Suitor

 

“Come inside where it’s warm,” Quen offered. Although he suspected the cold wasn’t responsible for the sudden change in Kimiko’s pallor. Her scent, her posture, her searching gaze—their underlying confusion was unanimous. At least there was no sign of fear or annoyance. She would hear him out.

But she hadn’t lost the trail. “Why would you hold me to this?”

He hesitated. He hedged. “Am I unsuitable?”

Kimiko waved aside his attempt at distraction. “You’re a Starmark. You’re probably going to be one of the world’s most eligible bachelors after graduation. It’s my suitability at question.”

“Because you’re human?”

She seemed baffled. “Your Dad obviously doesn’t have a problem with humans in a general sense. But he was in love.”

“And you’re not.” Quen had a feeling this was going very poorly. Was Kimiko the kind of girl who needed to be charmed … or convinced … or cornered?

“Most reavers don’t have that luxury.” She retreated, but only from the draft coming through the partially open door. “Isn’t an emotional connection considered essential for Amaranthine bonding? Especially for canines. You mate for life.”

The truth was not a terrible one, but it made him feel ungrateful. How to explain? “My role within the pack is … unique. I will not take a bondmate. So this is the only den I will know.”

Kimiko’s brows furrowed. “I know dragons have celibate males, but … not you guys. Then again, I thought the clans didn’t go in for war. You’ll make a lot of people nervous if they ever see you like this.”

His armor. His sword. Quen winced. “Please, don’t mention any of this to anyone.”

“I won’t,” she said simply.

And perhaps because she didn’t ask for more, he gave it. “Dogs have never made war against humans, but we have always defended our dens and our allies. My uncle put me in this for a special occasion.”

She brightened. “Because of the Star Festival?”

“In a way.” This week did hold significance for the pack. Doubly so, now. “Today marks my attainment.”

“Congratulations!” Her hands fluttered through an eclectic series of compliments, some of which didn’t actually apply. Especially the one about antlers. But each conveyed an appropriately celebratory note in keeping with one’s rite of passage. “The Starmark pack is stronger for your place in it.”

Her enthusiasm brought a flush of pleasure, but Quen needed to tell the rest. “I waited a long time for Dad’s acknowledgement. I don’t have my brothers’ height or breadth. I’m … undergrown.”

She looked him up and down, and his insides curled miserably. But he wanted her to know these things, because they were part of the reason he needed her agreement.

Kimiko said, “I never gave it much thought. You’re still taller than the humans. Except Tenma.”

He sighed. There was little use pointing out that members of his clan had some of the largest statures—in both speaking and true forms—and that her people tended to be small. If breeding held true, Ever would certainly outstrip him, for Anna’s build and coloring showed she came from Scandinavian stock.

“And I’m older than you.”

Kimiko actually looked insulted. “Hardly news.”

Quen closed his eyes. “I have twice the years of any Amaranthine in our classroom.”

“Oh. Oh! That’s what Ever meant!” Kimiko’s fingers settled lightly on his arm. “He seemed to think you were unhappy. And he wanted you to have a big boy gift.”

“And you were his choice for me.” He caught her hand but held it loosely. “Or rather, he wanted you to choose me.”

 She didn’t resist when he threaded his fingers with hers. But her entire attitude was pointedly neutral. “Why won’t you tell me why?”

“Will you keep a confidence?”

“Yes.”

He wanted to pull her closer, but armor was far from welcoming. So he bowed until his forehead rested against hers. “My place in the family is traditional. I am set apart to serve the pack, not myself. And so I cannot seek a mate. But sometimes, people like me will attract the interest of another.” Quen chose not to add that this exception usually applied to females of exceptional beauty. “I cannot court, but I can be courted.”

Kimiko hummed softly. “Wouldn’t it be better to wait for some nice lady dog to realize she could have a Starmark for her very own?”

“That won’t happen, Kimiko Miyabe.” He swallowed against the lump building in his throat. “Most see my role, not me. And even if they did see me, they would not give chase.”

She didn’t speak, but she seemed offended on his behalf.

“There’s a reason my older brothers call me runt.” Did he really have to say it? Quen muttered, “Females of breeding age are all taller than me.”

Kimiko’s eyes slid shut, and her other hand covered their linked ones. “Does that mean, that you think I’m your only chance? Because … I’m not. One word from your father, and the heralds would be delivering marriage offers by the thousands. You’d have your pick of beauties and beacons.”

“I’m already pitied in private; don’t suggest public shaming.” He rubbed his cheek against hers in silent plea. “Ever gave me to you. I need no other.”

She was smiling, but not happily. “I need to tell you some things, too. For instance, my mother is the biggest gossip in Keishi, so publicity is practically guaranteed. And I also have a duty to my family. I’m supposed to improve the Miyabe bloodline by marrying a reaver of pedigree. And I can’t leave Kikusawa because my people are shrinekeepers.”

Quen didn’t want to hear reasons, no matter how reasonable.

She paused. “But …”

His heart lurched.

“But if I understand your situation clearly, this chance is once-in-a-lifetime. I think I can convince my family that it’s in their best interest for me to have a Starmark of my very own.” Kimiko’s previous calm grew increasingly flustered. “If you’re actually serious.”

He couldn’t quite speak, but he knew a dozen ways to beg that required none. By the fifth, she was smiling. By the eighth, she caught his hands.

“Enough.” Her face had flushed, and her heart had found a quicker pace. “If you’ll help me settle matters with my family, I agree to become your suitor.”

Eloquence didn’t even care that she’d set conditions on her offer. He would fulfill every requirement. Gladly.

“And … can we talk about this more? Another time, of course.” She pulled free and eased toward the door, apology in her posture. “I have work. At the shrine. Festival stuff.”

“I’ll find you at school,” he promised. “Only … one more thing.”

She waited.

“It’s traditional for a couple to signify their intent to proceed with a show of … mutual satisfaction.”

“Oh. Sure.” And she thrust out her hand.

Eloquence guessed he’d put it too delicately. He accepted the handclasp with as much poise as he could muster, but his disappointment must have shown. 

“Am I meant to kiss you?” The way her eyes were sparkling, she’d known all along.

“It would be traditional.”

Kimiko’s expression turned wry. “You know, I’ve been mistaken for a boy ever since I was small. I’m going to be teased so much for taking the manly role of suitor. But I won’t mind if you don’t.” And to his amusement, she swept into a courtly bow over his hand. “Forgive my lack of eloquence; words fail in the presence of such beauty. Outshine the brightest stars and guide my way, for I cannot see the path ahead.”

How she’d known the traditional form to use, he couldn’t guess. Did reaver books include chapters on wolvish pledges? More intriguing was the playful use of his name and clan history and the teasing lilt to her delivery. For all her chivalrous posturing, she had a female’s wiles.

Quen really wanted a taste, to see if his already-simmering interest would roll into full boil, but the only kiss he received was on the back of his hand.

And then she was gone.