Page 160 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
“To Keishi?”
“To Stately House.” With a coy smile, Hisoka added, “I have a promise to keep to your lady.”
. . .
They reached home at considerable speed, setting down on Stately House’s lawn just after sunrise. Snow slumped in shady corners, and the air held a premature softness, hinting at springtime. Argent knew the thaw wouldn’t last, but neither would winter.
Gingko slid to the ground with a two-footedthump, his arms taken up by a burlap bundle, a parting gift from Lady Estrella. Something from the Mettlebright grounds to honor the new branch family. Something to please her gardener grandson.
Shifting from foot to foot, Gingko waited for Argent to resume his speaking form before cautiously saying, “I’m not sure my cold frames will be warm enough for these guys.”
Argent made a point of studying the sky. “A cold snap could be disastrous.”
Ears dipping, his son tucked his chin. “I want to plant them along the front walk.”
“A tasteful and appropriate choice.”
Hisoka, who had also transformed, eyed the young trees. “Nurturing your own gingko grove?”
With obvious pride, Gingko explained, “Grandma gave me these from her greenhouses. Sort of a namesake thing.”
“A fine gift.” Hisoka bowed and said, “If you will excuse me, I wish to greet my nephew before presenting myself to the household.”
The cat strolled off, leaving Argent with his fidgeting son. He could have forced the boy to ask outright, but he relented. “Your hand.”
“Huh?”
“Tsk. Give me your hand.” Argent traced a sigil onto his palm and quietly explained, “Be discreet. You will find what you need in the easternmost corner. Mind you do not release the midivar.”
“Really?”
It was patently obvious how much this gesture meant to his son. He gave the boy a small push in the right direction. “Even false spring will make the gossameer frisky. Are you still ticklish?”
Gingko’s ears quavered and pricked. Then with a swift brush of lips and gruff, “Thanks,” he sprang away across the lawn.
Rubbing his cheek, Argent continued along the walk. While he normally would have gone in through the kitchen—the servant’s entrance—a whim drew him up the broad path leading to Stately House’s front door. Already envisioning the grove Gingko would plant, Argent was mildly surprised when the door opened before he reached it. He’d kept his presence very much under wraps, and he was as adept as Twineshaft at slipping past Michael’s defenses. But the one at the door had no reaver sense.
Argent seriously doubted he had any sense at all.
Jacques Smythe executed a precise little bow. “Welcome home, honored master.”
“Still here?”
“Well spotted, sir.” The young man’s gaze swept over his attire, his face. Admiration seemed at war with simple awe. “Is that the Amaranthine equivalent of formal wear?”
“These are my clan’s colors.” Argent studied the silvered tips of his claws. There had been little time to change before their hasty departure. And Twineshaft had encouraged him to retain his finery. For Tsumiko’s sake.
Jacques mouth worked for several moments, as if sifting past all the flippant, flirtatious things he might usually to say. Lowering his eyes, he earnestly declared, “Truly sir, you are a tribute to Stately House.”
Someone had been coaching him in diplomacy. And Jacques was actually applying it? At this early hour? And in a very different sort of formal attire. Argent was almost afraid to ask. “What are you playing at?”
Jacques straightened and tugged at his vest. From bowtie to tails, he was the picture of elegance. “Do you like it?”
“I never did,” Argent said flatly. “What do you think you are doing?”
“Michael explained that you’re taking on a new job—lofty world leader—which leaves Stately House without a butler. So I applied for the position.” A playful smile eradicated any trace of subservience. “You’re a tough act to follow.”
Argent wearily shook his head. “Go home, Jacques.”
