Page 144 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
. . .
Tsumiko woke to a hand at her shoulder and Sansa’s smiling face. “You slept through the night,” she said. “You are better, yes?”
“Yes.” Tsumiko considered the gentle elation in her inmost parts. Had Argent been tending her again? She couldn’t really remember. But one thing was sure—the bond remained. Argent was her slave. They’d failed.
A perfunctory rap preceded Gingko into the room. He was dressed in grand style—silver and blue, like the clear sky over a frozen landscape. “Hey, you okay?”
“What’s happened?” she asked, looking to Sansa for some clue. “Where’s Argent?”
Gingko sank to the edge of the bed and pulled her into a hug. “Everything’s fine. Weird, but fine. Michael’s playing valet for Dad, and you need to get ready, too.”
“For what?”
“Company,” said Sansa, her eyes sparkling. “We must prepare.”
Tsumiko doubted anything bad was happening if the battler was so excited. Then again, Sansa was a warrior. So anything from a frontal assault to a lengthy siege might actually put her in a good mood. “Gingko?”
“First off, I owe you an apology. Even if this isn’tallmy fault.” Then he spun out a rambling explanation of his longstanding connection with a local wolf pack. “Turns out Kel—that’d be Farook-kel—is the kid brother of a friend of yours. Dad says you met Roo-nii in England.”
She almost laughed at the childish nickname. “Naroo-soh.”
“He’s the one. And I’m an idiot.” Gingko shrugged helplessly. “How was I to know there were Elderboughs in Japan? They’re supposed to be Canadian!”
She did laugh then.
“Yeah, yeah. Real funny. But the upshot is my best friend’s mom has hella high-ranking friends, and they’ve invited themselves over.”
“The bush he beats,” said Sansa, who was laying out one of the elaborate kimono Argenthadn’tlet Tsumiko take to England. “Our guests. He means Hisoka-sensei and the others of the Five.”
“Is that … wise?” She really needed to know if Argent was glad for this turn of affairs.
Gingko’s ears skewed sideways. “We can’t exactly hold them off.”
“But why are they coming at all?”
“No idea,” said Gingko. “Poesy didn’t say.”
Tsumiko had to ask. “Poesy?”
Sansa explained, “Wolves give informal names to trusted friends and honorary packmates. Poesy is the Elderbough pack’s name for Hisoka-sensei.”
She had a strong mental image of a purring feline nosing his way through a flowerbed full of poppies. “What are we supposed to do? Put out the good towels and guest soaps … and hope they like borscht?”
“That is very much what we must do.” Sansa gave a solemn wink and recited, “For hospitality toward the Amaranthine is every reaver’s duty and delight.”
. . .
They came. Not with any pomp or circumstance, but in a chattering knot, like a group of high schoolers on a field trip. Tsumiko lurked on the balcony level of the formal receiving hall, looking down on the most famous Amaranthine in the world. To her relief, only four of the Five had come. Lady Nona was notably missing.
Equally calming was their obvious ignorance of her presence. Argent was keeping her safely hidden away. It was possible they didn’t know she was a beacon. Michael and Argent agreed that Nona would have kept that little detail to herself. So there was a chance the main reason for today’s visit was curiosity surrounding Gingko’s parentage.
Michael and Sansa warmly welcomed the guests to Stately House, setting an appropriate tone and observing the complexities of Amaranthine courtesy. Tsumiko was a long way from learning the basics, let alone the traditions unique to each clan.
Argent touched her shoulder and whispered, “Your turn.”
Taking a deep breath, Tsumiko descended the stairs. At their foot, she was met by an Amaranthine dressed in drab grays. His was a familiar face, but his presence was another matter altogether. Powerful undercurrents made her cautious as she offered her hands. “Spokesperson Twineshaft?”
“Yes, Miss Hajime,” he said, meeting her outstretched palms. “But you may call me Hisoka. Or even Sensei, if you prefer. Thank you for your hospitality.”
