the usual steel was missing from his voice.

I rolled my eyes. Reaching over, I caught the heavy iron clasp of his dark indigo cape and unhooked it.

Akira went perfectly still. "Kitsune?"

"You’re too stiff," I said, pushing at his broad shoulders until he had no choice but to lean back against the velvet wall of the carriage. "Take off the armor plate. It is digging into your burns."

He hesitated. For one brief moment, I thought the Demon Prince might pull rank and refuse. But then, with a heavy breath, his large hands moved to the buckles of his breastplate.

He unfastened the iron and let it rest on the floor. Beneath it, his dark indigo robes lay loose, exposing the corded muscles of his chest and the faint angry marks where the holy fire had seared him.

"Better?" I asked quietly.

"Marginally," he admitted, his eyes already heavy with fatigue.

I patted the space on the cushion beside my leg. "Lie down."

His eyes widened instantly. "Excuse me?"

"You’re exhausted," I said, stating the obvious and ignoring the frantic pounding of my own heart. "You cannot sleep sitting upright like a bamboo stalk. Lie down. Rest your head on my lap."

A faint dusty pink rose up the back of Akira’s neck. The terrifying warlord was blushing.

"That is... deeply improper," he murmured, looking anywhere but at me. "You are a noble lady now. I should not use you as a pillow."

"I was a floor-scrubber yesterday," I reminded him dryly. "And you carried me out of a fire today. I think we are well past ’proper,’ Akira. Just lie down before you faint and crush me."

He studied me for a long, quiet moment. The vulnerability in his gaze was almost unbearable. He had never been permitted weakness before anyone. To the North, he was a weapon. To the capital, he was a monster.

Slowly, carefully, the Demon Prince lowered himself.

He stretched his long legs across the bench and rested his head lightly on my lap. He was so large, and the carriage just cramped enough, that he had to bend his knees a little to fit.

A rough, shuddering breath left him the moment his head touched my thighs. All the tension ran out of his massive frame.

I reached out with care. My fingers slipped through his long, silken pink hair. He smelled of sandalwood, ozone, and cold winter air.

Akira’s eyes fluttered shut. He leaned into the touch, nearly melting beneath my hand.

"Thank you," he whispered, his voice thick and low.

"Go to sleep, Akira," I murmured, still stroking his hair. "I’ve got you."

He was asleep in less than three minutes.

We traveled through the night, the spectral-wolves devouring the miles at impossible speed. By the time the sun began to rise, the air beyond the carriage had turned sharp and bitter with cold.

We had crossed the border. We were in the Northern Marches.

The carriage slowed, the heavy wooden wheels crunching over a thick blanket of fresh snow.

"My Lord! Lady Kitsune!" the Captain called from outside, knocking gently on the door. "We have reached the border waystation."

Akira stirred in my lap. His amber eyes blinked open, instantly sharp and alert, then softened when he looked up at me. He sat up quickly, cleared his throat, and adjusted his robes.

"I beg your pardon," he said, his voice husky with sleep. "I did not intend to rest so heavily upon you."

"My legs only went numb twice. It is fine," I said with a smile, stretching my cramped calves.

I wrapped a thick fur blanket snugly around Rin, who was still sleeping peacefully, and gathered her into my arms. Akira opened the carriage door, stepped out into the freezing northern air, then turned and helped me descend.

The waystation was a large, sturdy wooden inn built to shelter northern troops and traveling lords. Its roof was already buried beneath thick white snow.

The innkeeper, a stout man with a heavy beard, was bowing so low his forehead nearly touched the frozen mud.

"Lord Kurogane! A thousand welcomes!" the innkeeper cried. "We received the Captain’s spirit-messenger bird an hour ago! But My Lord... I beg forgiveness!"

Akira’s eyes narrowed slightly. "Speak, innkeeper. What is wrong?"

"The blizzard, My Lord!" the man said, wringing his hands. "It rolled in unnaturally fast from the jagged peaks! The cold struck so suddenly that our main heating vents cracked. Only the master suite still has a working hearth and enough braziers to keep the frost away!"

The Captain stepped forward, grim-faced. "It is true, My Lord. The men are already crowding into the main hall for warmth. But for you, Lady Kitsune, and the sick child... there is only one heated room available."

I blinked.

One room. One heated room in the middle of a northern blizzard.

I looked at Akira. He looked at me.

"Prepare the suite," Akira told the innkeeper, his voice perfectly even, though I noticed the tips of his ears had gone red.

Then he turned to me and gave a painfully formal bow. "It appears we will be sharing close quarters tonight, wife."

"Right," I squeaked, clutching Rin tighter. "Just... shared body heat. Very practical. Entirely for survival."

Jingle.

Yuki trotted past us, twin tails swishing with delight as he headed straight for the inn. The cat looked absurdly pleased.

I was almost certain the fluffy menace controlled the weather.