Ritsuko felt the weight of scrutiny from Mikani’s mother. “Look at the both of you. Did you bring her to see us on the back of a potato cart?”
“The potato cart was busy, we had to walk.” He grinned briefly, looking around. “Where are Karl and Mac?”
Daphne answered. She was shorter than Ritsuko and blond where her family was dark. “Karl’s out fishing. My Mac’s at the forge.”
Mikani nodded. “I’ll say hello to them later.”
“If you’ll pardon my saying so, my dear, you need a proper bath and some clean clothes.” Agatha Mikani frowned at her son, which made Ritsuko fight a smile. “You still have some things in your room. As for you, Celeste? I think you can wear one of Daphne’s old dresses. They don’t fit her anymore anyway.”
“Are you saying I’m fat, Mum?” But there was none of the offense she’d expect in Daphne’s tone, only genuine affection.
“Of course not. But you’ve had children. Come along, Celeste.”
Before she could offer more than an alarmed glance, Mikani’s relatives swept her away. She wasn’t used to the chatter, but it was all good-natured, and soon Agatha had her in a bath and was trimming up her messy hair, just as if this was normal. Ritsuko couldn’t remember ever being naked in a room with strange women before, but they acted like this was customary.
As if I’m family.
For obvious reasons, she didn’t protest.
• • •
FOUR HOURS LATER, they gathered around the table in the spacious dining room. The children had eaten earlier in the kitchen and gone to bed despite vigorous protests. Mikani offered to help, but his mother shooed him out of the kitchen. With Daphne and Helena’s help, she carried out platters of food for them to eat family style: lamb stew, roasted chicken and potatoes, green peas and onions, along with fresh bread. It smelled delicious and reminded him of so many meals eaten at this table over the years. For once, his father’s shadow didn’t fall across everything as he studied the smiling faces in the firelight.
Helena’s husband, Karl, a tall lean fellow a little younger than Mikani, was tidied up with his hair slicked back. Mac, Daphne’s man, was a burly, dark-haired blacksmith who crafted all the tools for the farm. The work had left his hands scarred and callused, his shoulders thick as a well-made door. Ritsuko had her hands folded in her lap, and she wore a gray dress. He couldn’t recall ever seeing it on Daphne, but it suited his partner. She was the picture of refinement amid his boisterous family, and he was surprised at how much it meant to see her here, as if his world was whole at last.
“That’s done it,” his mother said, blowing a wisp of hair out of her face.
Along with Karl and Mac, he stood until the women took their seats at the table. Seven of us. That’s supposed to be a lucky number, right?
The meal passed with friendly teasing and chatter. Ritsuko was quiet, taking it all in. He wondered if she found his relatives overwhelming. She’s not used to this. Things got embarrassing when his mother commenced telling stories from his childhood.
She concluded, “. . . and then, I came out of the bakery, and what did I see? Janus Mikani, racing down the street naked as the day he was born.”
“I only did that because Helena dared me. She promised me her share of pudding for a month.” Though he pretended chagrin, it was worth it to see Ritsuko smiling.
“Did you get it?” his partner asked.
“He got his hide tanned,” his mother said with a twinkle in her eyes.
“How old was he?” Ritsuko wanted to know, probably to picture the scene.
“Nine or ten,” Daphne replied.
Ritsuko’s smile widened into a grin. “I never did anything like that. My grandfather would’ve disowned me.”
“We never will,” said Mrs. Mikani.
Once everyone finished the butter cake, Mikani set down his coffee cup. It was time for explanations. He’d seen the questions in his mother’s eyes, but this was harder than he’d expected—to admit how dire the situation and how much he needed their help. When he’d left home, he had been running from his father’s ghost.
With a deep breath, he recounted their travels and troubles. Shocked exclamations rang out at every other sentence, including, “You did what?” from Helena.
Finally, he came to the end of the tale. He glanced over and met his mother’s gaze. “We decided to let things settle down in Dorstaad. Loison said he’d see to it that the Council couldn’t track us here . . . and I’m inclined to believe him. That said, we can be gone in a day or two—”
“Don’t be daft, Janus. This is your home. Of course you’re welcome, for as long as you need.” His mother looked at each of them in turn, making sure Ritsuko knew she was included in that statement.
His partner pressed her palm to her sternum, as if it hurt, and he thought he knew why. Since her grandfather’s death, she had been alone. No family. And to hear suddenly, This is your home, must feel startling. Painful even. Mikani wanted to reiterate the words. He didn’t, mostly because it had been a long time since he felt like he belonged anywhere. Even here.
But I belong with her, wherever that may be.
“Thank you,” Ritsuko said huskily. “But everyone must agree. I won’t endanger the children without parental consent.”
Mac nodded right away, the stout blacksmith tapping a thick finger on the table as he spoke. “We’ll keep you safe. Let those southern city fools come looking, and we’ll show them a proper Expanse welcome, we will.”
Karl seemed more reticent. “The men who will come hunting you, what kind are they?”
“I don’t know,” Janus said honestly.
He’d never heard of a crime like the one he and Ritsuko had pulled off. It was bigger than the penal system typically encountered. Men were shipped off to the farms for lesser offenses, and though executions were rare, they did happen.
