by Forthright
For the first time since Tsumiko had met her, Brynn Fallowfield looked uncertain. “A second reason is that the method is not widely known. To be blunt, it has been kept secret.”
Argent inquired, “Should we consider this trust … or desperation?”
Tsumiko nudged him with an elbow. “You can trust us. What can we do to protect them both?”
“After recent events, Mare Withershanks briefed a few of us—her former apprentices in midwifery—with regards to children of mixed descent.”
“Recent events?” asked Tsumiko. “Do you mean the Emergence?”
“I’m referring to the birth of Harmonious Starmark’s son.”
“We heard a little about that.” Tsumiko stole a look in Argent’s direction. “They were on the news—the whole Starmark family.”
“Common knowledge.” With a dismissive snort, Argent stepped closer to the nurse. “I am more interested in this great secret.”
Brynn said, “The mother is a human whose time has slowed to match her bondmate’s.”
Argent’s stiffened. “How?”
“That which washes inland can be pulled back into the sea.”
“Meaning …?”
“We are able to give as easily as we take.” Nurse Fallowfield spread her hands wide. “You can lend Kyoko strength. Take the absent bondmate’s place. Tend to her.”
“No.”
So much for obeying orders. Tsumiko asked, “Is there no other way?”
Brynn’s calm crumbled a little at the edges. “Without tending, I don’t know how she’ll survive.”
Tsumiko turned to Argent. “And you …?”
“No,” he repeated. “Not willingly.”
“But why not?” Tsumiko asked, frustration tightening her voice. “I can help the baby, but I can’t do anything for Kyoko. You could.”
“I will not trade intimacies with one who looks upon me with dread.” Argent leveled a haughty look at Brynn. “Trust is at the very basis of tending. Would you have me force myself upon her like the brute who left her in this state?”
Nurse Fallowfield drooped.
Argent blandly continued, “If what you say is true, you are overlooking the obvious. Any reaver can tend any Amaranthine.”
In a flash, Tsumiko realized what he meant. Beauty in symmetry. Gifts freely given. She grasped at hope and took Brynn’s hand. “She likes you. She trusts you.”
“Mare Fallowfield, you are from the gentler clans—no claws to velvet, no fangs to bare. But you are not without strength. You will lend Kyoko what support she needs.” Argent leaned in, letting his voice drop. “Meanwhile, I will rob the whelp of its mother.”
FIFTY FOUR
Wolf on the Prowl
Kyoko struggled against everything—her tangled blankets, her endless contractions, her husband’s pleas, her cousin’s calm. She suffered Argent’s presence with increasingly ill ease, but she never realized what he was doing. In part, thanks to Brynn Fallowfield’s first cautious efforts at tending.
Tsumiko felt a whisper of the nurse’s essence falter and flow. And it was lovely—strong and peaceful, steady and insistent—but Kyoko shut her out. Until Brynn added a song. Her lullaby slipped past the fragile woman’s defenses, winding its way into her soul, shoring up her fading strength.
And into the lull stole a fox.
“Has she noticed?” Tsumiko whispered.
Argent’s silent laughter puffed lightly against her ear. “That I am closer than she might like? Or that I am the shutter to her meager light?”
“Both,” Tsumiko said. “I can always tell when you’re fiddling around.”
“You are wise to be wary. And generous beyond knowing.” Argent nuzzled her hair. “But no. She has lost sight of me, and the babe has lost sight of her.”
In hindsight, Argent’s solution really did seem the obvious course. While Brynn tended, he used his newfound talent for hiding a beacon’s brightness to banish all signs of Kyoko’s soul. So the infant could no longer sense their mother.
Contractions intensified. Intervals tightened. Stewart slipped into doctor mode, coaching Kyoko to breathe, to relax, to push. “Good!” he praised. “Again, darling, and you’ll be free.”
With a wild look in her eyes, Kyoko fought for freedom. And won.
