Star Wine Serenades

 

Once Kimiko was safely away with Suuzu and Akira, Eloquence changed into his truest form and loped into the adjacent woodland on four paws. Dusk had settled into darkness, but he dodged confidently through the trees, lengthening his stride, picking up speed. Kimiko would formalize her claim tomorrow evening, but the connection they’d formed just now was a far sight more real.

Skidding to a halt and settling back on his haunches, he sang the note that still resonated through his core.

A chorus of Kith quickly joined him, their carrying howls echoing his joy.

Barking from closer quarters accompanied the bounding form of Rise. Quen turned to welcome him, setting off a grand game of tackle-and-chase through the snowy forest.

Are you happy, brother?

Quen returned to speaking form and leaned into the Kith’s side. “Happier than I know how to express.”

Because of Kimiko.

“Yes.”

Do you love her?

He tugged at Rise’s ear. “Yes.”

Do you trust her?

“Yes.”

Rise ducked his head, as if afraid Quen would lose patience with his questions. Will you tell her about me?

“Soon.” Eloquence wrapped his arms around Rise’s thick neck. “I’ll have you trade places with Edge and Flay and introduce you properly.”

I am Kith.

“She won’t mind.”

I cannot speak. Nervousness crept into his voice, making him sound younger than his years.

“Let me be your Eloquence.”

Rise butted his head against Quen’s chest. Mine.

“Yes, yours.” Taking his usual seat astride his denmate, he said, “You and Ever will always be with me, just as I’ll always be with Laud.”

 Home.

“Yes, let’s go home.” As the dog ambled toward the compound, Quen asked, “If you’re here, where is Ever?”

Taken by foxes.

Quen laughed. “You make it sound so ominous.”

Rise only grunted and picked up speed.

Before long, he could hear the noise of celebration—music and laughter and song. Typical for evenings when Dad had friends over. Quen was already picking up the telltale scents of wolf, cat, dragon, and fox. “All together?” he whispered.

The Five are assembled.

“And into the star wine.” It was probably a good thing Tenma and Inti hadn’t been able to stay over tonight. Knowing this lot, his pavilion would be full to bursting.

A thread of melody carried through the chill night, words slurring haphazardly. “What are they …? Rise, stop here. What are they singing?”

They held still, ears tuned to a lusty ballad. Quen’s mounting suspicions collapsed into utter mortification when he realized the song’s subject matter. He hadn’t been aware there was a translation from wolvish of “The Wolf and the Moon Maiden.” Yet Dad was bellowing out the maiden’s lines without a trace of shame. Adoona-soh had taken the hero’s role, her deep voice rich with drama.

Their gender-swapped performance might have been amusing, but for the fact that he’d been similarly cast. At the chorus, more voices joined the song. Lapis’ singing was lovely as ever. More surprising was Twineshaft’s very passable baritone.

Quen was fully prepared to skulk home, but then Ever’s voice broke through the rest. “Wiff naughty butt moon-beans for a dress!”

“Tsk. The line is ‘naught but moonbeams,’” came Mettlebright’s bland correction.

A husky laugh followed. “I dunno, Dad. I think little bro has her pegged.”

That was Gingko.

“Moon-beans?” a child asked softly.

Definitely Kyrie. The little dragon crosser didn’t talk half as much as Ever, but not because he couldn’t.

“No, these are nuts, not beans.” And then Argent’s voice rose slightly. “Come along, Eloquence, or I fear they will never stop this caterwauling.”

Caught out.

He was halfway to the door when Hisoka Twineshaft opened it for him. “Good day, Eloquence. Or good evening, if you like.”

The rest had picked up the ballad again. Gingko seemed to be teaching it to them, translating off-the-cuff from wolvish. Quen had to wonder where a half-fox had picked up the knack, but he voiced a more pressing question. “Do I even want to know how you already know the form my suitor’s declaration will take?”

