Page 140 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
The man sank back on his heels, looking pale.
“What?”
“Argent, what have you done?”
“Tsk. If that was meant to be a leading question, it goes nowhere.”
Michael gently placed his fingertips over Argent’s heart. “Your ties to Tsumiko have multiplied. I fear they may be adding strength to the original bond.”
“No. I was careful.”
“But, Argent.” Michael hesitated, and he lowered his voice. “I’ve only ever seen this level of connection in the ties formed between longtime pactmates … or bondmates.”
“And …?”
He rubbed wearily at the side of his face. “Does she know she’s as good as yours?”
Argent shrugged. “Attachments of this nature are always mutual. More to the point, when can you set me free?”
Michael stifled a yawn. “Tomorrow?”
That one word was a promise he hoped his friend could keep. “Tomorrow.”
. . .
Argent spent the long hours of the night studying the results of Michael’s research, especially the series of drawings the reaver had made of the sigils that chained Argent’s soul. He’d never seen them before. Their design prevented scrutiny, probably to eliminate the possibility of escape.
Now that the patterns were spread before him, Argent could appreciate their artistry. The proliferation of sigils seemed delicate, but he knew their bite. Yet this was unexpected. Now that he was able to study the patterns and markers, he was having a hard time believing that they were created by a reaver. Perhaps the trap had beentriggeredby humans, applied on the spur of a moment, but this meticulous and sinister construction could only belong to an Amaranthine.
Argent compared two pages, then riffled through the sheets to analyze a third. Several of the so-called trickster clans excelled at illusion, evasion, and deception—foxes, squirrels, raccoons, spiders, and rooks being the most famous. Or infamous. Butthiswasn’t a trick or trap.
He’d been anchored to the Hajime bloodline, body and soul. And only one clan was known for harnessing blood to bind. Dragons.
No wonder his freedom had been forfeit. Should he mention the collusion to Michael? Did it even matter anymore? The end was in sight. All he wanted was to break away, fly free, and run toward the future of his choosing. Not scent a trail leading toward recompense or revenge. Enough was enough.
The cost had been high, but it was already paid.
. . .
Argent was grateful when Michael suggested they break the bond before breakfast. Mouth dry, the fox followed his mistress into the same parlor where they’d first forged their link. Could it be this simple? A few moments’ concentration to banish the sigils, then repair to the kitchen for quiche?
Was it cynicism or fatalism that insisted this was too easy? He muttered, “Something will go wrong.”
Tsumiko touched his arm. “O, ye of little faith.”
Argent indicated the annotations he’d inked across Michaels’ plans. “Did you and Darya account for those anchors?”
“Actually, they’re the reason we were able to formulate a plan.” He gripped Argent’s other arm. “Don’t you trust me?”
Argent snorted. “I am at your mercy.”
“Thisshouldwork,” Michael soothed. “But even if it doesn’t, we’ll learn something. And then we can make another attempt.”
He could only concede the point. There was no reason to behave as if they only had one shot. “I am prepared for disappointment.”
Michael only laughed, and when he began the tedious process, it was with a smile on his face.
At first, Argent felt nothing out of the ordinary. Michael’s control was impressive, so his touch was light. Little by little, edges blurred and threads unwound, but when Argent tried to follow the reaver’s progress, it grew uncomfortable. Retreating eased the prickles of pain. Which did follow a certain logic. So long as Argent didn’t participate in Michael’s efforts, the bond wouldn’t punish him.
