Page 83 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
“Yes.”
“No matter what?” she asked solemnly.
“Yes.”
Flatness was back in his tone, a wary weariness. As if she’d finally done as he expected. As if she’d use him because she could.
“What if I told you—ordered you—to take the night off?” Her fingertips rested on his bare shoulder. “To fly as far as you can, to run wild, to feel the wind in your tails. And to be back in time for breakfast.”
Silence quavered between them, and suddenly, he was on his knees before her.
Tsumiko didn’t want him abasing himself or begging. She tugged at his arm, protesting, “Don’t!”
But he caught her wrists, held her captive with a look. “Say it,” he said fiercely. His lips brushed her knuckles. “Grant it.”
That hurt. That he thought she’d tease him with a treat, then withhold it. But she set aside her feelings and answered him in kind. Taking his hands, she kissed his knuckles and repeated her order in even tones. “Argent, take tonight for yourself. Fly freely. Run wild. Do as you please.”
His only answer was a shaky exhale.
Then she was in a whirlwind of power and petals, hair whipping up and blinding her. When the storm died, she shivered, for the balcony doors were once more wide-flung, and she was alone.
He was gone. So far gone, she couldn’t feel him.
After months living with the constant press of his presence, he’d left a gaping void, brutal as death, bleak as its aftermath. He was gone. Because that’s all he’d ever wanted. To go.
That also hurt. And Tsumiko’s conscience writhed, for she’d uncovered an uncomfortable truth.
She didn’twantArgent to go.
. . .
He dropped into an empty place. Claws dug in, tearing cold earth, and he sniffed foreign soil. Wind ruffled his fur, setting every strand on end, and he spun in place. Springing, whirling, dancing. He rolled on the ground, no doubt grinding mud into his fur, staining the silver with bruised grasses, tangling his fur with leaf and twig. Making a mess. Because he could.
The bonds were still there, but they held him lightly. Argent could feel them slip, loose without letting go. As he pushed farther from his mistress, she was letting out the lead, giving him his head, and permission was sweet.
It was deliciously maddening. He wanted more.
Argent lunged into the sky, plowing upward through clouds that left dew upon his coat as he broke through into starlight. Keen eyes caught the shimmer of galaxies spinning through a vastness he couldn’t touch, yet he careened higher, heedless of thin air and wiser courses. He would do as he pleased because hecould.
A taste of freedom. A foretaste of glories. To slip his bonds and fly far and fast … but perhaps not forever.
His frenzied rise slowed, and he drifted on eddying currents, letting them push his mind in a new direction. What should he do with his promised freedom? Was it too early to plan? Captivity had been easier without the torture of wanting things, so he was out of practice. Had he regained enough of himself to be selfish?
A battle loomed ahead. Nona needed toppling. And if the cat could see reason and give Argent his rightful place, a host of new challenges awaited. Something more absorbing than polishing teaspoons. Better employment for a fox of his talents. Maybe even the authority to prevent others from suffering as he had. As Gingko might have.
Argent would protect his son. By any means. Even diplomacy.
Yes, that sounded right.
He might not know the exact shape his future would take, but one thing was certain.Shewould be there. Argent craved the headiness of her tending and the surge of strength that came with her touch. Could he persuade her onto the path he wished to take? He did not want her going to another. What would it take to convince her to remain, to allow him to sate his growing need for her?
Oh, yes. He definitely remembered what it was to be selfish. And Argent wanted nothing more than more.
And she would give it. Had all but promised it. Because he was free until sunrise. And she’d commanded him to do as he pleased.
Argent ran, doubling his speed, pushing his limits, weighing the consequences, firming his resolve. He could see his course so clearly now. Because the path home was lit by a beacon.
FORTY FIVE
