Page 139 of Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal
“Very.” He smiled faintly. “The next time you kiss me, it would be in front of hundreds of cameras.”
Kimiko rolled her eyes toward Rise. “No, the next time I kiss you, it will be in front of your brother.”
The dog nosed their joined hands, adding a small lick.
“I’m not opposed to practice kisses,” Eloquence said, adopting his demure pose of the night before.
But when she went up on tiptoe to kiss him, he leaned away. “What’s this?” he inquired.
“A kiss …?”
“You have already kissed my lips.”
“Once,” she said, confused by his teasing tone. “One down, eleven to go.”
“My dear suitor, you have declared your intention to fulfill the famed Cycle of Moons, also known as the Lover’s Circuit or the Tour of Devotion. Each implies movement.”
“Of the moon.”
Eloquence shook his head. “I can understand your confusion, but you have misinterpreted the song. The moon bears witness, as does the tree—both are constants. It is thekissesthat move. Twelve kisses in twelve places, presumably bestowed in increasingly intimate territory.”
Kimiko did a quick reconnoiter, adding up places she’d be willing to kiss during what might well be a live, worldwide broadcast. Quite the challenge. And getting the placement and pledge to match up would take a little extra creativity.
She was still tallying on her fingers when Eloquence eased closer. “Rise would like to point out that it’s not forbidden for you to touch my lips again. Unofficially.”
“Your brother is really looking out for you.”
“Pack does.” He asked, “Are you willing?”
Kimiko asked, “To kiss you, or to help Hisoka-sensei?”
“Both. Either. Anything.”
“Close your eyes,” she directed. “And bend a little, so I can reach.”
He acquiesced, tipping his head slightly to one side, as if listening for her movements. Perhaps even for the race of her blood or the song of her soul. She rose slowly, hoping to surprise him, and caught the flash of copper under his lashes.
“Peeker,” she chided.
When she pressed her lips to his forehead, he hummed encouragement. When she tried to step back, he slid his arms around her and blithely returned the gesture. As his lips lingered, then wandered, it occurred to Kimiko that Hisoka-sensei had been right about Eloquence’s willingness to keep her warm.
“Oh.” She stopped Eloquence with a finger to his lips. “All right. I can be persuaded to court you in front of cameras, but you didn’t say yet. What was Sensei’s second request?”
He kissed her finger, her wrist. She placed her hand against his cheek to stop him, and he leaned into her touch, his expression peaceful, then puzzled.
“Something about a … spokeswife?”
FIFTY-TWO
Reasons
Tenma woke enough to register brightness against his eyelids. Morning already? Where …?
Flexing his hands, he met fur instead of bedsheets, a helpful clue. The events of last night filtered back with increasing clarity—his Nightspangle rescuers, Lapis’ trust, Argent’s arrival, and the urgent command to decamp.
This was the Starmark compound.
Sometime in the darkest hours of the night, he’d been put to bed between two toddlers by Quen’s white-haired uncle. Tenma could even remember waking twice. The first time to find Eloquence there, stroking his hair.
