Building Up a Resistance

Tsumiko woke knowing that Argent was near, and in the next moment, she was sure something was wrong. What was a mystery. The sense was unprecedented, but it drove her from their bed. She was just knotting her robe when Hajime arrived in her room with a cluster of hangers-on. She didn’t know who to go to first. Argent hung limp in Pim’s arms, and Boon was trying to sooth a weeping toddler. All of them were soaked to the skin.

Boon gruffly announced, “Argent’s poisoned. Any chance Lapis is here?”

“No, he’s not. Argent was coming from his place. What happened?”

“A kid. This kid.”

Tsumiko moved to take the child, whose coloring clearly marked them as another of Kyrie’s siblings.

“Hold up. This little guy is the source of the poison. I’m immune. Say, is Sibley nearby?”

“Still on the beach with Kyrie, I think.”

“On it.”

But Pim stepped into Boon’s path. “Were you planning on going for Sibley or for Lapis?”

“Both. In that order. I’ll leave the little guy with his big brother, then get along. Lapis is the one who saved my life when this happened.” He pointed to the scarring on his face. “Something about an antidote. Huh. Do you think I have the means to help? The details are a little fuzzy, but I could call Penny.”

“Wait a moment. Let me think.” Then Tsumiko turned to Hajime, and asked, “Bring Dad?”

In a trifling, Naoki was there, hair rumpled, glasses askew. Hajime must have shared the basics, because he immediately took charge. “Get him out of that coat. Goodness, why is he wet? Rain? That’s right. Young Withershanks did say something about a storm.”

He was rambling, but his hands stayed busy. Tsumiko hurried to help him peel Argent out of his suitcoat, revealing the bloodied shirt beneath. Prayers didn’t quite still the shaking of her hands as she pushed wet hair from his brow. Argent turned his head toward her, and he raised his eyelids with obvious effort.

“O, ye of little faith,” he muttered. “I will be fine.”

Despite everyone looking on, she kissed him lightly.

Her father addressed Pim. “Set Argent on the bed, please? I’m quite familiar with this poison and its potency. Boon or I could do some good—I’ve also built up a resistance—but it would be better if Sibley were to do it.”

“I’ll bring him,” Pim said, moving toward the balcony doors.

Hajime appeared in front of her, hands outstretched. “If I may? There are so many barriers between you and the boy.”

Meanwhile, Tsumiko moved to a perch on the edge of the mattress, sure that Argent would want her in reach.

He offered a faint smile before acknowledging his doctor. “Naoki. There was a small … mishap.”

“Help is on the way,” he promised.

“Mmm. Boon? A word.”

The wolf stepped forward. “Right here. What do you need?”

“To update you and yours.” Argent’s voice held an edge of pain. “I have met the Rogue. Every suspicion … confirmed. He is colluding. The Hightip sisters. This poor child was bait for their trap. Give him here.”

Boon arched his brows, but he complied. “Your daddy wants you, runt.”

Argent gestured limply to the side opposite Tsumiko, and Boon carefully lowered the little one so Argent could pull him snug. He murmured endearments and encouragement in French. It was little more than baby talk, so Tsumiko understood most of it. The child calmed, then wriggled close, lisping apologies. Argent curled around their new boy, a faint smile on his lips despite signs of discomfort.

Then Hajime returned with Pim and Sibley.

Naoki waved Sibley over. “It’s poison. Help me help him?”

“Aww, geez,” Sibley muttered, pulling off mittens and coat and dropping them. “This is kinda not good, you know? What is it this time? A scratch? A bite? Gouge?”

“Shallow puncture marks. Barely pricked.”

“Okay, yeah. Should be fine if we’re quick. But … umm … D-dad? It’ll hurt some.”

Argent murmured, “Understood. I trust you, Sibley.”

“’Scuse me, Lady. I needta be where you are.”

She gave up her place. “You’ve done this before.”

“Lotsa times.” Sibley crawled onto the bed and prodded at Argent’s bare shoulder, then brightened at the sight of the toddler in his arms. “Hey, little bro. Umm. Say, Dr. Naoki? I don’t wanna bite if I don’t gotta.”

“Hajime knows where my kit is.” Moments later, Naoki located a scalpel.

Tsumiko thought to ask, “Why are you immune to the poison, Dad?”

“Oh, well. Let’s just say that Dr. Kodoku had a short temper.” He kept his gaze on Argent, making small incisions.

Sibley sighed and began to lick at them, muttering apologies as he went. “I know it stings. Trust me, though. Could be worse. Lots worse.”

Tsumiko’s father didn’t seem like he was going to expand on his answer, but Hajime stepped in, gently pushing up one of Dad’s sleeves. Tsumiko’s heart clenched at the sheer number of scars revealed there.

Her father quickly pulled the sleeve back down. “It’s not as bad as it looks. Not really. I was in that dragon’s keeping for many, many years. These were inflicted at odd intervals, often with centuries between.”

Centuries? Tsumiko stared at her father, who seemed barely older than Akira. How long had he been borrowing years from Haji-oji? Or … were there other factors at play? She couldn’t tell, and this didn’t seem the right time or place to ask.

Naoki was still trying to soothe her fears. “Believe it or not, the poison is less devastating for humans, at least in small doses. Our resilience works in our favor. Amaranthine heal so much more slowly. They suffer longer, although … yes, I think we have been quick enough to spare Argent the worst.”

Everyone fell silent while Sibley did his part. Rain battered against the windowpanes, and Tsumiko guessed that meant Kyrie hadn’t yet tamed his typhoon. Pim came to her side and guided her into her usual chair, tucking a blanket around her.

