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

"Wife."

The word lingered in the cool autumn air...heavy, bewildering, and utterly impossible.

My thoughts blanked completely. I could only stare at the Demon Prince kneeling before me, his pink hair catching the moonlight, his amber eyes fixed on me with a reverence that felt far too intense.

Wife?

"I..." My voice faltered. I cleared my throat, forcing myself to sound composed rather than utterly undone. "I believe there has been some grave misunderstanding, my lord."

"There is no misunderstanding." Akira’s voice was low, steady. He made no move to seize me, yet his gaze held me just as firmly in place. "You bear the crest. The Rite of Shared Spirit."

"The... Rite?" I echoed faintly.

I looked down at the heavy bundle of white fur in my arms. Yuki, the ancient nekomata, gazed back at me with bright turquoise eyes.

Jingle. The cat let out a soft, pitiful sound and pressed its head beneath my chin, as though seeking comfort.

Deceiver, I thought in disbelief. You leapt at me without hesitation.

"He chose you," Akira murmured. There was something like awe in his voice, and it did unsettling things to my pulse. "Yuki has rejected every onmyoji, every noble, every spirit-tamer who has approached him for fifteen years. Yet he bound himself to you. He has recognized you as my fated consort."

"No—no, that is not what happened!" I scrambled backward until my back met the shoji screen. I held the cat out toward him as though it were something dangerous. "Please, take him back. He merely... leapt. It was an accident. I am no one’s consort."

Akira did not take the cat. His gaze shifted instead to my trembling hands, softening into something disarmingly gentle. It did not belong on the face of a man whispered about in fear across the empire.

"You are frightened," he said quietly.

"Yes. Very much so," I admitted at once. "I should not even be here. I am only a minor official of the Bureau of Divination. I catalogue star-charts. I am wholly unfit for... for this."

Akira rose to his feet, his height suddenly overwhelming. The dark indigo of his hakama shifted softly as he moved.

"The will of the ancients does not heed rank," he said, his voice carrying quiet authority. "The rite is complete. The spirits guided you to my courtyard beneath the Tsukimi moon. You are now under my protection."

The spirits did not guide me here. Desperation did.

The words pressed against my throat, begging to be spoken. I am a thief. I came to steal from you.

But before I could force them out...

"My Lord! Lord Akira!"

A sudden clamor of voices and hurried footsteps broke through the courtyard.

A dozen armed retainers rushed in, lanterns swinging, armor clattering, hands already near their swords. Hardened men...scarred, disciplined, and dangerous.

"We sensed a surge of spiritual power!" the captain called out sharply, scanning the area. "Is this an attack? Has the Court sent—"

He stopped.

The rest followed, their momentum halting as they took in the scene before them.

Twelve warriors stared at the porch in stunned silence.

Their lord, the feared Demon Prince, stood beneath the moon, composed as ever. And before him, pressed against the doors, clutching his sacred spirit-beast, was a small, disheveled woman who clearly did not belong.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating.

"My Lord...?" the captain asked carefully. "Who is this?"

My eyes shut tightly. This is the end. He will see through me now.

"Stand down, Captain," Akira said.

The warmth vanished from his voice at once. Only cold authority remained. The air itself seemed to sharpen.

The retainers immediately returned their swords to their sheaths and straightened.

"Our apologies, my lord!" the captain said, bowing deeply. "We believed you were under threat."

"There is no threat," Akira replied coolly. He shifted slightly, placing himself between me and their view. A quiet, deliberate act of protection. "There has only been a spiritual awakening. The Consort Rite has been fulfilled."

Several men nearly choked where they stood.

The captain lifted his head in shock. "The... Consort Rite? But—my lord—the Imperial Court, the Emperor—"

"The Emperor’s concerns are not mine," Akira said evenly.

Then he turned back to me, and the harsh edge of his presence faded as though it had never been.

"What is your name? Can you stand?" he asked softly.

"Kitsune," I answered, my voice small despite myself. "And... no. I cannot."

My legs felt entirely unreliable.

A faint smile touched his lips, it was brief, but enough to soften his features in a way that felt dangerously distracting.

"May I?" he asked, extending his hands.

He was asking permission.

I glanced past him at the armed men standing nearby men who would not hesitate if they knew the truth.

If I refused... if I spoke honestly now...

I would not survive this courtyard.

Forgive me, Rin. I will find another way later. For now, I must live.

I gave a small, reluctant nod.

Akira moved without hesitation. One arm slipped securely around my waist, the other beneath my knees. In one smooth motion, he lifted me and the cat, into his arms.

I gasped, instinctively clutching at his shoulders. He smelled faintly of sandalwood and cold air, with something deeper beneath it—something dangerous.

"My lord!" the captain exclaimed, clearly shaken. "What are your orders?"

"Increase the guard around my private wing," Akira said calmly, not breaking stride. "No one is to enter. Send word to the Palace at first light. Inform the Emperor that I will attend court tomorrow."

He paused briefly at the corridor entrance, glancing down at me.

"And inform them," he added, his voice steady, "that I will not come alone."

Jingle. Yuki purred contentedly, pressing its head against his chest.

The two of them seemed entirely united in this absurd conclusion.

I let my head rest back against his shoulder, staring blankly at the wooden ceiling as he carried me into the dim corridors of his estate.

I had not secured the cat’s fur.

I was now within the stronghold of the Northern Lord.

And tomorrow, I would be presented before the Emperor... as the wife of the most dangerous man in the empire.

...

Perhaps I should have learned to make ordinary medicine instead.