Page 27 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
“Figures.”
Gingko pushed back his hat. He was younger than she expected—about her own age, perhaps a little older. While he had the famed beauty of the inhuman races, his pupils were round. Which only confused Tsumiko further, because it made Gingko seem more human.
His crooked smile revealed a distinctly Amaranthine fang. “It’s not like Argent’s proud of me or anything. It’s actually the other way around.”
“You’re proud of him?” she asked.
He snorted. “More like he’s ashamed of me.”
The wind teased at the thick fringe of hair now showing, and Tsumiko murmured, “Silver?”
“Okay, Miss Hajime. Let’s get the worst over.” Gingko sat cross-legged in the sand and pulled off his hat.
Despite his youth, Gingko’s unruly hair was completely silver. Some sections curled against his jaw, others stuck out at odd angles, as if he had a dozen cowlicks. Tsumiko decided it looked more like fur than hair. He ran both hands through the thatch, messing it up further, and then … pricked his ears.
“Are those …?”
Gingko grinned rakishly and gave them a wiggle. “They’re real, and they’re mine. My hearing’s better than decent.”
He looked a little like a cat. Or certain breeds of dog. But Tsumiko didn’t want to offend by guessing wrong. “Which of the Amaranthine clans do you belong to?”
“Can’t you guess?” He held up a finger and began unbuttoning his shirt.
She stiffened and risked a sidelong look in the direction of the stairs.
“Calm down. I’m nobody dangerous. I only wanted to show you this.” He parted the fabric just enough to reveal a small patch of blue skin in the center of his chest. “If you look sideways and squint, there’s a resemblance.”
Tsumiko obediently tipped her head and narrowed her eyes.
He chuckled.
She blinked. “You look like Argent.”
“Sure I do. He’s my father.”
SEVENTEEN
Brave and Brazen
Gingko edged closer, his voice dropping into conspiratorial tones. “You’re more powerful than the others.”
He crossed right into her personal space, but Tsumiko couldn’t back away with the cliff behind her. “Others?” she asked.
“Dad’s other mistresses.” He grinned. “Makes him sound like a cad, doesn’t it?”
She knew better, so his little joke wasn’t funny. But his remark had her reassessing her assumptions about Gingko’s age. “How many have you met?”
“More than I want to admit, and none that I liked.”
“I thought Aunt Eimi was nice,” Tsumiko said, still trying to reconcile what she knew about Amaranthine with Gingko’s contradictions. “Michael and Sansa loved her like family.”
Gingko’s ears lay back, and he dragged his claws through the sand. “She was better than all the rest put together, but look what she did to Dad.”
“What did she do?”
“Turned him into a proper British butler,” he said, disdain plain on his face. “I’veseenAmaranthine foxes. If they saw him trussed up in his brushed suit and bow tie, bowing to humans and opening doors and polishing silver teapots, they’d laugh him into the next millennium.”
Tsumiko frowned. “You’veseenfoxes? Aren’t you one?”
