Page 126 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
“Does he know the reason for your choice?” At the fox’s continued silence, Tsumiko sighed. “You should tell him.”
“Is that an order?” he asked lightly.
She shook her head. “Only if you need the excuse.”
“If you are so concerned about the goings on at home, perhaps you should check for messages.” He gestured to the freshly-pressed suit hanging against the wall. “Breast pocket.”
Tsumiko retrieved the phone. As soon as she turned it on, it filled the room with a chorus of dinging alerts. She laughed at the sudden flood. All from Michael. “Baby pictures!”
She hurried back to Argent so he could look over her shoulder as she flicked through innumerable snapshots of a baby with dark hair peeping out from under a pink cap. After a while, they all looked the same, but Tsumiko was fascinated by the other personages who appeared in the photographs. “Who’s this?”
“Mare Withershanks, Sansa’s former mentor,” said Argent. “And she must be a birth attendant. Likely another from the herds.”
Michael grinned up at the camera in half the pictures, looking rumpled and relaxed. And overflowing with pride and devotion.
“They named her Lilya.” Tsumiko showed several pictures to Akira and Suuzu. “See? Here are Michael and Sansa. I guess you’d call them my nestmates.”
Argent snorted.
The prolonged slideshow came to a sudden stop. “Oh! Gingko is home.”
“What?”
“Look. He’s holding the baby.” She held out the phone, displaying a picture of a smirking Gingko sitting on the floor by Sansa’s bed. “Doesn’t that mean the others are gone?”
“Check the timestamps.” Akira came to her side and flicked through the glut of messages. “None of those ladies are in any of the pictures sent after noon today. And … hey! I thought you told me Gingko is an old guy.”
“Did I?” Tsumiko asked innocently.
Akira glanced between her and the phone several times, then said, “Your elderly gardener only shows up in the last half hour. So maybe the rest cleared out. Oh, wait. This next guy’s definitely not human.”
Tsumiko stared at a snapshot of a strange Amaranthine holding the new baby for Minx to see. “Is this … no, it can’t be Hisoka Twineshaft.”
Argent took a turn scrutinizing the small screen. “No.”
“Didn’t he leave last week?” In the next photo, the stranger sat stiffly beside Gingko, which brought several details to the fore. He was powerfully built, and Tsumiko was fairly certain he wore a breastplate. “Armor?” she asked.
“Of feline design,” contributed Suuzu.
“He’s in a lot of these pictures,” Tsumiko announced.
Another flick brought them to a selfie that showed Michael with his arm around the newcomer’s shoulders. This time, the Amaranthine had been captured with his gaze fixed on Michael’s face. And there was something familiar in his expression. It was the same way Argent looked at her whenever he found her praying.
“Didn’t Michael mention a nephew?” she ventured.
“Tsk. Call Michael,” demanded Argent. “I want to know about his new admirer.”
. . .
Near midnight, Tsumiko held her breath as Argent slowly descended into one of the snowy courtyards of Saint Midori’s. She’d wanted to show him her former home. They wouldn’t be able to go inside, not at this hour, but a stroll through the hushed courtyards was enough.
“How long do we have?” she asked.
“As long as you want.”
Upon learning that all the Amaranthine guests had vacated Stately House—with the exception of Deece, the new security guard Michael firmly vouchsafed—Argent had been eager to move along. They’d already said their goodbyes to Akira and Suuzu, and Tsumiko’s apologetic call to the longsuffering Mr. Ward meant that Tsumiko’s passport and luggage would be collected from the Smythe estate in England.
With the baby snuggled inside the heavy parka Akira had loaned her, Tsumiko rambled through familiar territory. Argent listened with polite attention as she pointed out statues and spires, stained glass windows and sleeping gardens.