Brynn’s song never wavered as she took the infant from Stewart, swabbing and swaddling the squirming child before thrusting the bundle into Tsumiko’s hands.
As doctor and nurse focused on Kyoko, Tsumiko retreated to the small sofa in front of the fireplace. Folding back the blanket, she made one discovery after another. Pointed ears and a strange roughness of skin, made more distinct by the streaking of blood. “A boy,” she whispered.
Argent joined her, bringing a towel, basin, and cloths. “There is little doubt to his provenance.”
She wetted a flannel to wipe away the mess, but some things didn’t wash away. “Oh,” she breathed. The rough patches formed a repeating pattern. “He has scales.”
“Which provide a clue.” Argent trailed the back of a finger across the lavender-edged scales at the baby’s temple. “A dragon’s coloring is hereditary.”
Tsumiko washed pale skin, finding plummy freckles. His fingers and toes were tiny and perfect. “Look, he has claws like yours,” she cooed.
Argent tucked a finger under a tiny palm. But she couldn’t be sure if his gaze lingered on the baby out of interest or because she’d commanded it.
Tucking the newborn close, she murmured, “You’re perfect. So precious.”
“You should not become attached.”
“This isn’t about me,” she argued. “He should know that he’s safe and welcome and loved.”
“I doubt his mother would agree.”
Tsumiko glanced over her shoulder. “How is she?”
“She will live. He will live,” said Argent. “An unusual outcome.”
“A good one.”
Argent asked, “Are you tending to him?”
“Not intentionally. But I think he’s taking what he needs.” Tsumiko paused, her attention turning inward. “I can’t feel the pull, so it can’t be much. Won’t he need milk, though?”
“Naturally.” Argent rubbed at the little one’s cheek.
The baby turned his head, mouth opening, hand reaching. And his eyes blinked open, fixing hazily on Tsumiko’s face. They were the deep red of garnets, with the slit pupils of an Amaranthine.
“Hello, there,” she said softly. “You were very brave today.”
“Tsk. Do not become attached.”
Tsumiko chose to ignore him. The downy hair she’d washed earlier had begun to puff out as it dried. “Is it just me, or is his hair purple?”
“His appearance will be striking. All dragons are showy.”
“Beautiful.” She carried him closer to the fire, confirming the distinctly purple cast to the baby’s smudge of dark hair. He winked and yawned, and she smiled and kissed him.
Argent sighed noisily.
“The wards!” Brynn Fallowfield turned from her patient. “Someone’s coming. Someone’s here.”
A knock sounded from outside, and for a moment, no one moved. Weren’t they on the second floor?
Growling softly, Argent strode to the heavy drapes along one wall, which covered a set of doors leading out onto a balcony. He tripped the catch, and Naroo-soh entered.
The wolf bowed low. “Pardon my intrusion, Dr. Smythe. I came to offer my assistance, but I see you are well-attended.”
Tsumiko flinched, for her bracelet was gone, along with the secret of her true strength.
Kyoko whimpered, and Naroo-soh showed his palms. “It is only me, lady.”
“I remember,” she answered. “But I would rather forget.”
“I am here in an unofficial capacity, to speak for my pac
k,” said Naroo-soh. “We would gladly give a place to one who has struggled so hard for life and breath. But perhaps this is for the best.”
“This?” asked Stewart.
“This lady,” he replied, easing to Tsumiko’s side. “I fear if I took him from you, he would cry over the loss of light like a cub on the night of the new moon.”
Brynn spoke up. “You planned to take the child?”
Naroo-soh’s tail switched. “Better wolf pelts than lab coats.”
“That is your unofficial opinion?” Argent inquired.
The wolf eyed him sharply. “At this point, my opinion is of least importance. Form yours quickly. The vans are not far behind me.”
“Who’s coming?” Stewart asked.
“Reavers,” Brynn said, with obvious distaste. “To save your wife’s life, they planned an … extraction.”
“On whose authority?” the young doctor blustered.
