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

"You are dripping on the tatami mats."

Akira stopped in the middle of the ruined courtyard, looking down at his soaking wet ceremonial robes. He had literally just blasted an elite assassin over a roof, and my first instinct was to complain about the flooring.

"I will buy you a new floor," Akira rumbled, his chest still heaving. "I will buy you an entirely new palace. In a city that isn’t actively trying to set us on fire."

"Deal," I smiled.

I turned toward the main pavilion. "Yua! Rin! It’s clear!"

The heavy iron bolt of the pantry slid back with a loud clack. Rin peeked her head out first, still clutching her wooden rolling pin like a club. When she saw the glued and trapped assassins groaning in the courtyard, her eyes went wide.

"Whoa," Rin breathed. "You totally got them."

"We did," I said, walking over and taking the rolling pin from her. "You and Yua stay in the pantry. Lock the door again. Akira and I have to go talk to the Emperor about his terrible boat party."

"Is he going to be mad?" Yua asked nervously, looking at Akira’s terrifying, glowing blue aura.

"He is going to be dead," Akira corrected flatly.

"Akira," I scolded gently. "We talked about this. We are using words first."

"I will use my words," Akira said, his jaw locked. "To tell him I am going to kill him."

I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t argue. He had earned a little murder-rage today.

"Lock the door," I told Yua. "We won’t be long."

As the pantry door clicked shut, a very wet, very grumpy white cat dragged itself over the broken wooden wall of the courtyard.

Yuki didn’t shift into his boy form. He just stood there, his fluffy white fur completely plastered to his skinny body, looking like a drowned rat. He spat a mouthful of river water onto the gravel.

"I swallowed a minnow," Yuki complained telepathically, his voice echoing in my head with pure disgust. "A live minnow. It was deeply unspiritual. I demand a whole salmon as compensation."

"You were amazing," I promised, kneeling down to scratch behind his wet ears. "Did the boat sink?"

"Like a rock," Yuki purred, leaning into my hand. "The mages were so busy putting out your fire they didn’t even notice I unhooked the leylines. The Emperor had to be carried off his golden throne by his guards. He looked like he was going to throw up a lung."

"Where did they take him?" Akira demanded.

"Straight to the central keep," Yuki said. "He is panicking. He thinks the array backfired. The entire palace guard is running toward the lake, which means the central keep is completely wide open."

Akira looked at me. The blue fire flickered across his knuckles.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

I pulled my iron fan from my sash, giving it a quick twirl before gripping it tightly. "Let’s go fire an Emperor."

The capital was in absolute chaos.

As we walked through the winding, overgrown paths of the inner palace, we could hear the distant screaming and shouting from the Sacred Lake. Columns of thick black smoke were rising into the clear blue sky.

Because everyone was rushing to the river, the corridors leading to the Emperor’s private throne room were practically deserted.

The few Imperial Guards we did encounter took one look at the soaking wet Warlord radiating pure demonic fury and instantly decided they needed to be somewhere else. They dropped their spears and ran.

We reached the massive, carved cedar doors of the central keep.

Two high-ranking Imperial Mages were frantically trying to draw a yellow barrier seal on the wood.

"Too late," Akira growled.

He didn’t slow down. He didn’t even raise his hands. He just unleashed a shockwave of his Warlord aura.

The heavy cedar doors literally blew off their iron hinges. They splintered into a hundred pieces, exploding inward with a deafening CRASH. The two mages were thrown backward into the hall, knocked completely unconscious.

I stepped through the ruined doorway right behind my husband, dusting a wood shaving off my shoulder.

The throne room was a mess.

Emperor Shirakawa was not sitting gracefully on his golden chair. He was slumped over a low table, violently coughing dark, sickly blood into a white towel. Half a dozen panicked doctors and mages were hovering around him, holding glowing healing stones that were doing absolutely nothing.

The Emperor looked up as we stepped into the room.

His eyes were completely sunken. His skin was the color of old ash. The Spiritual Rot wasn’t hiding anymore. It was eating him alive right in front of us.

"You," the Emperor choked out, dropping the bloody towel. He pointed a trembling, frail finger at Akira. "You sabotaged the sacred ritual!"

"I went for a swim," Akira replied, his voice a low, lethal rumble that echoed off the high ceilings. "You should fix your boats, Uncle. They seem to catch fire very easily."

"Guards!" the Emperor shrieked, his voice cracking wildly. "Kill him! Kill the Warlord!"

