Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox (Amaranthine Saga Book 1)

by Forthright

  “I’m fine. Maybe later,” she murmured. “All I really want is sleep.”

  “Take my bed.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I hardly ever use it,” Akira said. “There’s more room on the floor.”

  More room. For what? But Tsumiko let it go. Argent scooped up the freshly diapered little one and folded back the covers so she could crawl under. Then he placed the baby at her side. He slept with one tiny hand curled over the edge of his swaddling blankets.

  “He hasn’t cried once,” she whispered. “Shouldn’t he be hungry?”

  “With a beacon at hand? He will be content for a few days more.”

  “But shouldn’t he eat normally?”

  “That would be best.”

  Tsumiko brushed his fuzz of purple hair. “Maybe I should ask Sansa if she could nurse him?”

  “I have no doubt she would be willing.” Argent tucked them in together, then stretched out on the floor between her bed and the boys, as if establishing a line of defense.

  Suuzu doused the lights and joined Akira on the floor.

  A thought occurred to Tsumiko. Surely the sun was up by now. “Don’t you boys have class?”

  “Argent gave us the day off,” her brother cheerfully announced. “Which is good since you woke us way too early. So we’re all gonna catch up on missed sleep.”

  Tsumiko frowned at the window, the door, the clock. Shouldn’t it be brighter? And why weren’t they hearing the racket of other boys getting ready for school? Surely it was too soon for New Year’s break.

  “I have gone to great lengths to ensure your comfort.” Argent glanced over his shoulder at her. “Stop thinking and get the rest you need.”

  “You’re using an illusion?”

  “In conjunction with multiple sigils and wards,” he said. “Hisoka Twineshaft and Harmonious Starmark couldn’t find the door, even with every wolf in Elderbough’s pack joining them in the hunt.”

  “The halls?”

  Argent sounded bored as he boasted. “Overrun with pubescent humanity. But Lapis Mossberne could caper past the door in his truest form, and the ruckus would not reach our ears.”

  Suuzu chuckled.

  Tsumiko glanced his way and was mildly surprised by the sight of her brother using Suuzu’s shoulder for a pillow. They seemed entirely comfortable with the closeness, and she tried to remember if the futons had already been in the middle of the floor when they arrived.

  Akira yawned and jostled his friend. “Get comfy already.”

  The air stirred with a familiar gust, and brilliant colors burst into view. Suuzu transformed into an enormous bird with a long neck and a swaying crown of feathers. He shook out wings that shimmered with an inner light, as if each feather were ablaze.

  Half-buried in tawny down, Akira called, “Don’t worry, Sis. This is totally normal.”

  “You sleep this way often?” she asked.

  “Most every night.”

  Suuzu fussed at the edges of their bed with a long, slender beak, warbling softly.

  Argent batted away feathers, for Suuzu’s trailing tail threatened to billow over the bed. The phoenix made a soft clucking sound, which could have been scolding or birdlike laughter.

  Akira grinned at Argent. “You could get comfy, too, you know.”

  “He wouldn’t fit,” said Tsumiko.

  But Argent’s tails appeared in a flourish of white-tipped silver.

  Her little brother whistled appreciatively, and Suuzu trilled.

  “Show off,” whispered Tsumiko.

  Argent’s brows arched, and he said, “Sleep. Now.”

  Tsumiko did try. But a jittery, chattering restlessness kept her from relaxing enough to drift off. No one else seemed to be having the same trouble. Surrounded by the hush of steady breathing, she reached from the bed to brush Argent’s shoulder.

  He turned and caught her hand. “What do you need?” he asked softly.

  She hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know what to ask for.”

  “Then allow me to be generous.” Argent spared a glance for the boys and their nest, then eased up onto the bed with her, the baby between. “Your light has ebbed and needs tending. Take strength from me.”

  He was offering to tend her? The way Brynn Fallowfield had tended Kyoko? Was that really what she needed right now? Tsumiko was intrigued, but an even more basic question remained. “How?”

