Her Pursuit

 

After classes dismissed for the day, Quen wanted nothing more than to rush to the Kith shelter ahead of Kimiko. But Inti wrapped himself around his head and shoulders, seeking refuge from Michael, who advanced with palms upraised.

“Now, my young friend,” coaxed Michael. “I’m not anyone to fear.”

“This guy’s like family to me!” Akira gestured broadly. “Our home’s filled with crossers.”

Isla crowded close on Quen’s other side. “Come down, Inti. My Papka can be trusted.”

Fingers drummed on a point between Eloquence’s eyebrows.

He looked up into the impish crosser’s wary face. “Yes, partner?”

“Dogs trust carefully?”

Quen patted the monkey’s throttling tail. “We trust our noses more than words.”

Inti’s nostril’s twitched.

Although he was skirting the question Inti actually wanted answered, Quen thought it best to make a few things clear. “Humans can’t hide their scent any more than reavers can hide their souls.”

“Wards!” Inti jabbed a finger at Michael.

The reaver lifted the wrist displaying a strand of heavy amethyst beads. “I’m not hiding anything, Inti. My wards are a courtesy. Otherwise I tend to become a distraction.”

“And mine keep my soul in check.” Isla wrinkled her nose. “Since I’m still in training, they’re for your protection.”

“Reasons,” muttered Inti.

Eloquence squeezed his passenger’s ankle. “My senses are keener than you might have realized. Humans can’t hide anything, and half-humans can’t hide much.”

Inti’s gaze dropped.

Point made. Quen asked, “Do you trust me?”

The monkey crosser’s grip tightened, then slowly relaxed. “Yes, yes. But Tenma is best.”

“Good.” Quen reached up to muss Inti’s hair. “Then trust me. Michael is my best.”

“Lies!”

More amused than affronted, Quen said, “I’m not lying.”

“No, no,” agreed Inti. “You’re late.”

Had the brat had been delaying him this whole time? Growling and giving the monkey’s hair an additional roughing, he lifted. This time, Inti let go. Dumping the snickering boy in Michael’s arms, Quen strode for the door.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” Isla called sweetly.

Eloquence didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back, but he heard Inti answer for him.

“Reasons.”
 

She was already there. He’d made her wait.

Dismissing his apologies, Kimiko announced, “I won’t be in class tomorrow, so I need to explain everything now.”

Quen sank to the straw between Edge and Flay, pulling her down to his side. “Is anything wrong?”

She shook her head. “Mama seems to think we need all day to fancy up. She’ll probably attack my cuticles and smear mud on my face and pluck things. I swear, if she goes after my eyebrows, I will lock myself in the archive.”

Eloquence considered Kimiko’s face with careful neutrality. “Our courtship will involve … eyebrows?”

“Not if I have any say in the matter. Never mind that part.” She waved this aside—even though she’d brought up the entire matter—and frowned in concentration. “I wanted to talk about the courting tradition I chose, so you know what to expect.”

“Please,” he urged.

Kimiko rubbed at the side of her face, as if to discourage the color rising there. “I wanted something that made sense for me, but I also wanted something that would please you. And so far the only thing you’ve asked for is ….”

He had no trouble recalling his plea for a taste. “Kisses are traditional.”

“Exactly. And for me, trees are traditional. In my family, special occasions have always taken place under our shrine’s tree.” With a shy glance, she said, “I’m going to borrow from the tale, ‘The Wolf and the Moon Maiden,’ a love story involving an Amaranthine and an Impression. To prove his devotion, they complete something called the Cycle of Moons.”

Eloquence was already nodding. This was familiar territory for him, since Uncle Karoo-ren had faithfully taught him the wolf lore of the Ambervelte pack, his mother’s people. “Twelve pledges sealed by twelve kisses.”

Her hand found his. “Is it a good idea?”

