The master bedchamber of the East Palace was completely ridiculous.

In the North, our bedroom was massive but practical, filled with sturdy cedar wood, warm furs, and a glowing charcoal brazier.

Here, the room looked like a gold mine had exploded.

Thick, overly perfumed incense burned in the corners, making my nose itch. The futon was large enough to fit an entire squad of guards, draped in twelve layers of sheer, glittering silk. Every wall was covered in painted screens depicting soaring dragons and blooming lotuses.

And according to the terrifyingly quiet Warlord standing next to me, almost every single one of those lotuses was listening to us.

Akira and I stood in the exact center of the room. We hadn’t spoken a single word since the Imperial Chamberlain closed the doors.

Akira had his arms crossed over his heavy dark indigo robes. His amber eyes darted around the room, mapping out every shadow, every hidden corner. The tension rolling off his broad shoulders was so thick I could practically chew it.

I looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Well? Akira gave a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head. Not yet.

"Are you two just going to stand there communicating through intense eyebrow wiggles, or can I get to work?"

A small, fluffy head poked out from behind a golden silk curtain.

Yuki floated into the room. He had ditched his pristine light blue kimono for a simple white sleep robe, though he still hovered a few inches above the floor to avoid touching the tainted capital wood.

Akira let out a long breath through his nose. He pointed a single, commanding finger at the walls.

"I’m on it, I’m on it," Yuki grumbled, crossing his small arms. "You act like I am a common pest exterminator. I am a deity. People used to build shrines for me just to ask for good weather. Now I’m on bug duty." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

The twelve-year-old cat-boy floated over to the nearest painted screen. His turquoise eyes flared with that brilliant, ancient yokai light.

He leaned close to a painted lotus flower. He opened his mouth wide and snapped his teeth together.

CRUNCH.

The faint, sickly yellow glow hidden in the ink shattered like glass.

Yuki chewed, his face twisting into an expression of absolute misery. He swallowed hard and gagged.

"Ugh, stale cabbage!" Yuki complained loudly, wiping his tongue with his sleeve. "Why is it always stale cabbage? Do the Imperial Mages lack basic culinary imagination? If you are going to weave a high-level surveillance ward into a painting, at least flavor it with a hint of plum or ginger!"

I covered my mouth with both hands to muffle a laugh.

"Keep going," Akira commanded quietly, his eyes scanning the ceiling.

"Slave driver," Yuki muttered.

He floated around the perimeter of the massive bedroom. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. "Ooh, this one is different," Yuki paused near a golden lantern hanging by the bed. He took a bite of the air. He chewed thoughtfully, his white cat ears twitching. "Dusty paper. With a hint of... is that despair? Yes, definitely the despair of an underpaid scribe. Disgusting."

He floated over the giant futon, snapping his jaws at the silk canopy.

"Stale cabbage again," Yuki groaned, holding his stomach. "I am going to have spiritual indigestion. The things I do for this family. Honestly, I should be given a temple for my sacrifices."

"I will build you a temple the moment we return North," Akira promised, his voice completely deadpan. "Just clear the room, Yuki."

"Hold on, there’s one more," Yuki said, floating down to the polished wooden floorboards.

He squinted at a tiny, almost invisible crack between the wood. He leaned down, tapped the wood, and a tiny yellow spark flew up. Yuki caught it in his mouth like a frog catching a fly.

He swallowed it whole and burped a tiny puff of blue fire.

"Alright," Yuki sighed, patting his stomach. "The room is completely clean. The perimeter is secure. You may now plot your treason, complain about the Emperor, or do whatever it is married humans do when they think no one is watching."

"Thank you, Yuki," I said, dropping my hands from my face. I could finally speak at a normal volume. "Are you going to check Rin’s room?"

"I already ate the cabbage in her room," Yuki sniffed, adjusting his white robe. "The human sprout is fast asleep. She stole all the silk pillows and built a fortress. I left Yua outside her door. Now, I am going to find a dark corner that doesn’t smell like cheap incense and try to sleep."

The ancient spirit turned and floated toward the sliding doors.

"Yuki," Akira called out softly.

The boy paused, looking back over his shoulder.