“Mine.” Every eye turned to Kyoko, who shrank against her pillows. She refused to meet anyone’s gaze.
“If the rumors are true, the In-between is eager for hybrid specimens,” said Naroo-soh.
Argent took up a position at Tsumiko’s shoulder. “Are you not helping them?”
“This is personal. I helped this woman. I am willing to help her child.” Naroo-soh’s tail puffed, but his voice remained pleasant as he held out his hands. “May I meet your little cousin, Miss Tsumiko?”
She hesitated.
“I will return the child to you unharmed,” he pledged. “This is for the sake of my investigation.”
At a nod from Argent, Tsumiko relinquished the baby. To her amusement, Naroo-soh clucked and fussed as he untucked the newborn. He also growled and sniffed, scrutinized the pattern of scales, and distractedly addressed Argent. “His eyes?”
“Red.”
“That narrows the field.”
“Considerably,” agreed Argent.
Neatly securing the baby’s blankets, Naroo-soh cradled him against his chest. “Speak your mind, fox. Would you harbor a half-dragon?”
Blue eyes narrowed. “If that is my lady’s wish.”
Tsumiko stared at the floor for several moments. Could she accept such a responsibility, which would surely bring its share of complications? Not to mention danger. But the prospect didn’t frighten her. On the contrary, she caught a glimpse of the very thing she’d been craving. Purpose.
Argent sighed and spoke again. “I believe you will find us uniquely suited to the task. Provided all parties are in agreement.”
“Take it.”
At the sound of Kyoko’s voice, everyone turned.
The new mother leaned into her pillows, limp and pale. “Take it,” she repeated.
Tsumiko crossed to the bed. “Don’t you want to see your son?”
Kyoko’s gaze never strayed to the child still resting in Naroo-soh’s big hands. “I don’t want it, but I don’t want it used as I was.”
“Are you sure?” Tsumiko asked, glancing uncertainly at Stewart. Did he still think her a child? “You barely know me.”
Kyoko shrugged mulishly. “Whether it goes with you or goes with them, it’s going. Take him.”
Finding a measure of hope in Kyoko’s first use of him, Tsumiko smiled. “I promise he’ll be safe.”
Naroo-soh announced, “They are here.”
Tsumiko hurried to the window, where Argent already peered past the curtains. The lights of three separate vehicles jounced along the driveway, flashing between the trees. When white panel vans pulled to a stop in the circle out front, she shrank back. “What can we do?”
Argent calmly inquired, “What is your wish?”
Could it be that simple? Command him, and obedience would open some miraculous exit? Tsumiko shook her head. “But we can’t just go. They’ll be looking for Kyoko’s baby.”
“Tsk.” Argent cast about, then snagged a fussy throw pillow from the sofa. Gutting it, he strode to the bed. Or more correctly, the discreet bundle resting at its foot. He knotted bloody clothes and afterbirth into the pillow casing, then offered the limp bundle to Stewart. “The illusion will fool them long enough for you to insist upon a proper burial.”
Naroo-soh grunted, and Tsumiko gasped. Because Argent held a second baby, a perfect replica of Kyoko’s child. But this one was limp and matted by mucus and blood. Stillborn.
Stewart gingerly took the doppelganger.
Argent continued, “Your wife needs tending and protection. Insist upon retaining Mare Fallowfield. They will think themselves possessed of an insider. And you will retain a means of communication with and information from the In-between.”
Brynn said, “Good advice.”
“Take it.” Argent leveled his gaze on Tsumiko. “And you, take what is yours.”
Tsumiko crossed to the wolf.
“Your new mother may be small, but she rivals the moon. Bask in her light and grow strong.” Naroo-soh settled the infant back in Tsumiko’s arms, then addressed Argent. “We will meet again.”
“That will not be necessary.”
“But it is inevitable.” With a cocky smile, he said, “Farook-kel is my younger brother.”
