Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox (Amaranthine Saga Book 1)

by Forthright

  What an empty promise. In a handful of decades, he would strew petals on Tsumiko’s grave. He muffled a bitter laugh in the collar of his coat. “Inasmuch as anything so ephemeral can be kept.”

  . . .

  Tsumiko sat up in bed and held her breath, listening for some sign of Argent. But their rooms only held the soft hush of a dawning day, and she knew she was alone. Not a single flower petal littered the floor. Had she dreamed the whole thing?

  No.

  She curled back under her blanket, hugging her pillow. Argent had proposed … sort of. While there had been no stirring declaration of love, she had felt his need for her during tending. Different than the starved state in which she’d first found him, but equally urgent. And honest.

  But he was Amaranthine. And he’d changed his tune seemingly out of nowhere. Could such an impetuous turnabout lead to something that would last?

  Tsumiko searched her memory for hints.

  When had he changed? Were there clues she’d missed? She was in close contact with him on a daily basis. Connected so deeply, their souls brushed. Maybe that’s why she’d assumed little had changed. People could be blind to what was closest.

  Argent hadn’t been able to resist the pull of her soul. Early on, he’d touched her with such reluctance. Gingko had suggested that his father hated his inability to quell the need to touch her, to hold her. But … the nestling was different. And the peaceful expression that overtook his face when brushing her hair. And the sway of his tails.

  Wait. Suuzu had been concerned for her, but when Argent said that she knew the number of his tails, the other Amaranthine understood the import. More than she did. Had Argent’s display been some kind of unspoken declaration? One she’d completely missed.

  Tsumiko had never truly believed Argent hated her. But it was equally difficult to understand why he might love her. Gingko had hinted at his dad’s possessiveness, and Sansa had advised her to believe a fox’s tails over his words.

  If only she could ask.

  Oh. How foolish. She could simply ask. Tsumiko emerged long enough to collect her phone and texted Michael.

  Do Amaranthine marry?

  Belatedly, she calculated the time difference. What was the hour back home? What if he was busy with their houseguests right now? But less than a minute later, Michael’s response pinged.

  Customs vary by clan, but

  most have an equivalent

  Bondmates, partners, consorts, harems

  How do they go about it?

  Is there a ceremony?

  Again, customs vary by clan

  But the basics are very … well, basic

  The willing parties reach an understanding

  Courtship is traditional, but optional

  For the Amaranthine, one thing is essential

  What?

  Consummation

  That’s all?

  That’s *everything*

  Union is never offered lightly

  Romantic, isn’t it?

  Had Argent been serious last night? Not teasing or toying, but initiating a very different bond. “He should have explained,” she whispered.

  Michael’s next text came through.

  Is this about that dragon?

  Dragons are not strictly monogamous

  Strong males cultivate harems

  In fact, harem is their word for home

  What about foxes?

  Den is home

  And to share a den?

  To share a life

  …Sansa wants to know why you ask

  Argent had said the same thing, making his intentions clear. He wanted a marriage, to be the Amaranthine equivalent of husband and wife.

  Tsumiko, pardon my asking

  Is this about Argent?

  Yes.

  Ah. We should talk. But know this …

  A fox chooses once and chooses well

  Even a human?

  Moreso

  This is important! Tell Argent

  I have it under good authority

  That the Spokesperson for the dog clans

  Has a human bondmate

  And she recently bore him a healthy son

  The story is clogging the networks

  What they *haven’t* mentioned

  Is they’ve been pledged for three centuries

  300 years. How?

  No idea, but Sansa is adamant

  Argent needs to know

  Why?

  Hope

  At that moment, the balcony door opened, and Argent stepped through. He was dressed in his butler’s uniform, but his posture had less starch in it. And his hair was wind-ruffled.

  Tsumiko ventured, “You went out?”

  His brow arched, and he answered the underlying question. “I gave the forget-me-nots to Eimi.”

  “Thank you.” She toyed awkwardly with her necklace, then held out the phone. “You should probably just read this. I’ve been texting Michael and Sansa.”

  He calmly took a seat on the bed’s edge, accepting the device. He scrolled through the entire exchange twice, then tapped in several exchanges before offering it back.

  She read the additions.

  You have always been

  entirely too optimistic.

  Argent

  Thank you. She has calmed considerably.

  What did you do? (Sansa is glaring)

  Nothing untoward.

  Is your lofty guest still in residence?

  Not him, but the others remain

  Your child?

  Soon

  And the pup?

  Harmonious dotes on every channel

  Tune in, see the crossbreed

  poster child for yourself

  Cute little guy

  His mother?

  I’ll ask around

  Do.

  When she looked up, Argent sat waiting. Again, she felt that subtle alteration in attitude. It wasn’t as if he were slouching, but the stiffness had slipped from his manner.

  “Are you calmer?” he asked.

  Tsumiko wasn’t sure why he’d gathered that impression. She was in truly foreign territory, with her only interpreters half a world away. “I don’t think so. Are you?”

