by Forthright
Nona transformed into a beauty with a seductive smile. “These are ours. Be reasonable.”
Argent’s chin lifted. “You cannot reason your prey out of my grasp. This hunt has ended, and its success is mine. As are these.” Again, he said, “Be gone.”
The other vixen also took human form. “Why can we not share? Are there not two?”
“Give us the girl,” wheedled Nona.
Pushing aside silver fur, the little girl latched onto Argent’s sleeve. She didn’t ask for anything, not with words, but every line of her slender frame trembled. And once again Tsumiko was given a hint of the import she held. It was as if Argent were sharing his impressions, weaving them into the fabric of this dream.
Beautiful. Innocent. Desirable. She gained strength until she shone like a star in Tsumiko’s eyes.
“Why should I part with anything?” Argent’s tone held a sneer. “I am neither obliged nor beguiled by these empty propositions.”
Nona tried one last time. “We are not opposed to a more balanced exchange. Gifts for favors, in the old tradition.”
Argent’s tails lashed. “No exchanges, no favors, and no further patience. Be gone.”
The voice at her ear bristled with indignation. “The old tradition she dared to suggest would have required me to make a present of the children to her. She would have consumed the beacon’s soul—and her brother’s besides—to invoke a bloody, binding law of courtship.”
Nona and Senna traded a look and seemed ready to argue, but a building growl changed their minds. They fled.
Then Argent lowered himself to one knee before the girl, offering a clawed hand. Her brother ran behind her, hiding his face.
Argent asked, “Is that any way to thank your savior?”
“Are you a beast?” she asked.
“I am.”
“Are you safe?”
“Certainly not.”
She considered that, then asked, “Are we safe?”
“The others have gone,” he replied.
“You are still here. What will you do?”
Argent said, “I have no particular plans.”
Tsumiko had to admire the girl’s courage. And her tenacity in getting answers out of the evasive fox.
But her dream companion huffed against her ear. “So calm. Like you.”
“You make it sound like a bad thing,” she murmured, unsure she wanted to be compared to another woman. Even if she was only a girl.
“Not bad. But interesting.” The older, nine-tailed fox hid his smile against her neck. “And in your case, infuriating.”
She wanted to ask more, but he slipped a hand over her mouth and pointed to the scene he’d brought her to see.
With a sigh, the young Argent said, “You are safe.”
“Promise?” asked the girl.
The fox made a soft noise of impatience, but he said, “I promise.”
She pulled her younger brother from behind her back and pressed him into Argent’s chest, then flung her arms as far as they could reach around both. And began to cry.
It seemed she’d reached the end of her bravery. And no wonder.
“They never stood a chance,” her companion murmured. “Neither did I.”
Young Argent gathered both children into his arms and walked back the way they’d come.
Tsumiko turned to her guide, this silver-trimmed person who seemed stronger and stranger and striking in new ways. She dared to ask, “Is this who you are?”
“This is who I was, who I am not, and who I can never fully un-become.” His gaze followed the retreating form of his former self. “I would never have been enslaved if it were not so.”
“Why did you help her?”
Argent’s tails battered her gently about the ankles. “To spite the vixens. To snub death. To see what would happen.”
Tsumiko felt like crying. “You carried them home?”
“Straight into captivity.” He grimaced. “I went willingly, you know. As much for her sake as to reassure her kinsmen. She was my first taste, and I would have done anything to remain beside her. If she had grown up ….” He left the thought unfinished.
“She didn’t grow up?”
He shook his head once. “Only then did the truth of my predicament become clear. The bond next passed to an aunt. Her daughter. A granddaughter.”
Tsumiko gazed around the firefly forest overlooking a village still aflame. Every detail was vivid, as if this memory was revisited often. As if it were treasured.
“Do you regret saving that little girl’s life?”
“Never.” He bent so close, the tip of his nose touched hers. “My proving journey brought nothing but devastation and degradation. But it still served its purpose. Here, I proved myself. Here, I can still hold my head high.”
FIFTY THREE
Survival Rate
The following morning, Tsumiko lingered in the bathroom, mulling over the previous night’s dream. Fire and screams, fear and death—she couldn’t un-see the lurid scenes Argent had painted for her. Times had certainly changed. Most news outlets lifted up the peace-loving Amaranthine as a pattern for human unification and tolerance. And she couldn’t argue that the various clans respected one another. But how did they really feel about humans?
Long ago, the Amaranthine were a threat. And in Argent’s memories, reavers were prey. But the Hightip sisters’ attitudes and actions were mercifully outdated. Nona must have changed if she’d helped pave the way for peace.
But the lady fox’s gaze had been so hungry. And there was a rogue killing and kidnapping unsuspecting humans. Yet Naroo-soh’s outrage against the offender had been as clear as his sorrow for those who’d suffered. Brynn Fallowfield treated Kyoko with obvious affection. And Argent remembered Nona and Senna with obvious disdain.
And another thing. The deaths Tsumiko had seen still lingered in Argent’s memory. They’d only affected her deeply because they’d affected him deeply. And he’d suffered for centuries because he’d obeyed a compassionate impulse.
