Ren’s words dropped like boulders into the hot spring. Not a single ripple ruffled Ren’s expression, while a tsunami swept Kuro away.

When the last wave roared out and the surviving thoughts straggled out from cover, Kuro repeated, “The Capital? After dark?”

Ren nodded. “Tonight.”

Kuro shouldn’t have asked.

He stood, water cascading off him. He climbed out of the bath and found the cotton yukata Ren had given him for after the bath. He tied the sash around his waist and strode out of the bathhouse, not bothering to wrangle the sandals. Water splashed and wet feet struck the tiles as Ren hurried after him.

Kuro hurried back down the stone path to the Sun Prince’s building, taking a left.

“The other way,” Ren called.

He stomped faster.

“The bedchamber is the other way.”

Kuro bared his teeth, but spun on his heels and followed Ren around the other side of the building. Kuro should be pleased with himself, not — not this frustration. He’d been trying all evening to push Ren to show his true fangs and he’d succeeded. Ren had decided to discard him to his Night Parade. Their confessions in the hot spring were only Shogi pieces sacrificed to lure Kuro in.

But Kuro refused to play his game. Without bothering to drop to his knees first, he yanked open the sliding door and crossed the room to the closet. He slid open the padded door, yanked out a pile of futon and dropped it next to the pile of blankets.

“You don’t need to do that,” Ren said.

Kuro bent down to unroll the futon. “How else are you going to sleep? Lie on the tatami mats? Even you’re more prince than that.”

Ren narrowed his eyes. “You’re taking me to see the city.”

“You must be very tired.” Kuro yanked the blankets into place. “Lie down.”

He crossed his arms. “You asked me why I brought you here.”

“You brought me here because you’re a spoiled brat who’s bored.”

Ren flinched back.

“And because you’re insane,” Kuro said. “I think the real reason the Shogun hasn’t held your enthronement ceremony is because you’re stark raving mad.”

He seethed, shoulders rising up with his quickening breath. “Don’t you dare.”

“Because you’d have to be insane to want to walk in the Capital at night.” Unless he really was with the Night Parade, and they guaranteed his safety. All the more reason for Kuro to dig in his heels.

“It’s my city,” he said.

Kuro twisted his head away. “Not at night.”

“I need to see it.”

“You need to sleep.” Kuro pointed at the white linens. “Lie down.”

“I don’t want to,” he said.

“Yes, you made it abundantly clear you’d rather be eaten by a demon. You know, most humans pay to be kept safe behind gates at night.”

“The Eastern and Western Barriers keep the demons out,” he said.

“The barriers weaken at night.” Hadn’t Kuro already lectured him on this? “The samurai guard against the most powerful demons, but any number of weak demons sneak across. Some neutral spirits wouldn’t mind eating a foolish human. Or a ghost who wants to wreak her revenge on you.”

“You’ll protect me.”

Kuro’s jaw dropped so far that his tongue lagged out. Ren watched him with the same air of confidence as he’d used to speak with the onmyouji. As if just because he said it, it would become fact.

“I’d be safer in the streets with a soon-to-be god than even stuck behind these walls.” How could Ren sputter such nonsense with a straight face?

Kuro snapped his jaw up. “O-of course you would.” He wouldn’t be. Kuro preferred to sniff out a den under an Undesirable shack to spend the dark hours. “But what makes you so sure I’d care to protect you?”

Damn that smile of his. “You have before.”

“You didn’t even consider that perhaps I’m tired.” Kuro pretended a yawn. “I’ll just head to the servant’s room—”

“You’re sleeping here.” But Ren didn’t cross the room to pull down a second futon. Oh no, Ren couldn’t be so dull as to actually prefer staying inside his palace on his thick, comfortable and warm futons.

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“Yes, right now.” Kuro pointed to the futon again, as if the gesture might prove a spell.

“It’s barely after the twelfth bell.”

“Fine,” he said. “Then I’ll keep guessing who this mysterious love interest is.”

Ren raised his hands in a placating matter. “No, no, no need for that.”

“Then sleep.”

Tilting his head, he stared down at the futon. “I can’t sleep. Something is in my city, stealing people from their homes.”

Kuro blinked. He actually had a reason beyond a death wish? “That’s what samurai are for.”

“Is it? A certain fox told me today that the samurai pretend these people don’t even exist, that they’re not humans who bleed red like they do.”

“Oi…” The dowager empress would have Kuro skinned for a fox shawl for this. “You don’t mean to concern yourself with the Undesirables, do you?”

“Your friend—”

“He’s not my friend.”

“—warned us they disappeared in droves, when no one dares to leave the city. They lack the gates that protect the townspeople. Anything could be eating them.”

“Yes, exactly, anything could be. Just like anything would gobble you up.”

“I have to stop it,” he said.

“You’re a prince. You have to stay behind your fortress walls and smile at bamboo curtains.” Kuro rubbed the furrow between his brows. He dropped to sit cross-legged next to the futon. “The Night Parade would salivate over the chance to eat the Sun Prince.”

He glared at Ren, daring him to reveal that the Night Parade wouldn’t be so interested after all.

But Ren stared back evenly. “Which is all the more reason to face them.”