The remaining mages in the room hesitated. They looked at the Emperor, and then they looked at Akira, who was currently surrounded by a swirling vortex of freezing blue fire. It wasn’t exactly a hard math problem.

None of them moved.

"You are done, Uncle," Akira said, taking a slow, heavy step forward. "Your extraction array is at the bottom of the lake. Your elite assassins are glued to my courtyard. And your core is completely shattered."

"I am the Son of Heaven!" the Emperor roared, trying to stand up, but his legs completely gave out. He collapsed back onto the floor, clutching his chest in agony. "You cannot touch me! The leylines..."

"The leylines hate you," Yuki announced.

The cat-boy materialized from the shadows, stepping right up to the Emperor. He had finally dried off, and his fluffy white ears were pinned back in pure disdain.

"You taste like rotting garbage," Yuki told the most powerful man in the Empire. "I wouldn’t let you draw a single drop of magic from this city even if you begged."

The Emperor stared at the twelve-year-old boy in sheer horror, finally realizing exactly what kind of entity he was dealing with. "A divine spirit... you allied with a nature god?"

"He didn’t ally with me," Yuki scoffed. "He married the girl who feeds me. There is a very distinct difference."

I stepped around Akira, walking right up to the middle of the room. I reached into my tunic and pulled out the thick black medical scrolls I had stolen from the Imperial Archives days ago.

I tossed them onto the floorboards right in front of the panicked doctors.

"We know everything," I said, keeping my voice completely calm and level. "We know about the Rot. We know you brought Akira here to drain him like a battery. And we know you sent the assassins to the Ancestral Shrine to sever the soul-tether."

The Emperor gasped, clutching his chest, his eyes darting wildly around the room.

"It’s over," I told him. "You don’t have the magic. You don’t have the muscle. And in about ten minutes, when the rest of the court realizes you completely faked a boat fire to cover up your dying organs, you won’t have the throne, either."

"You... you filthy little rat," the Emperor hissed, spitting blood onto his own chin. "You ruined everything. I should have had you executed the moment you stepped foot in my city!"

"You tried," I smiled sweetly. "I hit your guys with a frying pan."

Akira finally stepped up beside me. He didn’t draw his katana. He didn’t need to. The sheer, overwhelming presence of the Warlord was enough to suffocate everyone in the room.

"I am leaving this cursed city," Akira declared, his voice ringing with absolute finality. "I formally reject the title of Crown Prince. I return the succession to the previous heir."

The Emperor froze.

"Ryu?" the Emperor choked, pure disbelief washing over his rotting face. "You are handing the Empire back to that weakling?"

"I am handing it to his mother," Akira corrected coldly. "She actually knows how to survive."

Right on cue, the paper screens at the back of the throne room slid open.

Lady Renge stepped into the room.

She wasn’t weeping. She wasn’t playing the victim. She wore completely immaculate, heavy black silk robes, and she walked with the posture of an Empress. Four high-ranking generals of the Imperial Army walked right behind her, their hands resting on their sword hilts.

"Your Majesty," Lady Renge said smoothly, her eyes locking onto the dying Emperor. "It seems your health has taken a sudden, tragic turn for the worse."

The Emperor stared at her, realizing exactly how thoroughly he had been outplayed.

"You," the Emperor wheezed, his hands shaking. "You betrayed me, Renge. You allied with the demon."

"I allied with the winning side," Renge corrected softly. She looked at me, a tiny, almost imperceptible nod of respect passing between us. Then, she looked back at the Emperor.

"The Warlord has formally abdicated," Renge announced to the room, her voice carrying absolute authority. "The throne falls to Prince Ryu. Guards, escort the former Emperor to his sickbed. He is clearly not in his right mind."

The Emperor tried to scream, but only a wet, rattling cough came out. The doctors rushed forward, hauling the rotting king to his feet and dragging him out of his own throne room.

He didn’t go out with a massive magical battle. He didn’t go out with dignity. He just faded away, a weak, desperate man who had played his final card and lost.

The massive throne room fell silent.

Renge looked at Akira. "The deal is complete. You have your freedom. The North is yours. Take your feral bride and leave my city."

"Gladly," Akira rumbled.

He turned to me, the heavy, suffocating tension finally breaking from his shoulders. He reached out, his hand gently cupping my cheek.

"Let’s go home," he whispered.

"Yes, please," I sighed, leaning into his warm touch. "I’ve had enough capital drama to last a lifetime."