And this is bigger still.
Helena thumped her husband on the arm, addressing her words to Mikani. “Don’t worry, little brother. We’ll keep the big bad men from finding you.”
She’s enjoying this far too much. I’ll never hear the end of it.
“You’re plotting to hide me in the compost heap, aren’t you?”
His sister smiled. “Of course not. I’d never do that . . . to Celeste.”
“I’ll help hide you,” Karl finally said. “And I’ll get you away if possible. But I won’t do anything to risk my little ones.”
Mikani nodded. “I’d expect nothing less.”
Afterward, everyone pitched in to tidy up the table and clean the kitchen. It wasn’t so in all households, but Mikani had grown up helping with what some men would call women’s work. A good thing, too, or I’d have starved. His father had always pitched in, too, when he was home. He remembered his saying, There’s plenty of work on a farm. No need to be particular about it.
The last dish was dried and put away when his mother kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
His sisters added their good-nights, and his brothers-in-law clapped him on the shoulder as they passed. In the fluttering lamplight, Ritsuko looked shocked. Her face was pale, and she didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands, now that the work was done.
She took a deep breath, then said, “I need some air.”
Mikani waited a few seconds before following her. Outside, it was chilly and clear, the stars visible as they rarely were in Dorstaad. Ritsuko stood with her hands wrapped around her arms as it to stave off the frost in the air. Without thinking much about the impulse, he put his arm around her shoulder. Because it’s cold. It occurred to him to take it one step further, and he shrugged out of his jacket to drape it around her.
“Better?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“So you survived meeting my family. There’s still time to go turn ourselves in rather than face another day with them, if you’d like.”
She cut him a reproachful look. “They’re lovely, and they cle
arly adore you.”
“Madness runs in the line. Come, or we’ll wake the little ones. Then Helena will have our hides. She’s worse than the Council, trust me.” He started across the field, toward the copse of trees bordering a small stream.
“Did you carve your initials into any of these trees?” Ritsuko’s tone was wistful, as if she’d only read stories about such things.
He smiled but didn’t answer until they reached the stream. “Once. It was a long time ago. There.” He pointed at a small carving high on the trunk of an old elm, almost faded away entirely with age.
To his surprise, she dug her fingers into the bark and scrambled up, using the lowest limb to pull herself into the tree, where she kept climbing until she was close enough to trace the weathered initials. “It must be nice to have roots sunk in so deep that you can leave for years and return to find your mark still upon a place.”
He looked back at the farm and over the fields all around them. There was enough moonlight to make out the far edge of the property, where the patch of woods he’d played in as a boy marked the start of their neighbor’s lands.
Before the old man left, I never even considered spending my life anywhere else.
“Honestly, I haven’t thought much about it. But I guess we all take the most precious things for granted sometimes.”
Acting on impulse, he scaled the tree he’d climbed so often as a boy and came to stand beside her. The view had changed a little, and he was taller, of course. Without telling her what he meant to do, he got out his pocketknife and dug into the tree, carving her initials next to his. He ached to do something else, something more, but this was what he felt would serve. Here. Now. But he hid a quiet ache, fired by seeing her surrounded by his family.
“There. Now you have roots, too.”
Her smile was worth everything. “Thank you.”
“I never thought I’d see you up a tree.” His heart squeezed in his chest, protesting the space between them.
“There have been lots of those moments between us over the years. Surprising, I can’t believe this sort of things.”
There have, indeed, Celeste.
She touched the “C” first, then the “R,” her face uptilted to the moon, and its light rained down silver, gilding the lines of her face. He could’ve drawn them with his eyes closed.
I want to kiss her.
The impulse passed. This wasn’t the time to complicate things, not when they had so many other problems barreling toward them like a wailing train.
If this is meant to be, our moment will come. I’ll get it right with her. I have to.
“What do you suppose will become of us? How bad will it be?” she asked.
He could’ve said so many things—that if he knew anything about the Houses, they loved coin and power. Their actions had cost Thorgrim and Skarsgard the most, but the ripples and consequences would take weeks and months to be fully felt as the elemental trade died down. While it was impossible to predict how Magnus would react, given their gains in Northport, the former two Houses would prove implacable enemies.
But maybe Olrik still feels grateful enough to help us . . . He wouldn’t count on it.
Aloud, he only said, “Whatever happens, at least we’re together.”
About the Authors
A. A. Aguirre is the pseudonym for Ann and Andres Aguirre, a husband-wife writing team. She specializes in compelling characters; he excels at meticulous world-building. By day, she’s a New York Times and USA Today bestselling novelist, and he is a pharmaceuticals tycoon.
Born in Mexico, Andres spent his early years traveling and getting in trouble everywhere else. Along the way, he got a degree from Pepperdine in economics and international business. Ann was born in the Midwest and has a degree in English literature from Ball State. She’s traveled less than Andres and gotten into less trouble, but scaling Machu Picchu should count for something, right? Now settled, if not fully domesticated, Andres lives with his love, Ann, their fantastic kids, three adorable cats, and two delightful dogs.
Together, they form Megatron. Or not. Actually, they write books. Visit them online at aaaguirre.com.
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