More than ever, she was determined to set things right. To set him free.
Her prayers to that affect were interrupted by a soft rap on the door.
“There is a message,” Argent called. “It could be from Michael.”
“Coming!” she answered, hurrying to splash cold water on her face.
Tsumiko had never been self-conscious about prayer until Argent began stalking hers. A basic pattern had been established at Saint Midori’s—morning and evening prayers, meals and chapel. But private devotion wasn’t quite so structured. Expressions of gratitude, pleas for guidance or protection. These came as easily as breathing, but they lured him in, locked his focus, and left her at a loss. Argent’s ill-concealed voyeurism troubled her enough to make him the topic of the prayers he found so fascinating.
She cracked the door. Sure enough, Argent loitered on the other side looking vaguely guilty. “Well?” she asked. “What is it?”
“A text.”
She exited her makeshift prayer closet and crossed to the bedside table, where her cell phone blinked insistently. “Didn’t you check?”
Argent hung back, tense. “Well?”
“A message,” she exclaimed. “This must have been dinging like crazy.”
“I may have been distracted.”
“There are at least a dozen texts. All from Michael.” Tsumiko quickly opened her messages … and smiled. “He’s been spamming us with pictures. Of his new baby girl.”
. . .
Tsumiko studied the sky as she and Argent crossed the estate, aiming for the hunting lodge. Barely up, the sun shone weakly in a milky sky that promised more snow. She asked, “Do you know what birth attendants have to do?”
“Follow orders.” Argent blandly added, “This is Mare Fallowfield’s area of expe
rtise.”
“Didn’t you help when Gingko was born?”
A soft growl rose between them. “Not … as such.”
She slipped her arm through his. Although she was curious, it seemed best to curb the questions queuing up in her mind. In this, at least, Argent wouldn’t have to answer to her.
With a huff of steam that mingled with the first snowflakes, he grimly said, “She was already dead when I cut my son from her body.”
Tsumiko searched his face, but it was utterly blank. She asked, “Does Gingko know you saved his life?”
Argent merely hummed.
“I hope we won’t need to take such drastic measures to see Kyoko’s baby safe.”
“Her nurse was optimistic.” Argent avoided the main entrance, leading her around the side of the house. “Your presence may ensure a better outcome for her. I wish I could say the same for the child.”
Tsumiko stopped in her tracks. “Can you tell something about the baby?”
“I can tell the child is unwanted.”
“Oh, but ….” Except she agreed with him. Kyoko wasn’t behaving like a woman who wanted her baby. “What about Stewart?”
“Tsk.” Argent’s gaze fixed on an upstairs window. “Her wishes will be his first concern.”
The kitchen door opened, and Brynn Fallowfield waved them inside. “Labor started during the small hours,” she announced with satisfaction. “All is in readiness.”
Tsumiko shed her winter wear, and Argent pulled out a chair at the table, where breakfast waited. She sat, but asked, “Don’t we need to go to Kyoko?”
“Her doting doctor is a capable man.” Brynn poured steaming tea into three cups. “Take strength before the ordeal.”
Argent set a pair of gloves beside his plate and took a seat. Quirking a brow at Tsumiko, he said, “Follow orders.”
Brynn asked, “Have either of you attended a birth before?”
Tsumiko quickly said, “I haven’t. I’d be grateful for instruction.”
Over breakfast, Nurse Fallowfield told them what to expect, ending on a cautionary note. “The day will be long. In seeing to Kyoko’s needs, do not neglect your own.”
Argent murmured, “I will see to my lady’s needs.”
“Doubtless. Come up in half an hour.” She stood to go, but paused on the threshold. With a flutter of fingers, she added, “Drop your ward and unleash your brightness. Give the child something to reach for.”
After she’d gone, Tsumiko toyed with her bracelet’s clasp. “Will this be a problem?”
“On the contrary.” He smirked faintly. “I welcome the distraction.”
“Sansa mentioned that you don’t like childbirth.”
“My preferences have been overlooked with shocking regularity. Do not trouble yourself on my account, mistress.” Crossing to her side, he hooked the catch with the tip of a claw and slid the heavy beads from her wrist. “This once, I will not complain.”
. . .
“Have you considered training to become a healer?” Brynn Fallowfield’s tone was light, but her gaze weighed heavily on Tsumiko. “You have the patience, the wits. Any of the herds would consider your apprenticeship a privilege.”
“No doubt,” Argent said sharply. “As the apprenticeship would bring a beacon into their midst.”
The nurse’s low laugh was almost a nicker. “No doubt. But my assessment stands. Tsumiko is the calm to her cousin’s storm. She could do much good with the knowledge we would impart.”
Tsumiko had no answer for Brynn, but the question prodded at her conscience. She believed in purpose. Ignorant of the potential stored in her soul, she’d thought she found hers at Saint Midori’s. But now she knew she was a reaver. And a beacon, no less. Shouldn’t she be looking for something to do with her life, with her gifts, with her suddenly abundant resources?
Surely there was an underlying purpose to the sudden turn her life had taken. Yes, she could free Argent and help Gingko. And Michael and Sansa were also part of the family she’d always longed for. But she couldn’t be content with a pursuit in which the end was her own happiness. That went against everything she’d always valued.