  Argent slid closer, pulling her against his shoulder, his free hand resting lightly on the baby. He asked, “How do you tend to me?”

  “When we touch, there’s a tug,” she said. “Then I flow into your empty places until they’re full.”

  “Well then,” he said. “When we touch, pull me into your empty places until you are satisfied.”

  Tsumiko asked, “Am I empty?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m … not sure,” she admitted.

  “You have spent much of yourself.” Argent stroked her hair. “You shone brightly so this child could live. You have been tending him, and you sustained me during our escape. You may be a beacon, but your reserves are not fathomless.”

  So there was an end to the reservoir.

  “Take from me.” Argent took her hand and moved it to his blaze. “Let me tend you, for my reserves are teeming over, and your lack displeases me.”

  Once again, she asked, “How?”

  “If you cannot figure it out, I daresay none will.”

  She pressed her palm to his chest, much as she had done the day they were bound. Only this time, Argent’s hand covered hers, and she responded to his warmth with an overflow of affection.

  “Tsk. Generosity will be the end of you.” He tapped her nose as if she were a naughty puppy. “That was giving. Now take.”

  She struggled to understand what to do with the vast store of power laid before her. If she were thirsty, she would drink. If she were hungry, she would eat. Those things were so basic, they came naturally to anyone, even to a suckling child. But how did an Amaranthine take when a reaver tended?

  “Argent, I think I need to … umm.” Her gaze fixed on his lips.

  “How very traditional of you,” he said, nestling closer. “As you like, my lady.”

  Through slow kisses, he coaxed her along, stirring desires that had nothing to do with power. Yet they served to start the flow, pulling the tide in the correct direction. He tended her until she trembled with the giddiness of a delightful discovery. Gingko had been right. Tending felt exactly like falling in love.

  . . .

  Suuzu watched in covert fascination as the fox tended his lady.

  He was too young to remember the days when predatory clans treated reavers as prey, but he knew the stories. They were still shared out during summer storms and coming-of-age journeys. Like human ghost stories, they sent shivers of awe and thrills of horror through those young enough to be fascinated by fear.

  If this were one of the terrible tales, Argent would have curled around the beacon and slowly devoured her, body and soul. Yet here was a fox cradling a woman to his chest, urging her to take from him.

  Suuzu could see their struggle. They weren’t accustomed to this reversal, so they fumbled and failed. Akira’s sister kept trying to offer herself, but her generosity was met by gentle chiding. The need was hers; the strength was Argent’s. Finally, she found the way of latching on, and they melted into one another.

  He lowered his gaze.

  It was whispered among juveniles that tending was even more pleasurable than intercourse. Suuzu had not yet gone to a reaver for his first taste, but he was tempted to believe it. A few moments standing in Miss Hajime’s presence had been enough to send him careening. He couldn’t imagine the disarray that would result from tasting such a soul.

  No wonder Argent guarded her so clo
sely. And no wonder the elders had allied themselves to reavers. Here was power, desire, and delight.

  Everyone knew the story of the first reaver village, of the boy and the dog who had founded the In-between. A mutually beneficial alliance. But few texts told about the time before the Founding, and no written record spelled out how the reavers came to be. Because their genesis had gone unnoticed. A secretive serendipity. A miraculous melding … or meddling. And perhaps even a wondrous inevitability, only now becoming clear in hindsight.

  No, the truth was not written in any text. But it was given to one child in ten.

  Juuyu had told him the tale. His older brother, the first Farroost tribute, had been passing along their secrets and traditions ever since Suuzu had come of age. Suuzu still had much to learn. And thanks to Akira, he also had many pressing questions.

  The freshest concerned his sister’s fosterling. Akira had remarked that the baby wasn’t human, but Suuzu knew he was only half right. This child was one of the crossers Juuyu had spoken of in solemn tones. Seemingly impossible children, many without a place or protection.

