Papka

 

Kimiko woke to a soft tap coming from the wrong end of the room. Predawn gray showed at the edges of closed curtains, but her alarm hadn’t gone off. “Too early,” she mumbled.

The tap came again, and this time, she oriented on the sound. Someone was at the second-floor window. Well, that certainly narrowed the possibilities.

A soft chime sent Isla fumbling for her phone, and she squinted at the display. Her scowl vanished, and she bolted from her covers.

“What is it?” Kimiko asked.

“They need me!”

“Who …?” But the girl was already out the door with a bundle of clothing. A second later, Kimiko heard the bathroom door shut.

Another patient tap, and this time, Kimiko answered. Pulling aside the drape, she couldn’t help laughing. Opening the slider, she signaled her delight. “Good morning, Sensei.”

A formidable feline took up most of the lawn below, easily as tall as the house, despite his lazy slouch. Even in the dimness, she could detect the subtle sheen of pewter fur. Long whiskers swept outward, and intelligence gleamed in orange eyes.

Cold!

Hisoka’s breath was steaming in chill air, and Kimiko stole a blanket from her bed to wrap around her shoulders. “I’ve never been this close to anyone in true form before,” she eagerly confessed.

He blinked placidly.

It would have been easy to feel like prey trapped in a mouse hole, but fear was the farthest thing from Kimiko’s mind. She had to wonder how often someone so respected was told the simple truth. “You’re beautiful.”

Hisoka loomed nearer, and his nose bumped her forehead.

Every feline seemed to understand that compliments were their due. Strange to think that Hisoka Twineshaft was no different. Tucking her hands behind her back to resist temptation, Kimiko risked rudeness. “May I touch?”

A barely audible purr began deep in his chest. Permission? Any doubt was banished when one large paw settled lightly below the sill, wider than the window, velveted against violence. Had he tapped with a claw, or changed after knocking?

She placed her hands over his paw, as if meeting palms, but her fingers pressed deep into dense fur, soft as his gaze. Her trust pleased him as much as his presence awed her. Hisoka Twineshaft was important to everyone, but he was here for her. All the things she’d ever wanted—even impossible, unspecified hopes—were coming to pass because of this Amaranthine’s vision for the future. Hisoka’s presence made the Emergence personal. Because her future was no longer bound by traditions, expectations, or years.

“What am I going to do?” she whispered.

Power swirled and condensed as Hisoka assumed his speaking form. Crouching on her sill, he touched her shoulder, then brushed her cheek. “About what, Miss Miyabe?”

“How do you choose what to do when you have all the time in the world?”

“Whatever seems best.” He seemed utterly at ease on his narrow perch. “Short or long, lives brim with potential. What you choose is as important as what you refuse.”

“Are you a bachelor by choice?” Kimiko winced at her own audacity, already signaling apologies for crossing into intensely personal territory.

Hisoka waved aside her embarrassment. “Your curiosity is natural, given your arrangement with Eloquence. And your considerable research …?”

She followed his gaze to the stack of books on her desk—all borrowed from the archive, all containing annotated folk tales of a decidedly romantic nature. “Yes. Isla was up most of the night.”

“If memory serves, many of the Songs of the Amaranthine involve the comingling of races.” His eyebrows arched. “And as far as the old songs of the trees go, Golden Lyric is often, shall we say, robust in its descriptions.”

Kimiko’s face was burning. “Honestly, Sensei, it was research. For courting Eloquence.”

He smiled serenely. “Did I not say your curiosity was natural? I’m sure I did.”

“I wasn’t looking for erotic stories.”

“Yet I’m sure you found several.”

Taking an apologetic posture, she mumbled, “You have to admit, it’s a recurring theme whenever trees are concerned.”

“For good reason.”

Something about his inflection gave her pause. “Have you ever met a tree?”

Flared eyebrows lifted. “Only yours.”

“You know Kusunoki?”

“As do you.”

“Most everyone in Keishi knows about our tree.”

“Naturally.”

He was teasing her. Probably. Kimiko raked a hand through the morning mess of her hair and grumbled, “Isla’s never mentioned how difficult you can be.”