“Certainly. You’ve found a way to combine your family’s traditions with my people’s lore. I’m willing, and Father will undoubtedly be pleased.” Quen only saw one potential problem. “Do you wish to change locations, so that the feast takes place under your chosen tree?”

Kimiko grimaced. “Better not. Mama is both stir-crazy and starstruck. She’s looking forward to visiting your home.”

“Dinner for all at the Starmark compound, with your declaration of intent before a smaller group at Kikusawa Shrine afterward.”

“Unless it’s too much trouble …?”

Quen smiled. “Make your wishes known to your go-between, and I’ll do the same. Between them, Twineshaft and Farroost will take care of everything.”

“Oh, of course. Yes. That’s a good idea.” She laughed a little, seemingly at herself, and said, “That just leaves one other detail.”

“Can I help?” He was having trouble assigning a meaning to the shifts in her scent. They hadn’t spent enough time together. Should he suggest more interaction, or would that create new problems in the form of public scrutiny?

Kimiko faced him squarely. “I have a question, and while everyone has been more than helpful, this is something I’d rather deal with in private.”

“As you like, Kimiko.”

She muttered, “This is embarrassing. And I’m nervous.”

Quen’s impulse was to get closer, but he kept still. “I appreciate your trust.”

She gave in with a flurry of small gestures, mingling apologies with pleas for patience. “I know how to carry myself in normal conversations with Amaranthine from just about any clan. Which means I know enough to know that I don’t know enough.”

“About …?”

Kimiko closed her eyes and continued. “When it comes to Amaranthine culture, a kiss can mean many different things—greeting, apology, gratitude, submission. Requests, pledges, claims. It’s all in the nuance.”

He could see where this was headed.

“And that nuance is all in the context, posture, delivery, duration.” She was watching him through her lashes. “I’m going to kiss you in front of an audience, and most of them are going to be searching for meanings. Will you please help me? I don’t want any trace of embarrassment or caution or fear to color what should be a glad moment.”

Kimiko was right. This was important. Quen elbowed Edge, who liked her list and was cheerfully expounding on the themes of posture, delivery, and duration. “I’m willing.”

“Thanks.” Her shoulders squared. “So … will we both be standing?”

Rising, Quen helped her to her feet. She settled immediately into an attentive, expectant posture, and for the first time, he didn’t take her stance for granted. Kimiko moved well—fluid, fluent. “You’ve been doing this all along.”

The answering tilt of her chin was perfect.

“I didn’t even notice,” he admitted abashedly. Was this why the Nightspangle pack had singled her out? Was it why he’d felt he could trust her?

“I’ll consider that a compliment.” She offered him her palms. “Even so, a lesson in canine nuance would be much appreciated.”

His pulse quickened. “May I touch?”

She acquiesced without a word.

Heart light, he coached her through three greetings that displayed varying degrees of affection, the chaste caress of contrition, and a grateful kiss that lost its way. Kimiko had taken inspiration from romance lore, and she’d come asking for courteous intimacies. His blood was already singing. His awareness blurred at the edges.

Edge’s tail began a steady thump.

Flay sneezed. Pointedly. Not the time for trysting, pup.

Quen reluctantly pulled away, easing back a step.

Kimiko touched her lips. “Are you sure that was just thank you?”

“No.” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Unless it was, ‘Yes, thank you. More, please.’”

“Should I consider that a compliment, too?”

“Please do.” It was better than he deserved. Here was willingness and trust, but he could feel her studious distraction. She wanted to understand the forms. He needed to teach without taking.

Kimiko asked, “What am I supposed to do with my hands?”

Eloquence brightened, for he craved her touch. Taking her wrists, he guided her hands through a variety of simple messages and cues. As he’d discovered with Tenma, it was difficult to put the subtle significances into words.

“Another kind of request?” Kimiko curved her fingers as he’d done.

“No, a reiteration, usually following a refusal. I call it the pudding please.” Quen smiled at her bafflement. “Ever adores sweets, especially milk pudding. This is how he begs for a second serving.”