Argent blinked. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“Not everyone who runs with our pack is a wolf.” Naroo-soh touched the baby’s forehead as if delivering a benediction. “This one would have been welcomed. Our first dragon, but not our first crosser.”
“We are leaving,” snapped Argent.
Naroo-soh lightly tapped his own shoulder, then placed a hand over his heart. “For the sake of all we have in common, I will cover your tracks.”
FIFTY FIVE
By Definition
Argent kept a hand on Tsumiko’s elbow, guiding her into the icy darkness of the snowy balcony. Once the door clicked shut behind them, he bent to murmur in her ear. “You still have not given me any orders, my lady. What is your wish?”
“I want to bring him home,” she replied. “Can we go home?”
“Certainly.” Gathering her into his arms, he shot up, straight as an arrow into thin air.
Clouds quickly swallowed them. But would their cover be enough to hide them from trained reavers? She raised her voice to be heard over the rush of wind. “Do you think we were seen?”
He smirked confidently.
Tsumiko shivered at the winter night’s bite and curled protectively around the baby. Without time to retrieve her coat, they were making do with a red velvet coverlet borrowed from Kyoko’s bed and a cashmere throw that had been artistically strewn over the sofa. “Will the cold hurt him?” she asked.
“You are more fragile than he.” Silver fur stole around her feet and shoulders as Argent unleashed his tails. And he began to descend.
“Where are we?”
“No place of consequence.” He set down in an empty field, partially sheltered from the wind by the roll of surrounding hills. Letting her down, he straightened the drape of her blanket. “I need clarification, mistress. You have given me too much leeway.”
His tone was lightly mocking. She might have worried that he was annoyed by her sudden acquisition of a newborn except … he seemed to be treating this like a game. Was he actually enjoying the sudden turn of affairs?
Argent’s brows arched. “You have asked me to take you home.”
“Yes.”
“There are many ways I could interpret home—the country for which you carry a passport, the estate you so recently inherited, the school where you grew up.”
In other words, if she’d been any of his past mistresses, he would have seized an opportunity to misconstrue her meaning. Of course she’d been thinking of Stately House, but Argent’s inflection made her curious. “How would you define home?”
“A fox’s home is with those he considers denmates
. So by my definition, your home is with Akira, the brother you hold dear.”
She swallowed hard, recognizing the implicit offer. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her, but she missed Akira. And now that she was thinking clearly, she remembered that Michael and Sansa had guests. They couldn’t return to Stately House until the coast was clear.
“Argent, does that mean home for you is Gingko?”
“That would be a logical assumption.”
“Do you know where Gingko is hiding?”
“No.”
“Then, please. I want to go to my brother.”
Argent inclined his head. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“I must fly high and fast. It will be too cold for you.”
She tugged her meager covering more snugly around her shoulders, waiting to see what his solution would be.
“I will carry you in my mouth.” Face straight, he added, “Under my tongue, to keep from swallowing you whole.”
Images from the previous night’s dream reared up in her memory, but she only wavered for a moment. “If you think that’s best,” she agreed. “I’m sorry if we taste bad.”
“I will be swift.” Argent caressed her cheek and stepped back so he could transform.
. . .
During their homeward journey, Tsumiko found new sympathy for Jonah. The belly of his whale couldn’t have been any more comfortable than a fox’s mouth, especially since she now knew that many such beasts had enjoyed devouring beacons and babies. One gulp, and they could be gone.
At the very least, their trip was indeed swift. The sun had yet to make an appearance when Argent spat her, queasy and moist, upon an empty lakeshore.
“Thank you,” she mumbled as he helped her stagger to her feet.
“You endured that rather well.” Argent plucked at the saliva slick hair clinging to her face. His hands were shaking. “I apologize for the ordeal.”
“We’re all right.” Her teeth were already chattering. “At least it was warm.”
He wrapped her in his suit jacket and hauled her into his arms. Already on the move, he murmured, “Bear with it a little while longer. There is Keishi.”