“She’s as devoted as her father. Which brings us to my reason for interrupting your repose. Is my apprentice still lazing abed?”

His voice was modulated to carry, and Isla bustled in. “I’m here! I’m ready!”

“So you are.”

To Kimiko’s surprise, Isla bounded to her mentor and leapt into his waiting arms. She looked back, happiness shining along with the stars in her eyes. “Come with us, Kimi! Papka is here!”

Hisoka arranged the girl against his side and extended his hand. “Shall we?” he invited.

As eager as she was to meet Isla’s famous father, it wouldn’t be in her pajamas. “I’ll be right there. Go on ahead.”

It wasn’t until they were gone that Kimiko realized how deftly Hisoka had sidestepped her questions. No wonder none of the ladies of his clan had gotten their claws into him.
 

Michael Ward set aside a large chunk of amber crystal in order to offer Kimiko his hands. “Good morning, Miss Miyabe. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

For someone whose ranking was so high, it was practically off the charts, the celebrated First of Wards was surprisingly unassuming. The father-daughter resemblance was very strong—blond curls, green eyes, and a genial brand of self-assurance.

“Thank you for welcoming Isla into your home.” Abandoning the formal greeting, he gathered her hands between his, giving them a paternal pat. “She speaks highly of you.”

He was easy to like, easy to trust. And maybe that was more important than titles and ranking. Leaning forward, she corrected him in conspiratorial tones. “She speaks highly of my archive.”

Michael laughed. “Both. And having met the one, I hope to beg an introduction to the other.”

“Does she get her love of books from you?”

“A fair accusation.” He flung out an arm to pull his daughter to his side. “But she’s more brilliant by far.”

“Papka,” Isla murmured in pleased protest.

“Then you shall both enjoy the riches of Kikusawa’s archive,” Kimiko promised. “It’s a treasury beyond compare. At least, that’s what my grandfather always claimed.”

“He would be correct.”

She turned at the new voice and fumbled for a greeting. In the end, all she managed was a respectful posture and a whispered acknowledgement. “Lord Mettlebright.”

Spokesperson for the fox clans, Argent Mettlebright was numbered among the Five. The Mettlebrights were winter foxes, so he was pale, with silver hair and light blue eyes. He wasn’t any taller than she, but his power and dignity were overwhelming. Argent Mettlebright towered.

“Oh, this is fortuitous! Argent’s been eager to meet you.” Michael’s cheerfulness had a determined quality, as if trying to balance out the aloof fox. “I’m quite sure he tagged along for no other reason than to snoop.”

“Tsk. Are you questioning my sigilcraft?”

Michael’s smile didn’t waver. “No, old friend. But I’ll question your manners if you do not show Eloquence’s suitor the courtesy she deserves.”

This guy’s diplomacy skills were rough-hewn, but effective.

Argent hummed, and Kimiko had never known a hum to communicate more skepticism.

However, he faced her and drawled, “So you are the suitor.”

Which is exactly how he came across during newscasts and interviews. Prickly, but flawlessly polite. Haughty, but not particularly hostile. Especially with Michael smiling over the exchange like a beneficent angel.

So she signaled a crisp affirmative. “Yes. I’ll be courting Eloquence Starmark.”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because that’s what he wants.”

Argent pressed, “And you?”

Kimiko hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. “I am looking forward to tomorrow night’s betrothal.”

Michael said, “I’ve been invited to attend the festivities surrounding your formal declaration.”

“We both have.” Argent reached for her hands, sliding his own into a supportive position, gently cradling hers. “While I am certain Harmonious would speak freely and at great length, I do not think Eloquence wants another dog sniffing too close to his den. If either of you wish to come to me with awkward questions, I promise to embarrass you with detailed advice of an intimate nature.”

She blinked. “You’re too kind.”

“On the contrary.” Argent gently pressed a crumpled slip of paper into her palm. “But she is.”

Kimiko clutched his gift to her heart. Lord Mettlebright had passed along his bondmate’s contact information. Any reaver would be glad to make such a rare and valuable connection. There were only a dozen beacons born in any generation. But she was interested in Lady Tsumiko for a very different reason. “Akira’s sister!”

This time, Argent’s hum managed to convey amusement … and approval.
 