"Good work," the Warlord said.

Yuki’s white ears perked up slightly, though he tried to hide it behind a grumpy scowl. "Obviously. I am amazing. Goodnight, Warlord. Goodnight, basement rat."

He slid the door open and slipped out, closing it firmly behind him.

The moment the door clicked shut, the heavy, suffocating weight of the capital seemed to vanish from the room. We were in a secure bubble. A dead zone for Imperial magic.

Akira didn’t say anything. His broad shoulders suddenly slumped. The terrifying, unyielding Warlord posture he had maintained since we crossed the city gates completely collapsed.

He looked exhausted.

I walked over to him, gently grabbing the edge of his heavy indigo outer robe.

"Take it off," I whispered.

He didn’t argue. He raised his arms, letting me untie the thick silk sash. I pulled the heavy outer layer off his shoulders, letting it fall onto a nearby wooden chest. I reached up, my calloused fingers working the clasps of his black iron breastplate.

Akira closed his eyes, tilting his head back slightly as I pulled the armor away.

Left in just his soft, white inner robes, he looked so much younger. So much more vulnerable.

"I hate this place," I admitted quietly, stepping close and resting my forehead against his chest.

Akira’s arms instantly wrapped around me. He pulled me flush against his body, burying his face in my hair. He held me so tightly I could feel the rapid, heavy thud of his heart against my cheek.

"Every time a noble looked at you today," Akira’s voice was a low, ragged rumble against my ear, "I had to remind myself not to burn the courtyard down."

"I saw," I murmured, wrapping my arms around his waist. "You were glowing a little bit."

"They looked at you like you were dirt, Kitsune." The raw anger in his voice broke my heart. He was so fiercely protective it physically hurt him to see me disrespected.

"Let them," I said softly, pulling back just enough to look up into his amber eyes. "Akira, I don’t care what they think. They don’t know me. They don’t know what I survived. And they definitely don’t know what we’re going to do to them."

I reached up, gently tracing the line of his jaw.

"They want us to crack," I told him, keeping my voice steady and completely certain. "The Emperor put us in this massive, gilded cage because he wants us to feel trapped. He wants you to lose your temper. He wants me to hide in a corner and cry."

Akira leaned into my touch, turning his head to press a warm kiss into my palm. "You will never hide again."

"Exactly," I smiled. "So we don’t crack. We smile. We eat their fancy food. We attend their banquets. We let Yuki eat their magical bugs. And we wait."

Akira stared at me in the dim, golden light of the lanterns. The exhaustion in his eyes slowly melted away, replaced by that overwhelming, quiet devotion.

"How did I find you?" he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I spent twenty years preparing for war, and my greatest weapon was hiding in the Bureau of Divination’s basement."

"Lucky for you, I know how to use a broom," I teased lightly, trying to ease the heavy tension in the room.

A soft, genuine chuckle vibrated in his chest. It was the best sound I had heard all day.

He suddenly swept me off my feet, lifting me into his arms effortlessly. I let out a surprised squeak, instinctively throwing my arms around his neck.

He carried me over to the ridiculously large futon and gently set me down in the center of the mountain of silk blankets. He climbed in right beside me, completely ignoring the elaborate pillows and simply pulling me against his side.

The bed was so soft I felt like I was sinking into a cloud, but the only thing that actually made me feel safe was the solid heat of his body pressed against mine.

Akira waved a hand, and a faint wisp of blue yokai fire shot across the room, snuffing out the golden lanterns.

The room plunged into darkness, lit only by the pale moonlight filtering through the paper screens.

He rested his chin on the top of my head, one of his heavy legs thrown over mine to keep me completely anchored to him. I closed my eyes, listening to the steady, rhythmic sound of his breathing.

We were in the belly of the beast. The Emperor was plotting against us. Second Prince Jin was probably pacing his room, furious that his assassins had failed. Tomorrow night was the Imperial Banquet, where we would have to face all of them in public.

But as Akira’s breathing deepened into sleep, and the warm, protective hum of the Consort Mark thrummed quietly in my chest, I wasn’t afraid.

Let the vipers whisper. They were about to find out exactly what happens when you corner a Warlord and a basement rat.