Ren. Kuro opened his jaw to speak, but he cupped his hands over his mouth just in time.

The smiling man on the dais wasn’t Ren. He was His Imperial Highness Tendo-no-Renjiro. That was the name he’d stumbled over, back in the merchant’s garden.

To call the Sun Prince by a familiar name meant death.

“Kuro?” Ren — the Sun Prince tilted his head. “Are you all right? They didn’t hurt you, did they? I sent a message to Uncle Gorou as soon as I could, but—”

Uncle Gorou. He called the Shogun by a nickname. No houseboy did that, not even in palaces.

“I sent instructions for them not to hurt you while I met with Uncle Gorou. I didn’t think he’d agree. He was so stern, lecturing me on how foxes weren’t pets and if I was that bored, he might see if he could find me a puppy to raise—”

Kuro jerked straight at the mention of a dog.

“I didn’t agree,” Ren said. “I didn’t think you’d be comfortable. I kept insisting that I needed a companion.”

“A companion.” Was companion supposed to mean ‘pet’?

“Are you that surprised?”

He’d thought Ren had abandoned him when the samurai surrounded Kuro. He’d thought Ren wouldn’t care enough about a spirit to intervene like he had on the human girl’s behalf.

But Ren must have left to save him. To argue with the Shogun, according to the onmyouji. Why?

To keep himself from flapping his lips like a koi fish, Kuro said, “All the clues were there. A houseboy doesn’t have such soft hands. And that sword.” He stared at the mats. “I tried to toss away the Imperial Sword of Oyashima.”

“The Kusanagi,” Ren corrected.

The Imperial Sword, one of the three symbols of the emperor’s divine right to rule. For a thousand years, the sword had decided who would rule over the empire.

And Kuro had dropped it. He’d thought Ren had stolen it, and the eccentric sword had decided to make Ren its master, but Ren was its master. By blood.

Worse, that was the least of his offences. Kuro had humiliated the Sun Prince. He’d ordered him around, insulted both Ren as a person and as the Sun Prince. Kuro had touched him.

The boy-samurai had sent his retainers to murder Kuro for the crime of bumping into him. What Kuro had done to Ren was so much worse.

Well, at least Kuro wouldn’t have to tiptoe around, jumping at the prince’s every twitch, waiting to mess up enough for a punishment. So where were the Sun Prince’s demons? Hiding in the gardens?

Ren — His Imperial Highness — just sat cross-legged on his dais. Kuro stared at him, ears perking every time Ren rubbed his hands down his hakama trousers.

“I didn’t mean…” Kuro fell silent, since anything that followed would be a lie. He’d meant every insult. If he’d known the Sun Prince commanded the Night Parade… Kuro would have still insulted Ren. There was no winning.

The Sun Prince flexed his fingers, curling and uncurling them in the silk. What was he waiting for? The back of Kuro’s neck prickled, but it was only a phantom sensation. Even Kuro’s dull human ears didn’t pick up anyone else in this part of the palace.

“I—” Kuro started to bow.

Ren jumped up and stopped Kuro’s descent with two fingers on his forehead. “Don’t do that.”

“Isn’t that why you brought me here?” he asked. “To watch me grovel and beg forgiveness?” The words came out more bitter than appropriate. Kuro couldn’t stop being insulting, even with his neck on the line.

“We should go.” The Sun Prince hopped off the dais to the sliding doors.

Go? Go where? “I like it here.”

Ren raised a brow, crossing his hands in front of him so the hems of his sleeves matched.

Kuro slapped his hands over his mouth before he guffawed. He’d rather cut off a finger than chance having to explain that the Sun Prince had adopted the same posture as the old woman on the screen.

“I’m not really supposed to be here.” Ren stared up at the ceiling.

“In your palace?”

“So just come with me,” he said, ignoring Kuro’s question.

Kuro backed as far away from the sliding door as possible while keeping the audience halls within dashing distance. “Why? Why did you bring me here?”

He half-expected Ren to reply honestly. To make Kuro pay. Ren was honest that way. But he said, “I told you.”

Their conversation so far made as much sense as a koan. Ren had said something about companions. “But what does that mean?”

Ren shifted as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’ll all become clear.”

“What become clear?” That Ren meant to keep a stick in his hand and Kuro collared at his feet?

“Just…” He tapped his heel on the ground. “Come, we should go.”

Again, to this mysterious place Ren didn’t want to explain. “Where’s the kitchen?”

“Are you hungry? I’ll have them—”

“No, I can go.” He winced as he realised he was doing it again. Interrupting. Treating Ren as less than his superior. “Forgive me. I mean, I can go to the kitchens myself, and they’ll show me my duties.”

Ren jerked his head, brow furrowing. “Duties? In the kitchen?”

“Yes.” Whatever companion meant, the servants would be able to teach him. Even if they didn’t, he’d learn by watching the servants, how they acted, how they talked. How they didn’t constantly interrupt the Sun Prince. Then perhaps he could convince Ren he was too valuable to torture.

“The lord onmyouji brought you here to be my companion,” Ren said. “That means you don’t go to the servants.”

Did that mean he wasn’t a servant? Or only that he was supposed to stay by Ren’s side?

“So come with me,” Ren said. “Please.”

“I can’t.” His feet wouldn’t move, even if Ren threatened to kill him there and then for disobeying. Better than following him into an even more private nook.

Ren looked away. He pinched his lips tight, swallowing so hard his throat Buddha bobbed. “Why not?”

“You’ll hurt me.”

Kuro snapped his lips shut. Ren knew and Kuro knew it, so why did he have to say it out loud? Why did he keep blurting things out when he knew Ren, like anyone else, would only use it to hurt and humiliate him?

Ren snapped his eyes up, his mouth opening in a circle. Was he really so surprised that Kuro knew what he was up to? Subtlety and cunning weren’t his strengths.

The Sun Prince crossed the chamber. He really was going to hurt Kuro for not obeying. Kuro tensed, readying himself to run for the audience halls.

Ren stopped a pace away from Kuro and reached out. Kuro flinched, but the hand that touched Kuro didn’t hurt. Ren wrapped his hand around Kuro’s and smiled. Smiled. Not an I’m-going-to-enjoy-your-screams sort of smile, or this-is-what-you-get kind either. But a real smile, his thumb rubbing the back of Kuro’s hand like the Celestial Kitsune had once rubbed his ears.

“I would never hurt you,” Ren said.

Kuro gawked, his hand as limp as rotten fish.

Ren flushed, and jerked his hand back, but he didn’t look away. He stepped back, toying with the edge of his obi. “Let me show you around my compound.”

This time, his fingers numb, Kuro nodded.