“Isla submitted a proposed schedule to both me and Suuzu. All the necessary preparations are underway.” Hisoka searched his face, then offered a palm. “Have I become an imposition?”

Quen guessed Twineshaft had been Dad’s friend for much too long. How else could a cat have perfected a hangdog expression? “If you can prevent Dad from burying my dignity in the back garden, I’ll welcome any meddling you deem appropriate.”

Hisoka’s usual poise slipped enough for Quen to tell he’d surprised him.

“You’re usually more wary,” Hisoka said.

“Less grateful, as well.” Stepping into Twineshaft’s personal space, he bestowed a pudding please. “I want to thank you for having me join the inaugural class at New Saga High School.”

His expression softened. “Wasn’t that my line?”

Quen tucked his chin. “Let’s just say I’ve come around to your way of thinking.”

“Most do.” Hisoka pulled him into a loose embrace. “You may count on my continued meddling.”

He snorted.

“Do you trust me, Eloquence?”

“You’re a friend of this pack.”

Hisoka inclined his head, but in the way a teacher does when granting partial credit. Close, but not quite.

Quen sighed. “What do you want?”

“More.” The cat repeated his question with gentle emphasis. “Do you trust me, Eloquence?”

He’d always thought of Twineshaft as Dad’s friend. Like all his brothers, Quen extended every courtesy, treating the Five as honorary packmates. But courtesy wasn’t trust. Faith couldn’t be forged secondhand. This was his choice.

Eloquence considered the weight and worth of his next words, for they would be binding.

Yet the answer was obvious, as if the moment of decision had come and gone long ago. All Hisoka was doing was calling the matter to his attention. A mere formality. A mutual acknowledgment.

“I do,” he answered. “I have for a while now.”

“Oooh, me next!” crooned the tipsy dragon who sauntered straight into Quen’s arms. Draped and drooping, Lapis sighed boozily against his ear. “Say you love me, El-o-quence. Am I not better to you than cats and foxes and Icelandic interlopers?”

Hisoka smiled knowingly. “Come, Lord Mossberne. Sinder isn’t a rival for your place in Eloquence’s cozy den.”

“You would not turn me out in the cold, would you El-o-quence?”

Quen tried to see past Hisoka into the brightly-lit room. “Who’s Sinder?”

“An acquaintance from among the dragon clans.” Hisoka stepped back and urged, “Come in out of the cold.”

Lapis trilled his agreement, yet sagged more pitifully.

Having enough of delays, Quen all but carried him into the spacious chamber where Dad liked to entertain. For all the ruckus they were creating, the group was surprisingly small. Perhaps the noise level could be blamed on the star wine. Or on Gingko Mettlebright, who’d launched into yet another stanza.

Only Argent wasn’t singing, nor had he been drinking, judging by the amount still sparkling in the glass he’d pushed away. The fox spokesperson offered Quen a polite nod, then returned to shelling gingko nuts for the children occupying his lap.

Ever vied with Kyrie for the treats, but at a murmured word from Argent, the little boy’s gaze swung around. “Bruvver!”

“Having fun?” Quen scanned the room, but Lapis’ Icelandic rival wasn’t present.

“Yeth!”

“Help me get Lord Mossberne to a good, warm spot.”

The boy quickly trotted to a pile of furs and dragged one over beside Argent. “Laps wiff us. I warm Laps.”

The dragon’s expression went all doting, and he murmured, “If you insist.”

Argent helped drape the fur around Lapis’ shoulders. Once Ever clambered into the dragon lord’s lap, the fox deposited Kyrie there as well. For added warmth. Leaving the little ones to ply Lapis with gingko nuts and chatter, Argent gestured officiously to the cushion at his other side. “Sit.”

Quen sat.

Argent was relatively new to his position among the Five. Quen rarely saw him, barely knew him, despite their common ground—fostering crossers.

“Here he is, my maiden son!” Dad boomed. “Suitably suitored, properly pursued!”

