Page 100 of Tsumiko and the Enslaved Fox
Brynn addressed Argent. “She is a beacon.”
“I am aware.”
“I have need of her.”
“She ismine.”
Tsumiko interrupted the burgeoning stand-off with a hand on Argent’s sleeve. “Why do you need a beacon?”
Brynn gathered up a tray. “Come, see for yourself.”
In the parlor, Stewart stood before a crackling fire, his arm around a woman in a wine-colored dress, her unbound black hair hanging well past her waist. He murmured encouragement and turned her in order to make a proper introduction.
Kyoko Hajime-Smythe briefly raised her eyes and dipped her head. Filmy layers of delicate fabric flowed in modest folds over the unmistakable curves of pregnancy. But the young woman’s face was too thin, and her eyes held a brightness that wasn’t from health. Rather, Kyoko seemed fevered, fragile.
Was it any wonder? Kyoko’s introduction to the Amaranthine had left her in the clutches of a monster. She may have watched her colleagues die. She’d been taken by their murderer and violated. She’d been lost without a trace, left for dead, kept in a lightless, hopeless burrow—buried alive.
Even though they must be distantly related, Tsumiko found nothing familiar in the other woman’s face. But she recognized beauty when she saw it. And fear. All of the woman’s glances stole in Argent’s direction.
Tsumiko quickly stepped forward, taking Kyoko’s icy hands. “First an aunt, and now a cousin. This past year has brought many surprises and blessings, not the least of which is a family.”
Her gaze slid past Tsumiko. “We are little better than strangers.”
“We can be as close as we wish to be,” she countered. “Please, call me Tsumiko.”
Kyoko’s gaze locked with Tsumiko’s, and the taller woman’s shoulders curled inward. Pulling Tsumiko closer, she whispered, “Is it true? He is in your thrall? He obeys you?”
“Argent?”
“Don’t let him touch me! Don’t let him hurt me,” she whispered urgently. “Keep him away!”
“Argent won’t hurt you, Mrs. Smythe. He never would.”
“Never?” Kyoko muttered, “I’ve seen things thatnevershould have been, little cousin. This world swarms with them, and they are stronger than we.”
Tsumiko quietly repeated, “Argent won’t hurt you. I promise.”
Kyoko nodded once and pulled her hands free, drawing herself up and wrapping too-slender arms around her own shoulders. Tsumiko had only met one other expectant mother, and Sansa was in the habit of cradling her belly, as if to hold her baby even closer. But Kyoko held herself apart from the swell of her abdomen, almost as if this, too, was a source of fear.
Falling back on small talk, Tsumiko asked, “When are you due?”
With a bitter twist of lips, Kyoko said, “I have lost hope of seeing the end to my captivity.”
Stewart took a pleading tone. “I’m assured by Naroo-soh and others that the progression of this pregnancy is … within expected parameters.”
A tear trickled down Kyoko’s cheek.
“It is only natural,” Brynn interjected. “Amaranthine age slowly, mature slowly, heal slowly. Gestate slowly.”
The math. Hadn’t Kyoko been rescued by wolves more than a year ago? Tsumiko grappled with the timeline of the expeditionary team’s disappearance.
Stewart gravely said, “Kyoko has entered her fortieth month. She’s been pregnant for more than three years.”
Tsumiko looked to Argent, whose expression gave nothing away. Had it been the same with Gingko’s mother?
“There is hope,” said Brynn. “This girl is not another useless reaver of middling strength. She is a beacon.”
And suddenly, fingers scrabbled at the beads around Tsumiko’s wrist. When she jerked backward, it was without her bracelet, and Kyoko held the amethyst strand aloft. Tsumiko could only stare in confusion as it swayed like a pendulum from the woman’s clenched fist.