  “Considerably less than it might seem.” Argent gently pried one of her hands from the coverlet and held it. “But calm enough to converse, should you have questions for me as well.”

  Her cheeks warmed.

  His thumb traced circles on her palm.

  She had wanted his openness. She’d been trying to win his trust. But instead of simply bowing to his mistress’s wishes, he’d made his own wishes known. Was his reversal part of a cunning scheme? Michael’s words suggested otherwise—foxes choose once and choose well.

  Tsumiko asked, “Why would you choose someone like me?”

  With a faint smile, he countered, “Why would you accept someone like me?”

  “Because … it’s you.”

  Argent inclined his head. “Exactly.”

  FORTY SEVEN

  Fool’s Errand

  Although they were quite early, voices drifted from the breakfast room. Tsumiko couldn’t grasp the meaning of the words, but their tone was unusually grim. Argent ushered her in, and two men scrambled to their feet—Cedric and Stewart.

  They looked … guilty.

  Argent moved through the sudden silence, smoothly seating Tsumiko and collecting food from the sideboard. Without a word, he refilled the gentlemen’s cups, unobtrusively scanning the newspapers fanned out between them as he did so.

  Tsk.

  Both Smythe men flinched.

  With a disdainful air, Argent stole the topmost paper. Carrying it around the table, he spread it before Tsumiko. “It i
s as Michael said. Fresh fodder for the masses.”

  She could pick out a few words here and there, but the picture told a story she could understand. A black-and-white photograph showed an Amaranthine—square-jawed, shaggy-browed, and grinning as he cradled a newborn to his broad chest.

  Argent said, “The headline is New Breed.”

  The snapshot was too grainy to make out any details on the crest decorating the new papa’s armband, but Tsumiko knew his face. Everyone did. Harmonious Starmark was one of the Five.

  “His wife is human?” she asked.

  “Bondmate, yes.”

  Tsumiko tipped her head to one side and whispered, “I think the baby has ears like Gingko’s.”

  Argent hummed distractedly. “According to the article, he also has a tail.”

  “Is that normal?”

  “Who can say? This child is the first publically acknowledged hybrid.” With a small shrug, he added, “He has set the standard.”

  Suddenly, Tsumiko became aware of the heavy silence, for Cedric punctuated it with the gruff clearing of his throat. He spoke, but Argent didn’t translate for her. Instead, he said, “My mistress wishes to know if any part of this is being televised.”

  “I’ll show them,” Stewart offered. “This news may make our … situation easier to explain.”

  Cedric muttered darkly.

  “This way, please.” The younger man hurried to a nearby study and pressed a button. As a large screen slid into view, he addressed Tsumiko. “The Spokesperson’s announcement has captured the world’s attention … and imagination. He cherishes a human woman. From two species springs a third. He has transformed the Emergence into a love story.”

  “Dogs do love their sagas and songs,” said Argent.

  Tsumiko held her tongue as the screen lit up with images, and voices filled the room with an incomprehensible commentary. The symbol of the Amaranthine peace hung in the corner of the screen, where a panel of experts seemed to be providing commentary on this latest development.

  Argent snapped at Stewart, who muted the garble.

  They were replaying an earlier broadcast from Keishi, where reporters from all over crowded outside the Starmark compound. The Spokesperson for the dog clans towered over the press conference, an imposing figure despite his easygoing grin.

  Tsumiko whispered, “Is that a trick of the camera?”

  Argent asked, “What?”

  “His eyes.”

  “Not a trick,” said Argent. “Rather, the camera cannot do them justice. You can see why their clan hue is copper.”

  Harmonious Starmark’s pupils were slit like Argent’s, but his irises were warm pools of liquid metal. As striking as they were strange.

  Argent asked, “Have they shown the mother?”

  Stewart said, “Not once. All they’ve said is that she’s resting comfortably at home.”

  A different clip rolled, this one pulled back, showing more of an impressive set of gates clearly emblazoned with the Starmark crest. Now that the cameras weren’t zoomed in on Harmonious, Tsumiko could see those who stood with him.

  “A good showing of pack solidarity,” Argent remarked.

  Four other Amaranthine flanked Harmonious, all with the same fair skin and thick hair that hung in loose waves or heavy braids. Their matching sashes shimmered slightly in the sunlight, their clan hue. As the reporters volleyed questions at the Spokesperson, he handed off the baby to the youngest of his clansmen. The boy seemed only a few years older than Akira. He turned his body slightly, shielding the baby from the lights and noise.

  “Are they close family?”

  “The closest.” Argent said, “Those four are his other sons.”

  The resemblance was evident. As was their heritage. “They’re Amaranthine.”

  “As was their mother,” said Argent. “I do not know what became of her. Michael is looking into it, but he will not have to look far. They are already promoting a special that will delve into Starmark’s love life. ‘Heart of a Dog’ will air on Christmas Eve.”

  In a softer voice, Tsumiko asked, “This is good for Gingko, isn’t it? People will accept children of mixed heritage.”