  They had found a powerful Spokesperson in Harmonious Starmark. But how many remained unaccounted? And in the wake of the Emergence, how many more would be born?

  Suuzu forgot his manners and watched as Argent quieted the woman with whom he shared a bond. As the fox’s lulling sent her to sleep, Suuzu’s attention turned to the flicker between them. If he closed his eyes, he could see their flames in his mind—Amaranthine, human, and the new life such a joining might spark.

  A logical and orderly outcome. An existence worth nurturing. Yes, he must speak more with Juuyu about crossers, but also about Akira himself.

  The vixens who’d come to the school and pawed at his friend had been searching for one thing, so they’d missed the other. Suuzu focused on the even breaths puffing against his feathers, then upon the shape of his nestmate’s soul.

  Akira might have been brother to a beacon, but he was no reaver. And yet, something was there. Deep within. Tucked away.

  Suuzu had noticed its glow by chance and knew the spot of warmth was somehow secret. He’d likened it to a golden egg nested deep in Akira’s belly. An alluring mystery. The basis for many nights’ contemplation.

  With Argent’s example fresh in his mind, Suuzu wondered if he could somehow tend to his friend so that the proverbial egg would hatch. What potential might he unlock?

  Switching back to his speaking form, Suuzu pulled Akira into his arms. His roommate came without a struggle, used to the closeness that Suuzu craved. He’d patiently tamed and taught his roommate. Although he despaired of Akira ever grasping the importance of an orderly nest, he’d quickly picked up on the nuances of touch and tone, which were as important as words for those in the bird clans.

  Akira wholeheartedly embraced his role as nestmate to a phoenix far from home. Perhaps there was a way Suuzu could match his generosity. Lend him a little of his soul’s measure, a taste of his larger portion of eternity.

  But how?

  Suuzu considered what he’d learned from eavesdropping on Argent. Generosity and flow—those he could manage—but Akira’s sister had needed a kiss. Not a thing to be given or taken lightly. Suuzu understood that much about Akira’s culture. Consent was needed. So he nudged his roommate.

  Akira woke enough to croak, “Wassup.”

  “I may have found new symmetries between our species. Are you willing to explore their potential?”

  “Too early,” he whined. “Can’t it wait?”

  Could it? Moments ago, Suuzu had been eager enough to act on impulse, waking his friend, but time was something Amaranthine had in excess. Perhaps it was wiser to wait. Give Akira time to mature. Allow their bond to strengthen.

  “I can be patient,” he acknowledged as Akira curled against him. Straightening the blankets and relaxing into their shared pillow, Suuzu promised, “I will wait.”

  FIFTY EIGHT

  God Have Mercy

  Tsumiko woke to the pop and crackle of plastic and a fading sense of elation, as if leaving behind a lovely dream. Staring blankly at the boxy light fixture on the ceiling, she tried to remember where she was and why. She turned her head and blinked at an incongruous tableau. Argent perched on Suuzu’s desk, still dressed in the phoenix’s clothes, calmly working his way through a large roll stuffed with noodles.

  How strange. Yakisoba bread was Akira’s favorite.

  Then the pieces of the previous day slid into place, and she sat up. “Good morning,” she murmured.

  “Did I wake you?” Her brother, who sported a bad case of bedhead, was wrestling rice balls out of tightly sealed packages. “Sorry. Starving.”

  Suuzu rose from the corner, bringing the baby. He quietly announced, “Actually, it is late afternoon.”

  With a smile for the snoozing child, Tsumiko shuffled carefully to the window and parted the curtain enough to peek outside. The bell tower at Saint Midori’s would soon be tolling vespers. “I guess you don’t necessarily need the jet to end up with jet lag.”

  Akira snickered around a too-large bite.

  From somewhere, Suuzu produced a comb, causing Tsumiko to wonder if he battled her brother’s cowlicks every morning. She wouldn’t be surprised, given how often Argent fussed with her own hair. For all she knew, there were whole chapter in reaver handbooks on the invasion of personal space—grooming, nestling, and the mutual baring of souls.

