Page 33 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
The threat was so silly, she smiled. “You’re a bully.”
“And you are easy prey.”
Tsumiko felt sure she was being manipulated by a pro, but she wanted so badly to give in. Maybe the truth could set them free. “I want a family.”
He retreated so fast, she never saw him move. One moment, Argent was at her elbow, the next he was on the other side of the table, radiating hostility.
“You do not need me for that,” he said coolly. “You will have your pick of the Smythe cousins.”
Cousins? Hadn’t Michael said something about a squabble? She asked, “Relatives of Aunt Eimi’s husband?”
“Yes.”
Tsumiko had been so focused on learning about Aunt Eimi’s reaver heritage, it hadn’t occurred to her that Lord Percival might have kin. “But why would they bother with someone like me?”
“Tsk. As I said, mistress, most would consider this an enviable acquisition.” He busied himself with tableware. “The Smythes would do anything to lay hold of you, your fortune, and me.”
“Wait. They’re reavers, too?”
“No.”
“But then how do they even know about you?”
Argent snorted lightly. “Despite repeated protests from my wards, Lord Percival and Lady Eimi made annual trips to his homeland. Due to the nature of the bond, I was in attendance.”
“You traveled overseas?”
“Regularly.”
“I’ve never been abroad.” Was that an option now? Tsumiko leaned forward. “But I didn’t mean marriage. I was talking about Michael, Sansa, and their baby. And Minx, Gingko, and you. Can’twebe a family?”
Argent’s hands stilled. “In what sense?”
“I don’t like this big, empty dining room. I don’t like this game of lady and servant.”
Some of Argent’s wariness lingered. “So you are proposing a new game. You wish to play house.”
“No!” She pressed shaking hands to the table. “I’ve been trying to fit in, but it’s no use. I don’t want to live like this, and if what Gingko said is true, neither do you.”
He scrutinized her for several moments, then said, “Bring your pudding.”
Tsumiko slipped from her chair, hugging the ceramic pot to her chest as she followed him along a short hall and into the kitchen. Michael lounged in a chair at the table in the corner, watching the news on a small television. Sansa turned from the stove and smoothed her hands over her apron.
“Miss Tsumiko?” she ventured.
Michael quickly muted the television and jumped to his feet, straightening his tie before executing a short bow. “What can we do for you, miss?”
“Please, would you call me Tsumiko?”
“If you wish.” Michael’s questioning gaze strayed to Argent.
He said, “The mistress wishes to rid herself of the trappings of gentility.”
Michael hesitantly asked, “Get rid ofus?”
“No!” Tsumiko was accustomed to putting others first, not putting herself forward. Would she be asking too much? Her wish felt incredibly selfish. “No, that’s not what I want at all.”
Sansa moved to her side. “These foxes, they say good things in bad ways. Tell us in your own words.”