Understanding dawned, and Kimiko’s fingers glided along his jawline, sure as her meaning. “Is there a third level for cheeky beggars?”

“Although I cannot remember, Uncle Laud swears I perfected ten degrees of please when I was a pup.”

Kimiko was smiling again, encouraging him with her interest. “What did you beg for?”

“A pet.”

“Like a kitten?”

He huffed. “Nothing so easily acquired. I wanted a pet constellation. And to tame the north wind. And I begged for a briner tank.”

“Stories from Amaranthine lore.” Her gaze turned inward as she stroked his cheek. “I used to want to go on quests—to find the hidden groves, to uncover a clutch of dragon eggs, to rescue a fallen star.”

Quen leaned into her touch. “So you’re an adventurer at heart?”

“No. Not really.” Kimiko retreated, her hands dropping to her sides. “I loved my grandfather, and I loved his stories. It’s my job to preserve them, not pursue them.”

“Then it’s a good thing that you’ve chosen to court me with kisses rather than gifts.” His fingers wheedled lightly along her jaw, and he added a pudding plea. “Otherwise, I may have sent you chasing after Impressions to impress me.”

“Is that how you refuse a suitor, by giving them an impossible task?”

“Perhaps. But that is not our situation.” He reached for her hands, pulling her back into contact. “Kimiko, what is the underlying message you want to send during your declaration?”

“Something confident … respectful … and appropriately flattering. And specifically canine. I don’t want to insult your clan by complimenting your plumage or purr.”

The first two were simple enough. He guided her through postures, showing her the difference between his stance and hers. For this ceremony, it was his to await, hers to initiate. Which only left the flattery. Something he wasn’t used to receiving. “Compliments can take any form. Did you have something in mind?”

“I could state the obvious—beauty and good breeding. But that’s not very personal.” Kimiko’s eyes had taken on a sparkle. “But I probably shouldn’t call you an amiable slacker with a soft spot for crossers.”

He blinked. He blinked again. “That’s what you think of me?”

“It’s something I’m certain of, and it’s something I like about you.”

Quen had thought Kimiko was teasing, but she remained in the stance he’d just demonstrated—confident, respectful. She was serious?

“You adore Ever. You’re patient with Inti. And you want a family.” Kimiko’s gaze didn’t waver. “Isn’t fatherhood part of the reason you consider me suitable? Our children will be crossers. Ever won’t be alone.”

Astonishment rivaled with dismay. “I do want children. I do. I always have. But I’ve never thought of you as … as breeding stock.”

Kimiko’s laugh had a wry twist. “Eloquence, I’m a reaver. My worth to the In-between is a matter of record, based almost entirely on my breeding potential.”

He needed to correct her. He needed to be clear. But fear was boiling up inside, stealing his ability to speak. Devotion and fidelity were a mate’s due. Yet she saw herself as a means to an end. Would Kimiko understand if he told her otherwise? Or should he show her?

She was retreating again, closing off.

“W-wait,” he stammered. “Do you know how to tend?”

“I’m licensed, but my resources are minimal.” Her body language shifted—caution, reluctance, wariness. “Reavers of my rank risk rapid depletion.”

Eloquence sank to his knees, passive, submissive. “I don’t want to take. I want to give.”

“I don’t understand.”

“A human bondmate must be tended. You’re a reaver, which means our souls can meet.” He fumbled for better words. “Meet with me here.”

After a lengthy silence, she asked, “How?”

“May I touch?”

“Yes.”

Rising up on his knees, he slid his arms around her waist. “Nothing will happen at first. I’ll leave myself open. Allow the connection and use it to find me.”

“Where will you be?”

“Right here.” Eloquence hid his face against her belly. Voice muffled, he promised, “I’ll be waiting here.”

Her hands settled lightly on his shoulders. “Like tending?”

