Page 37 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
“If that was the goal, you messed it up for yourself in a big way.” Admiration lit his eyes. “The bond demands obedience, but you don’t. From what I’ve seen, you’re letting him take the lead. After the crap Dad’s been through, he’s gotta be loving it. And you.”
“Argent hates me. He told me so himself.”
“Foxes aren’t famous for being straightforward. Saying he hates you could mean anything.”
“He hates that I own him.”
“No doubt, but it’s probably more complicated than that. With foxes, it’s all about nuance.”
Tsumiko tweaked his ear. “There’s no nuance in ‘I hate you.’”
“There areplentyof possibilities. He hates that he wants you. He hates that he can’t hate you. He hates how much he doesn’t hate you.” Gingko’s eyebrows arched. “He’s got it bad.”
Utter nonsense. “If what he says and what he means are that far apart, doesn’t that mean that he’s actually fond of you?”
His smile vanished. “He hates me for real reasons.”
“Why would a father despise his own son?”
“For happening.” Gingko rubbed his cheek against her knee. “A long ways back, the head of the Hajime family got greedy. He wanted more Amaranthine slaves, and breeding them was the safest option. They forced Dad to perform, and he knocked up his mistress.”
“Your mother.”
“Dad hated her, but he couldn’t harm her because of the bond.” With grim pride, Gingko said, “In a way, I avenged him. Birthing me killed her.”
TWENTY TWO
Beachcombers
From then on, whenever Tsumiko left the house to explore the grounds, Gingko fell in step beside her. He said the gardens were set for winter and didn’t need him. He said he knew her estate better than anyone and could show her the sights. He said he had nothing better to do. But Tsumiko knew better.
For lack of a better description, Gingko became Tsumiko’s playmate.
They swapped stories, issued dares, and idled away hours doing nothing in particular. Gingko coaxed her into scaling Stately House’s roof with him. Tsumiko rallied his support in building an enormous sandcastle. He showed her the spot where fireflies would rise in summer. She told him about life at Saint Midori’s, and there they stumbled onto common ground.
“No parents?” he asked.
She shook her head. “My mother’s family is in Keishi. But my brother and I grew up in boarding schools. Saint Midori’s is the only home I’ve known.”
Gingko poked at wet sand with one toe. “Sounds familiar. This is the only place I’ve ever had.”
“People say I’m sheltered.”
“Sheltered isn’t so bad. I’ve seen a few of the alternatives.” Gingko asked, “Will you bring your brother here?”
“He’ll visit over summer break.” Tossing a stick onto the driftwood barrier, she gazed out across a mirror gray sea. “Maybe he’ll love it and want to stay.”
“What’s not to love? You have a grand house and a beach, and Sansa always goes a little crazy in the kitchen when her brood is back. If mixing with Rivven and reavers isn’t enough to impress the kid, we could probably get Michael to give him driving lessons.”
“That reminds me! Akira asked if there will be any boys his age.”
Gingko raised one finger. “So far, it’s three daughters and a son. Timur is twelve.”
Tsumiko pulled out her phone. “Akira’s fourteen.”
“Two years won’t give your brother much of an advantage if he’s as wispy as you. Timur’s got his mom’s battler build.”
“Then we can promise a boy his size.” She held up the phone, searching for an interesting backdrop for a selfie.
