Page 120 of Fumiko and the Finicky Nestmate
Buzz briefly gripped Juuyu’s elbow, murmuring, “Thank you for your patience.”
Juuyu caught his sleeve. “Why did you ask?”
“Oh, it’s just a simple test. To see if the effects of the pollen have diminished.”
“Did I miss something?”
With a small smile, Buzz said, “If you want to amend your answer at any point, speak up. Okay?”
Buzz went to help Bavol distribute tea, leaving Juuyu to scan the room anew. Had he missed something? Surely not. Why was red so significant to the case?
The tea tasted as bad as it smelled.
Moon and Merit filed into the room, closely followed by Jacques, who wheeled a small mint-colored suitcase behind him. The man caught Juuyu looking and slipped into a respectful posture before blowing him a kiss.
Juuyu had long since decided to treat Jacques like a tree. That way, his flirtatious tendencies fit into a framework. Lord Mettlebright’s righthand man was similarly self-assured and self-absorbed. And keenly aware of everything that happened within his sphere of influence.
One might question the appropriateness of Argent’s choice in confidants … until you saw Jacques Smythe steer a press conference, greet foreign ambassadors at galas, or insert himself fearlessly into situations that would intimidate a lesser man.
Situations like this.
Akira tapped on the door and stepped inside, wavering uncertainly on the threshold. Jacques laid claim, and Akira brightened to see him. They were still whispering together when Argent began the meeting in his usual systematic manner.
Questions and answers.
More significant were all the questions that had no answers.
For each gap and inconsistency, Argent made a note on the map of the Amory that Hallow had pinned to the wall. A pattern was emerging, but Juuyu was having trouble focusing on it. So he averted his gaze to consider the scene obliquely—as if their quarry were a particularly elusive Ephemera—only to be distracted by the click of latches on Jacques’ travel case.
What was the man up to?
Juuyu wasn’t the only one whose attention kept darting to the corner, where Jacques was playing valet to Akira. Argent went right on talking, as if he was unaware of his man’s antics. Dividing his focus, Juuyu followed Akira’s progress out of the corner of his eye.
Was that a wig?
Darting a look around the room, he realized that Bavol, Moon, Buzz, and Merit were watching them watch Akira. So this was a test? Of what?
Akira looked strange with long, dark hair. His resemblance to his sister was more pronounced, but then Jacques made his honorary nephew sit. Gathering, twisting, and pinning, he arranged the wig into a loose knot. And added a yellow kanzashi.
The dainty jingle of its bells stirred something in Juuyu’s memory.
Where had he heard that sound lately?
Argent called on him, then. Mundane questions about the parking garage and the grounds crew. When he was able to steal another look in Akira’s direction, Jacques had him stripped to his boxers. He warbled his concern, and Akira’s attention snapped to him.
Signaling an all’s well, he stepped into a pair of loose pants.
The next layer confirmed that this was traditional Japanese attire. Jacques folded and tucked the long shirt, knotting its belt like a professional dresser. Perhaps he qualified, having been in charge of Argent’s wardrobe for more than a decade.
Sinder slipped through the door and slid onto a chair. “Did I miss anything important?”
“Undoubtedly,” said Argent.
The dragon warbled a sassy note, his attention drifting to Jacques and Akira. “Are you up to something?”
“I usually am.” Argent went right back to describing Mirrim’s and Magda’s patrol route.
Meanwhile, Jacques shook out a short kimono coat with full sleeves—black with golden ginkgo leaves strewn along the hem. This was left hanging open while Jacques knelt to help Akira into a pair of tabi, followed by a pair of geta.