“What do you really want?” Kuro snapped. “To meet the Night Parade?”

“Of course,” Ren said.

Kuro’s chest heaved. “What?”

“I know it’s dangerous,” Ren said, “But hunting them is the only way to stop them.”

Kuro blinked. Hunt the Night Parade? “But Undesirables aren’t real people!”

Ren slid back, eyes narrowing. “Like kitsune aren’t people?”

They weren’t, not to samurai, not to the Sun Prince. Kuro hugged his arms close.

Ren crossed his arms. “I might be persuaded to tell the cooks to make inari-zushi.”

Kuro hissed in a breath, already salivating. He shook his head. “You can’t bribe me. Good little humans stay indoors during the night hours. For good reason.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“And don’t assume I’ll protect…” Kuro trailed off, Ren’s words catching up to him. “Exactly.”

“I’ll ask the cooks to make inari-zushi anyway.”

Kuro peered at him. His face was arranged in the same stubborn look, and he didn’t look quite at Kuro. Something was up with him. “Good.”

“I am a bit tired,” Ren continued. “But first, I thought I’d read a poem to you.”

His head fell. Of course it wouldn’t be so easy.

“I left my book in the room down the hall,” he said. “Would you mind fetching it for me?” He yawned, covering his gaping mouth with a hand.

“Fine.” Kuro rose to his feet and clomped to the open door into the next room.

Poetry. Ren wanted to recite poetry to him, like he wasn’t some fox urchin he picked up off the street. As if he expected Kuro to know the difference between haiku and… and… He couldn’t even think of another form of poetry. Maybe rakugo? Not a poem, but kind of like it, but far more hilarious.

This must be Ren’s idea of punishment for refusing to accompany him. If so, Kuro would rather sulk through a dozen poems than head out onto the streets. They weren’t safe.

Shadows clung to the panels as thick as spider’s gossamer. Listening for the tread of human feet, he heard nothing but silence, and after snapping a leaf off a flower arrangement and pressing it to his forehead, shifted his eyes from their human disguise to his real eyes, glowing gold in the darkness.

The corridor brightened, but the shadows darkened. He scrunched his nose and covered it with the corner of his sleeve for good measure. The shadows stunk like the corpses of Undesirables washed onto the shore.

As he walked through room by room, he found no relief from the shadows. They saturated every space, screaming their warning.

What they warned him about remained murky. This kind of shadow gathered in places soaked in strong emotions, when humans died cursing their upstart enemies. Kuro grimaced. Exactly as the last emperor, Ren’s father, must have cursed the Shogun three years before.

Or they gathered in the presence of demons, feeding on their poisonous miasmas or the suffering of their victims. The shadow would hide the evil stench of demons. He flicked his ears, but only caught the groan of tatami under his feet, and Ren shuffling around his room.

If Ren insisted he wanted to save the Undesirables, Kuro could redirect him to the shadows. Ren couldn’t see them and probably knew as much about them as he did surviving. Kuro could drag out the mystery for weeks or months or possibly even years—

Kuro stopped. Years? Ren didn’t have years. Or months. Or weeks. The Shogun had sent Kuro there to kill him. He pressed his lips together, and squeezed his lips shut.

No use thinking on it now. He forced it to the edge of the mind. This was a tomorrow problem. Possibly a next week problem.

He reached the last room, the banquet hall. His hand fell on the sliding screen.

Could he do it? Could he really kill Ren for a human’s empty promise?

He shook the question out of his head and slid open the door to the banquet hall bare of even the trays.

Kuro narrowed his eyes. “There’s no book here.”

Had Ren forgotten, in this endless palace, where he’d left it?

Ren had given in too easily.

“Idiot.” Kuro raced back through the rooms. “Idiot human!”

The futon was still laid out in the centre, but instead of a stubborn human, only a folded paper lay on the buckwheat pillow. Kuro yanked the ends of his hair. The Imperial Sword was missing from the alcove.

The Sun Prince had snuck out after sending Kuro on a goose chase for an imaginary book.

Kuro dropped into a cross-legged position, bracing himself with his hands on his knees. This was one way to solve his tomorrow problem. Ren would wander the streets until some ghost or demon thought him a tasty treat, and then the prince would never be seen again. Kuro wouldn’t have to kill anyone.

He picked up the folded paper. Ren had scribbled across it, but Kuro could guess the message. The idiot expected Kuro to rush after him.

He folded his arms. Well, he wasn’t going to. Kuro had told him over and over what an insane idea that was, so if Ren wished to kill himself, Kuro wasn’t going to interfere.

Except… The lump returned to his stomach. Except then Ren would be gone. Cut off far before even his short human life span allowed.

Unless Ren was involved with the Night Parade, and he used the Undesirables as an excuse to meet with them.

“I don’t care about humans,” he reminded himself. “Why should I?”

“Ren?” a voice like irises wrapped around steel sliced through from the corridor.

Kuro clapped his hands over his mouth.

The dowager empress approached.

He hadn’t bothered to transform back. She’d skin him with one of the many antique knives the Imperial Palace was sure to have. His skin twitched. Did they skin foxes alive?

The panel jostled. “Ren?”

Demons or the dowager empress? Kuro had never faced an easier decision. He dashed for the veranda.