Could she do much good?
Moving to the window, Tsumiko watched snowflakes whirl through bare trees. The dim winter daylight was nearing an end, yet this felt like a beginning. Where would the path forward lead? What might she become?
Tsumiko hadn’t realized her thoughts had turned to prayers until they were interrupted by Brynn staggering to a chair. A moment later, Argent’s presence wrapped around her, stifling the unchecked flow of her soul.
Nurse Fallowfield muttered something about glinting radiance.
Argent stepped up behind Tsumiko, lightly resting his gloved hands on her shoulders. “Is this really the time and place for such flagrant intercession?”
Glancing between him and the bed, where Kyoko stirred restlessly under a crumpled coverlet, Tsumiko stated the obvious. “Yes.”
“If you must,” he said, reaching around to enfold her clasped hands with his own. “Perhaps we should proceed together.”
She wavered, then whispered, “Are you sure?”
“I have always wanted to try.” Argent rested his chin atop her head, gazing with her out the window.
“Do your people pray?”
“In our way.” He shrugged closer, and she could feel his hold on her, gentle as the brush of tails. “It is said our very existence is the world’s prayer—invocation, adulation, and benediction combined. A threefold chant of what was and is and is to come.”
More than ever, Tsumiko wanted a look at the Amaranthine equivalent of sacred writings. Maybe her new role wouldn’t diverge much from her former one. That of student.
“Nurse Fallowfield?” Stewart called, a note of concern underlying his professional tone. “I believe there’s been a change.”
Brynn levered herself from the chair and passed close by them. “Be brief. The birth you are attending is imminent.”
“How can you tell?” whispered Tsumiko. Very little had changed for Kyoko throughout the day … except that she seemed paler and more listless than ever.
“Because it must be now.” With a small shake of her head, Brynn added, “Otherwise, Mrs. Hajime-Smythe will not be strong enough to bring the child out. And if they do not both die, one surely will.”
Tsumiko pulled free, and Argent released her with a sulky sigh.
Stewart asked, “Did something change?”
“I shuttered the star,” Argent said from his post at the far end of the room. Kyoko wouldn’t tolerate him any closer. “The child lost sight of your pretty lure. Was there a protest?”
“A shift,” he replied. “Downward.”
“Excellent. We can use that.” Brynn made adjustments to the bed and bedding. In a low voice, she said, “Miss Hajime, you are with me. Argent, keep a tight hold on your star, but let her sparkle now and again. To light the way.”
. . .
After so many exhausting hours of empty anticipation, everything seemed to be happening at once. And to make matters worse, Tsumiko couldn’t really do much. Except to shine. And that was only useful because Argent could control her output. Kyoko fairly snarled at her tentative offers of encouragement, probably because she’d mentioned the baby. It was as if the child’s very existence was taboo. Stewart was clearly skilled at avoiding the subject.
“It’ll be over soon, darling. Courage.”
Kyoko’s restlessness presaged another contraction, which dragged a thin wail past her lips. Her eyes rolled back as her hands knotted in the blankets, and she tossed to and fro. “Make it stop,” she gasped. “I want it over.”
“A little longer,” promised her husband. “You can do it.”
“End this!” Kyoko shrilled, struggling against the pain. “I don’t care what it tak
es! Get it gone!”
Tsumiko wavered between dismay and indignation. And since no one else was willing, she focused on the child.
At that moment, Argent loosened his hold on her, and she sensed power welling up. Just a taste, enough to tempt. And then came a tiny tug. As if the baby was reaching for her. She could feel the clawing need, so much smaller than Argent’s had been, but equally insistent. Needing more. Needing her?
It was so sad. First Kyoko was held captive by a monster, and now she was held captive by the child she carried. But this little one wasn’t a monster. This was only a child. One who wanted to live.
Tsumiko brushed away tears. “Come to me, little one,” she whispered. “I’ll do my best to give you what you need.”
Brynn murmured soothing nonsense until the contraction faded, then beckoned insistently. “Argent, a word.”
Kyoko cried, “Stay back! Keep him away! You promised!”
Her nurse’s jaw worked, but she inclined her head. “I’ll bring more tea.” Pulling both Tsumiko and Argent into the hall, she shut the door and rounded on them. “She is wavering. Her life is in danger.”
“Agreed,” said Argent. “She will be used up, and that will bring an end.”
Tsumiko bit her lip. That wasn’t the ending she’d hoped for. But wanting wasn’t always enough to keep disappointments at bay. Still, she had to speak. “The baby wants to live.”
Argent’s eyebrows arched. “Naturally.”
Nurse Fallowfield said, “There is a way they can both survive.”
“If you are only mentioning it now, can we assume this is a measure of last resort?” Argent asked with acid politeness.
“For more than one reason.” The lady of the horse clans frowned. “Not the least of which, it would go against Kyoko’s wishes.”
Tsumiko asked, “Why?”
“Because she doesn’t want the fox anywhere near her.” Brynn gestured helplessly. “But he could lend her the strength she needs to survive the delivery.”