And then Hisoka was at his old friend’s side, proposing a toast that granted Eloquence’s upcoming claim some much needed dignity.

Argent raised his glass with the rest, took a polite sip, and arched a brow. “A human?”

“Yes.”

“Why her?”

The line of questioning hardly seemed fair. Argent had chosen a human. “Why’d you take your bondmate?”

The fox smirked. “She is a beacon.”

Eloquence waded through dismay and disappointment before reaching disbelief. Argent had to be lying. Or, at the very least, evading.

Argent seemed to be following his entire train of thought, for he gave a different answer. “I trust her.”

“That’s all?”

“Hardly,” he scoffed. “But without first laying claim to my trust, she could not have taken hold of everything else.”

Quen saw the sense. Argent’s words rang true.

The fox asked, “How did your attachment come about?”

Had rumors begun to spread? He quietly admitted, “It was an accident.”

“Serendipity or calamity?”

“What a thing to ask,” Quen muttered.

“You have nothing to say? Ironic.”

“I don’t hear you waxing eloquent about the felicities of love.”

“I could.” Argent bluntly inquired, “Are your reasons for accepting Miss Miyabe personal or promotional?”

Quen grit his teeth. On the face of things, he shared enough common ground with the fox that they should have gotten along. Why was Argent goading him?  Fists clenched, he asked, “Are you trying to insult me?”

“Already riled?” He tutted disapprovingly.

He mastered his irritation. Barely.

Argent went right on. “Many of the Kindred will infer that you are under pressure from your father. That you are following his lead, supporting his policies by echoing his actions.”

Eloquence opened his mouth, a bitter protest ready to be flung. But he’d overheard so many of the conferences that had led to the Emergence. So he saw the trap in time. Argent was shading the truth, giving his own slant to the facts. The only way to set the record straight would betray clan secrets. And an ill-worded denial might imply that he didn’t support Dad’s policies.

“Some will believe that you are the perfect opportunity. Coming from the first clan to be tamed, you would grasp the need for close observation and careful documentation. To prove that your younger brother is no fluke, you and your human will agree to breed in captivity.”

Fear and fury spiked in terrible tandem, and he drove his claws into the flooring to keep from lashing out.

“Tsk.”

And then Dad was there, hugging him from behind, holding him back. “Easy, now. Stand down, son. Although I’d have throttled him myself for that last one.”

Argent sniffed. “You would have attempted far worse.”

“I daresay you’ve heard far worse,” said Hisoka, who dropped into a crouch at Quen’s side. “Forgive Argent’s impudence. He is acting a part … at my request.”

Quen stilled and felt quite sick. Was this mockery? Or worse? He wouldn’t have expected these people capable of so much ugliness. To his shame, tears flooded his eyes.

Someone swore. Probably Gingko. Someone began weeping. Poor, sweet Kyrie. Someone was railing against Dad. Definitely Adoona-soh. And someone gathered him up. At first, Quen thought it must be Laud, and he went limp with relief. But when his vision cleared, he realized he’d mistaken silver for white. He was in Argent’s clutches, and the fox was strong.

“Leave him to me,” ordered Argent, hand slicing through the air, which soon blazed with complex sigils.

A barrier, but not the kind Quen knew to make, for the world vanished. Fox magic. A mild voice alerted him to the presence of a third person within an otherwise empty space.

“Thank you for including me,” said Hisoka.

Argent rolled his eyes. “The whelp feels betrayed. Make it right. Now.”

The cat slunk into view, reached for Quen’s limp hands, and bowed low so that his forehead touched them. “I am sorry for distressing you. I would much rather spare you everything—slights, slander, spurious assumptions, and scandalous speculation. As it is, we can only prepare you for their inevitability.”

Quen’s gaze swung to Argent’s face. “You lied?”

“No. I told you what some will believe, what some will say.”

