Page 79 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
“On thethirdfloor.” But her eyes took on a shine, and she asked, “Could we?”
Too bright. Too willing. Too much to consider. He shelved his strategizing in favor of a much needed escape.
. . .
Argent would have preferred to replace Tsumiko’s new winter coat with something more … shapeless. Sansa’s selection was both classic and tasteful, but the tailored lines flattered Tsumiko’s figure. Was it too late to bury her modest curves under the fur-trimmed cape she’d worn to the chapel?
But the grounds were empty. And it was only for an hour. He would simply have to deflect notice if their paths crossed another’s.
So he scooped her up and stepped off the balcony, sinking slowly to the frozen ground in the garden below. There was very little to see—empty arbors, drained reflecting pools, ungainly lumps of burlap and twine. But Tsumiko wandered along drifted paths, apparently satisfied to be out and about.
They passed small outbuildings—a summerhouse, a stable, the kennels, and a quaint building that had once been the carriage house. Beyond these, she discovered a long lane flanked by copper beeches. The snow had been removed from the road, so she took a quicker pace, gaze fixed ahead.
“Where does this lead?”
“A hunting lodge,” he replied.
He remembered when it was built, some forty years ago now. Cedric used to give over the place to Percival and Eimi during their longer stays. That way their unusual butler wouldn’t cause a buzz among the rest of the staff.
Eimi had always asked him to make himself scarce. Something easily managed, even for a fox existing under strict limits. At times, she and Percival even forgot he was there. In that sense, these annual visits to England had offered an interesting respite. Far from enjoyable, but a break in the routine. A change in scenery.
“How far is it?” Tsumiko asked.
“Around the bend.”
The road curved away into a wood where pheasants, grouse, rabbits, and deer were allowed to proliferate. Fodder for hunts. Meat for the table.
She asked, “Have you been to this part of their estate before?”
“Many times.”
“Is it nice?”
Argent was fully prepared to assure her thatnicewas no longer a defining quality of any part of his life. But his step faltered, and he snagged the back of her coat with one hand.
Tsumiko turned. “What’s wrong?”
Pulling her close, he muttered, “Can you feel it?”
She looked between him and the winter-bare trees, a frown tugging at her lips. With a cautious nod, she said, “Thereissomething. It’s a little like Michael’s boundaries. Is the way warded?”
“It is.”
“Why would a reaver’s wards be here?” Tsumiko’s brows drew together in concentration. “Oh. There are Amaranthine here. But … they don’t feel like foxes.”
“Not foxes.” Argent slipped an arm around her shoulders at the sound of hoofbeats on gravel, dull but deafening in his mistress’s breathless silence. He blandly added, “Nor dragons.”
Two horses cantered into view, sorrel stallions with pale manes whose snorts billowed in the chill air.
“Are they …?” Tsumiko whispered.
“The equivalent of guard dogs.” His gaze narrowed, and the Kith shifted restlessly. But they didn’t back down.
“What are they protecting?”
“An excellent question.” Argent growled softly. He should have noticed their presence much sooner, but these wards were set to dampen impressions. The reaver who set them up may not have been as powerful as Michael, but the camouflage deflected notice, influencing perception. If he hadn’t been following Tsumiko, would he have even found the lane?
“What should we do?” she asked.