  “How do you feel?” asked Argent.

  “Fine.”

  His brows arched. “How do you feel?”

  She fiddled with her necklace. Was there a word that fit? After some consideration, Tsumiko ventured, “Closer.”

  He accepted that with a slow nod. “You should refresh yourself and rest. We may be here for a while.”

  That made sense. Michael and Sansa’s baby may have arrived, but their Amaranthine attendants would surely remain until the new mother was on her feet. She should text Michael. Let him know where they were. And in the meantime ….

  A sudden longing filled her, and she chose her words with care. “Argent, would it be possible for me to show you around Saint Midori’s?”

  “Yes, but I would prefer to wait until dark.” Indicating the mound of convenience store fare, he added, “You should eat.”

  While Tsumiko considered her options, Argent claimed the baby and the bed, sitting against the headboard and tucking the newborn inside the open front of his tunic. Taking bento and bottled tea, she sat on the floor beside them and poked at her meal.

  They had come so far—an uncomfortable journey, an emotionally-fraught night, another life in their care. Details came back to her, one memory flowing into the next. Scattered details that needed ordering, consideration, and prayer. The songs of trees and the emergence of tails. The scattering of forget-me-nots and the parting promise of a wolf. The drama of cousins and the traumas they’d endured.

  Pushing aside her empty tray, she glanced up to find Argent’s half-lidded gaze fixed upon her. Gone were all traces of his former animosity. Here she found nothing but patience and peace. Argent looked completely out of his element, but all the more relaxed for it. Maybe because he cared little for the creature comforts of Stately House. On a very basic level, Amaranthine looked at the world differently than humans.

  Tsumiko couldn’t help but wonder what he saw when he looked at her. But she was a little afraid of the answer. So she chose a different topic entirely. “We should name him.”

  Argent nodded. “As his closest kin, the task falls to you.”

  “Did you name Gingko?”

  “I did.”

  “You know, when I first heard his name, I thought it was Ginko.” She sketched kanji in the air. “Silver child.”

  “How prosaic.”

  “So … you named him for the tree?”

  “Clearly.” Arge
nt’s lips quirked. “The play on words pleased me, and … my childhood home was surrounded by a gingko grove. As a younger son of the Mettlebright clan, I planned to take their leaves for my crest.”

  Tsumiko thought she understood. The Hajime family had stolen Argent’s freedom and future. He’d lost all hope of a den of his own, a vixen for a mate, a lineage to wear the mark he’d chosen. And yet the son born during his enslavement bore his father’s crest in a different way. “Does Gingko know?” she asked.

  Argent looked away. “He knows his name.”

  “Does he know the reason for your choice?” At the fox’s continued silence, Tsumiko sighed. “You should tell him.”

  “Is that an order?” he asked lightly.

  She shook her head. “Only if you need the excuse.”

  “If you are so concerned about the goings on at home, perhaps you should check for messages.” He gestured to the freshly-pressed suit hanging against the wall. “Breast pocket.”

  Tsumiko retrieved the phone. As soon as she turned it on, it filled the room with a chorus of dinging alerts. She laughed at the sudden flood. All from Michael. “Baby pictures!”

  She hurried back to Argent so he could look over her shoulder as she flicked through innumerable snapshots of a baby with dark hair peeping out from under a pink cap. After a while, they all looked the same, but Tsumiko was fascinated by the other personages who appeared in the photographs. “Who’s this?”

  “Mare Withershanks, Sansa’s former mentor,” said Argent. “And she must be a birth attendant. Likely another from the herds.”

  Michael grinned up at the camera in half the pictures, looking rumpled and relaxed. And overflowing with pride and devotion.

  “They named her Lilya.” Tsumiko showed several pictures to Akira and Suuzu. “See? Here are Michael and Sansa. I guess you’d call them my nestmates.”

  Argent snorted.

  The prolonged slideshow came to a sudden stop. “Oh! Gingko is home.”