  “I am sure that has been their plan all along.”

  Stewart spoke up again. “If you’d be so kind, Grandfather and I need a private word with the two of you. Might you come to the library after breakfast?”

  Feigning ignorance, Tsumiko asked, “What for?”

  “I need your advice on a personal matter.” The doctor glanced uneasily in her butler’s direction. “And Grandfather wants Argent.”

  . . .

  “Give him to me!” demanded Lord Cedric.

  Maybe his commanding tone would have intimidated a child, but she arched her brows and repeated, “No.”

  “Not permanently, of course. A loan. Or do it yourself! Order him to hunt for me. Track down the one who did this. Get me my revenge!” His voice broke. “Give this old man some peace.”

  Had Cedric forgotten she couldn’t understand a word he was saying? Stewart undoubtedly gave his grandfather’s pleas a more diplomatic spin. But she didn’t need him to explain the emotions twisting his lined face—frustration, guilt, and regret.

  Stewart quietly explained, “The car is ready. Arrangements have already been made. We can be there and back in one day.”

  Tsumiko turned to Argent. “Do you want to?”

  He smirked.

  She wasn’t particularly surprised. “We’ll do what we can, but under four conditions.”

  Stewart translated, and Cedric harrumphed. But he waved for her to continue.

  Tsumiko said, “You have no authority over Argent.”

  They agreed.

  “Wherever Argent goes, I go.”

  The gentlemen were much less happy with that, but they acquiesced.

  “We will not walk blindly into danger,” she said. “Tell us everything.”

  “It’s a long story,” said Stewart. “I can explain on the way.”

  She searched his strained face and gentled her tone. “And lastly, when we return, I wish to meet your wife.”

  “I’ve wanted to introduce the two of you.” Stewart covered trembling lips with a shaky hand. “I promise I will.”

  . . .

  The car left Uppington half an hour later.

  Cedric rode in front with his driver, hidden away behind a glass partition. Without the need to keep him apprised, Stewart slipped into Japanese. Once in a while, he hesitated, searching for the proper word or phrase. At such times, he reverted to English so Argent could supplement an explanation that felt more and more like a confession.

  Stewart’s restless fingers tapped and twisted, only stilling when he gripped his knees, knuckles white.

  “Have you finished with the inanities?” Argent inquired.

  The man looked ill.

  With a soft tsk, Argent reached across Tsumiko, taking Stewart by the chin, forcing the man to look at him. He growled, but she thought not threateningly. If anything, the vibrations held a note of comfort. To her surprise, Stewart understood the intent. Had Argent soothed away this man’s fears before, perhaps when he was a boy?

  Argent said, “You are safe, Stewie. Your lady is safe. And my lady wants to ease your suffering. Spill the secrets before you sink deeper into despair.”

  “Can you help us, Argent?”

  “Who can say?” Patting Stewart’s cheek, Argent sat back. “Begin with the procurement of your bride.”

  “Kyoko.”

  She seemed to be a safer topic, for Stewart relaxed enough to smile. “Grandfather is the one who did all the research. He became an amateur genealogist in order to track down someone suitable. He found Kyoko at university, offered her a scholarship to transfer here. She came.”

  “An arranged marriage?�
�� asked Tsumiko.

  “No, no. Not at first. She was a humanities major, specializing in folklore. Cedric wanted her for himself, academically speaking.” Stewart’s gaze dropped. “I married her … after.”

  “After what?” she pressed.

  Stewart took a deep breath. “There was an unfortunate incident involving one of Grandfather’s research teams. He’d pieced together enough clues to believe there were creatures like Argent living in secluded places. Rallying an expedition based on local stories of dragons, they planned hikes into the hills, through moors. It was a lark—camping with a bit of myth-busting thrown in.”

  His voice shook. “Jacques was going to go along, but Grandfather didn’t want him distracting the team. It’s a good thing, too. All of the men died. Brutally.”

  “Only the men?” asked Argent.

  “Yes.” He glanced uncertainly at Tsumiko. “The next part may be too scary …?”

  “Go on,” Tsumiko said. “Tell us so we’re prepared.”

  “They found bodies—pieces of bodies, really—scattered through a shallow valley. It wasn’t until the investigators finished gathering that they realized both women were missing. Searches were mounted, but nothing came of it. We gave them up for dead … until the Emergence. Cedric demanded the case reopened, and the Rivven sent in their hunters.” Stewart twisted the slim silver band on his ring finger. “The wolves found her, brought her back. She’s been in my care ever since.”

  Argent’s fingers drummed the side of his leg. “As a patient or as your wife?”

  “I can only offer her a husband’s love and support.” Stewart lowered his voice. “Her nurse is one of your people. She’s been very kind.”

  Tsumiko asked, “Weren’t you planning to introduce Kyoko to Aunt Eimi?”

  “Yes.” An apologetic glance. “Grandfather insisted we try, but I don’t think they would have let us leave. Kyoko’s meant to be in hiding.”