Quen’s attention had already turned inward, but he nodded. Her winter tunic was soft, and her warmth so close. It was all he could do to resist nuzzling.

She did not keep him waiting.

Kimiko’s soul was neatly defined, a quality he’d come to associate with training. He teased at the edges of her awareness, alerting her to his presence and inviting more interaction. To his relief, she didn’t shy away. Quen found her courage appealing.

Her soul didn’t dazzle like the reavers who usually found their way into Harmonious Starmark’s home. Her essence was taut and sweet, with the faint resonance, a single note, like the fading tone of a bell. The right crystal could amplify that power. With time and patience, he might be able to increase her modest reserves.

Would that please her? He wanted to please her.

As a sense of expectancy filtered through their tentative connection, he was startled to realize that nothing kept him at bay—no wards, no barriers. Were all reavers of her rank left to their own devices? Quen’s protective instincts surged with the need to see her safe.

“What’s wrong?” Kimiko whispered.

He lifted his face. “You’re so vulnerable.”

“Far from it. You should see the added security at our place.”

“Personally,” he clarified.

“It’s not a problem.” She smiled and touched his hair. “You’d be surprised how safe most of us are, living beneath the notice of peer and predator alike.”

Quen wrapped his arms more securely around her. “I could give you a sigil to carry.”

“Our Amaranthine classmates would notice. It would lead to questions.”

“I’ll ask Michael to create something.”

“That would be easier to explain.” Kimiko tugged his braid. “But I wish you’d explain what I’m supposed to be doing right now.”

He hadn’t meant to interrupt. “All you need to do is accept.”

Kimiko shifted in his grasp, trying to communicate, but he had her by the hips. Like him, she had to resort to words. “Accept what?”

“Me.” That came off sounding more profound than he intended. “Let me tend you, Kimiko.”

Her brows drew together. “You’re offering me my first taste?”

Quen hadn’t considered this situation in those terms, but she was right. “Just a taste. With your permission.”

Kimiko carefully pulled away, but then knelt with him. “Ready.”

Their hands sought each other. Their eyes closed.

He liked this calm, this closeness. But they needed trust to run deeper, bringing her light into his darkness, spangling his soul. Eloquence slowly enveloped her, tuning the howl of his wilder instincts to the note he’d found earlier. Harmonizing at first, then locking into unison.

She gasped.

Recalling all the ways Michael had been gentle with him, Quen held back all but the barest hint of his hopes, woven with a whisper of the awe he’d felt at finding a star-strewn comb upon his palm. He would be hers. He had been chosen.

Kimiko murmured his name.

“Yes?”

“Is it always so …?”

Eloquence held her close, touched her hair, kissed her cheek, and waited. So much depended on her next word. Like the grades he received in his new school. Like the ranking assigned to every reaver. Someone else was about to determine his worth.

But she didn’t pluck a word and pin it to him.

“I think,” she began solemnly. “I think I underestimated you, Eloquence Starmark.”

Something in her gaze thrilled him. It was as if she were seeing him for the first time, and it left him feeling exposed … yet hopeful.

“And I think,” she continued, “that I may have underestimated myself.”

“Oh?”

Kimiko hummed an affirmative. “As your suitor, I think I’d even tackle an impossible task in order to impress you.”

“Because you like a challenge?”

“Because I like you.” Her smile turned smug. “And because someone already did the hard part for me.”

That threw him off. “What part?”

“Your pet. I can make your childhood dream come true.”

Quen realized she must be joking. “You have a briner tank tucked away somewhere?”

“No. But we keep the north wind in a bottle.”

A fanciful notion. Nuzzling her cheek, he murmured, “A fortuitous happenstance. I can only declare myself suitably impressed. Will you demand an impossible task in return?”

Kimiko hesitated, then shook her head.

“What?” He coaxed with a pudding please. “What is my lady’s wish?”

“I think,” she said slowly, still serious. “I think it would be wonderful if someone found a way to wake Kusunoki.”