Argent offered no apologies. Then again, he owed none. Eloquence eased out of the fox’s arms, but he didn’t make it far. Silvery tails fanned out and around. Propriety prevented Quen from touching them, which made them an effective prison. Even so, Quen felt more on equal terms, seated so close, all their knees were touching.

Hisoka said, “When your ‘engagement’ to Kimiko comes to light, the press will be no more gentle than Argent has been.”

“Worse,” muttered the fox. “You will face demands—not requests—for information every bondmate would consider intensely private. And that is just the public sector. The merry band of reaver researchers will ply you with questionnaires, schedule physical exams, and issue tactful pleas for genetic samples.”

“Has Dad been dealing with this stuff?”

“Only since the announcement of Ever’s birth,” said Hisoka. “And Harmonious has been fierce in his protection of Anna. She’s never been photographed or interviewed.”

Quen touched Argent’s arm. “What does Lady Mettlebright do?”

“Tsumiko is similarly elusive, by her choice and my enforcement.” Argent’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I am regularly approached by those who—for the good of the In-between—want access to the crossers who have found safe haven at Stately House. Our priority has always been their protection.”

Hisoka said, “Argent is one of many sheltering those without clan or crest.”

The cat probably also had a paw in. That would explain Inti’s presence at New Saga.

“I understand that I need coaching.” Quen had been so enamored of the future he’d imagined, he’d been blind to the accompanying battle he was ill-equipped to wage. “But why are you telling me this now?

Argent and Hisoka exchanged a long look.

“There is no hurry.” Quen leaned forward, keeping his voice low. “Our courtship is meant to be conducted in secret. Over the course of years.”

“Tsk. Tell him.”

“There is a chance that I will need to use you and your ‘engagement.’”

That creeping sense of betrayal was back.

Hisoka’s smile was all sympathy, but no apologies were forthcoming from his quarter, either. “Recent events in Keishi are causing concern at the highest levels. Those most resistant to accommodating our existence are actively seeking proof that our intentions are less than honorable.”

Hardly news. The debates had raged ever since the Emergence.

“The kidnappings?” asked Quen. They’d begun about the same time a large contingent of trackers had arrived, led by the Elderbough clan. “Boon trailed the culprit here and was injured trying to rescue one of the girls.”

“Yes.” Hisoka ran a hand over his hair. “Their presence here is part of an ongoing international investigation. The Elderbough pack has been in pursuit for nearly four years.”

That was a long time to elude a pack famed for their skill in tracking.

“They’ve uncovered evidence of killings and kidnappings going back decades.” He cut a look at Argent, who inclined his head. “Over the last several years, he has refined his technique. We know what he’s after, but that hasn’t helped us to stop him.”

Quen was beginning to see the scale of this problem. “The kidnapper is Amaranthine.”

“Yes.”

Argent huffed impatiently. “He is a monster with discriminating tastes—only females, only reavers. Because they are the only ones who can give him what he wants.”

Hisoka sighed. “That was an unexpected upshot to the investigation. I’m not sure anyone realized before.”

Quen didn’t ask them to hurry along. He could see the trail, and he wasn’t eager to deal with what waited at its end.

“While humans and Amaranthine have always been compatible, not all couplings are the same. Just as a human bondmate must be a reaver in order to receive the tending necessary to extend their lifespan, a human woman must be a reaver in order for the coupling to result in offspring.”

Argent put it bluntly. “He rapes the girls he takes in order to breed.”

“Why haven’t we stopped him?”

“Ah.” Hisoka’s smile was wan and weary. “Our trackers have succeeded. We’re certain they’ve cornered our culprit more than once.”

Quen finally wearied of waiting. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“That part should be yours to tell, Argent.”

The fox beckoned for Quen’s hand, which he brought to his own heart. Holding it there, Argent touched his fingertips to Quen’s chest. A request for secrecy and support.

Heart racing, Eloquence placed his hand over Argent’s, pressing and promising.

“We are dealing with a rogue dragon,” Argent said grimly. “And he is my son Kyrie’s sire.”