When Quen reached the classroom that morning, he was already in high spirits before Suuzu met him at the door.

The phoenix pulled him aside and placed a chocolate bar in his hands. “From your suitor, with her compliments and a request to meet in the usual place after school.”

Quen flushed with pleasure at the token. Although he didn’t often eat sweets, he knew there was none finer than those crafted by Junzi. And she’d chosen one that bore the Starmark crest—copper foil shining proudly against a wide sleeve of dark brown paper. An appropriate gift, surely intended to honor his clan.

His brows drew together, and he murmured, “Do you think she’ll become a Starmark?”

Suuzu drew him further along the hall and traced a simple sigil upon their palms, guaranteeing their words stayed between them. Given how many sharp ears were nearby, Quen appreciated the phoenix’s discretion.

He answered with bland diplomacy. “Joining is the usual intent of courtship.”

“I mean our names. If she’s courting me, would I be expected to take the Miyabe name?”

“Hmm. I see what you mean. There are few precedents, if any.” Suuzu considered. “Taking into account both pack and public sentiments, I recommend she become a Starmark. For the press, for the peace, and for your pups. However, the decision is hers and yours.”

Quen added it to his mental list of all the things he needed to discuss with Kimiko. “There is so much I don’t know about her. So much she doesn’t know about me. And a thousand ways in which our best intentions could be misunderstood.”

“I know.” Suuzu tapped the chocolate bar. “I can tell you something about your suitor.”

Quen eased closer, signaling his interest.

“In the human culture of this area, a gift of chocolate has romantic overtones.”

“A human courting tradition?”

Suuzu nodded. “In general, Kimi likes snacks—both salty and sweet. Akira often remarks upon her adventurous choices.”

“Is that good?”

The phoenix pursed his lips. “I advise caution.”

That bad? It had never occurred to Quen that he might learn things about his future bondmate that might be considered unpalatable.

“On a more personal level,” continued Suuzu, “Kimi has a sentimental attachment to Junzi chocolate.”

Quen’s heart leapt, for Suuzu had doubled the value of his gift. While Quen didn’t crave sweets, he longed for conversation with Kimiko. Here was a promising avenue of inquiry. “Thank you.”

Suuzu led the way into the classroom. Eloquence immediately sought out his suitor. Kimiko was seated at her table, Isla perched on her knee. At the arch of his brows, the taller girl glibly signaled, brighten the wards.

Isla cheerfully added, the boundaries will hold.

Just then Tenma stooped to enter, Inti riding on his shoulders. Holding out both hands, Quen remarked, “You are redolent of monkey.”

Inti slithered into Quen’s embrace. “Inti is a monkey.”

Tenma shrugged. “Dog’s nestle. Monkeys tangle.”

“Jealous?” Inti twitched his tail under Quen’s nose.

“I do feel left out.” The young crosser was certainly pleased with this recent turn of events. Quen wanted to encourage the sense of belonging. Including Tenma in his invitation, he asked, “Will you stay in my den some night soon?”

“Not tonight,” said the monkey, as if he had a full social calendar to consider. 

Tenma seemed surprised. “Why not?”

Inti blinked innocently. “Reasons.”

Ms. Reeves entered, calling the class to order and announcing, “We are extremely privileged to have a guest lecturer for the day. Isla, perhaps you’d like to handle his introduction?”

While the girl began the long list of her father’s credentials, Michael Ward slipped into the room and scanned the class. Unassuming and amiable. And at the moment, overflowing with fondness for his daughter the diplomat.

Quen had spent the entire night watching over this man’s sleep from the safety of his arms. For a while, his denmates allowed the monopoly, but as dawn approached, others stole in and settled close by—Father and Laud, Hisoka and Lapis, Argent and Gingko, Kyrie and Ever, Merit and Boon. Drawn to the gentle lure of a starry, sleepy soul, trusted and trusting, warded yet whispering. Perhaps this was another kind of magic, the way Michael effortlessly bound their souls to his, yet left them free.

Somehow, Quen wanted to have this kind of pull and push with Kimiko. To bind her soul to his own and to honor her choices. Maybe then, she would develop that special breed of loyalty known as love.