Then came a short rap and the familiar thump of hooves on rug. Nonny wavered just past the threshold, then hurried to Tsumiko, shooting worried glances at the bed the whole while. “Sorry to barge in, but Sonnet sent me to check on you. Seemed to think something was up. Which it is. Need anything from the kitchen? Or anywhere, really.”

Tsumiko’s thoughts turned to practical things, like hot tea and warm towels.

But from the bed, Argent spoke up. “Bring Jacques.”

Bad dreams had been plaguing Jacques ever since the debacle with Kyoko. Dragons were a recurring theme, made worse now that he had a name and face. Kodoku’s demise hadn’t stopped him from sauntering into Jacques’ dreams and making them hellish.

Equally terrible were the nightmare storms that loomed, then lunged, shattering every window in the small cathedral that had somehow appeared in Stately House’s garden. Winds tore at gray stone and green glass, which crumbled to sand and sifted to the ground at his feet, leaving him alone with a heavy bundle in his arms.

In a new twist, Boniface appeared, warily picking his way through the rubble in order to offer him an embroidered handkerchief. He asked to see the baby, which didn’t make any sense since there wasn’t any baby yet. But then Bon-Bon tweaked back the blankets covering the bundle Jacques held, and they stared uselessly at a chrysalis of green stone.

“Keep it safe from the foxes,” Bon-Bon urged.

And then there was a thump and rattle, and the rain was trying to get in.

Jacques gasped and reached blindly, fumbling for help and bumping into Akira. Because Akira was his talisman against nightmares. Because Akira had kept his promise. Because he didn’t shy away from all the things Jacques had done in an effort to protect him. Like falling in love.

Akira hummed and reached for him, his voice slurred by sleep. “M’here. S’all right. Just a dream.”

The nightmare was fading, and the sharpness of Jacques’ fears gradually gave way to fondness. Jacques knew Akira in intimate ways—the scent of him and the sleepy sounds he made. Little details that anchored Jacques. Maybe if he’d ever had a long-term lover, he would have learned these things about other men. But … non. Flings were shockingly impersonal. Two people chasing similar satisfaction without lingering in loving ways.

For weeks—no, it was months now—Akira had been closer than any lover. Satisfying in a sense, but Jacques was keenly aware that he was trespassing.

Akira patted Jacques’ shoulder, mussed his hair, and checked for tears with the swipe of a thumb. Sounding more awake, he quietly said, “Hey, we’re here. You okay?”

Suuzu warbled a soothing note, a reminder that a nestmate was near. Something that should have kept Jacques from trying to get closer to the comfort Akira represented. He edged forward anyhow, but a hand found his hip.

Anjou nuzzled at his nape, kissing the flower-shaped blaze Dayith had placed there. The cat murmured, “You’ll wake the baby.”

Ella. Of course. They’d tucked the baby between him and Akira.

Then Anjou raised his voice slightly. “Who is there?”

It dredged up a bad memory. Of a knock in the night. Of a dragon at the door.

Suuzu softly said, “It is only Nonny.”

Which left Jacques feeling foolish. And peevish. “What are you doing, traipsing about at this hour?”

Nonny lit the lamp on Suuzu’s desk and came closer to the bed. “I was in the naproom. My turn on the rotation, but then Sonnet suddenly got it into her head th–”

“Sonnet,” Jacques interrupted bitterly. “You might have mentioned.”

“Well, yeah. I might’ve.” Nonny frowned. “Are you getting pissy with me?”

“You of all people …! Yes, I’m enormously annoyed. Sonnet’s back, and you never said.”

“Bloody hell,” Nonny grumbled. “When exactly was I supposed to mention it? You and your daft plan—no offense, Akira—and your being up the duff and under lock and key. Plus, the guv said no drama, but I’m pretty sure he meant no … uhh … seductions—no offense, Anjou.”

Anjou began to purr, and his fingers began questing.

Jacques caught the wandering hand and murmured, “Not in front of the baby.” Which immediately made him feel wistful and fraught and hopeful and … no longer annoyed. “I have no plans for grand seductions.”

“Who needs plans?” inquired Anjou. “Improvisation is its own pleasure.”

“Why’s it always cats?” Nonny complained, then swore. “Jacques, I came to get you. The rest of you lot, let him up. He’s wanted.”

“Sonnet …?” Jacques whispered.

“The guv.” Nonny tensed. “I was starting to tell you. The guv’s hurt.”

“Argent is?” Akira quickly sat up, forcing Suuzu from the bed. “What happened? Should I come?”

“Not sure on particulars, but it might be better if you stayed here. With Ella. Lady’s riled. Well, as riled as she gets, but it’d probably set Ella off.”

Anjou was already out of bed and across the room, selecting a clean shirt from the armoire that Akira had insisted Jacques needed. Nonny hurried to help, nixing the cashmere in favor of something less precious.

A telling detail. And yet … Nonny fended off further questions with orders to hurry.

Jacques let Anjou buckle his belt and tie his shoes. Nonny bustled him into a vest and buttoned it, but Jacques went to the mirror to knot his own tie. Suuzu appeared behind him, looking young and earnest and determined as he set to preening. Jacques turned, bowed his head, then dropped a kiss on the phoenix’s nose.

That earned him a chiding sort of chirp.

But also a fleeting smile.

Still fiddling cufflinks into place, Jacques strode out the door, close on Nonny’s hooves. The hall was dark, and rain washed up against the short row of windows they passed. “Were you holding anything back?”

“Usually am.” Nonny slowed and hooked his arm, lowering his voice. “I only got a quick look around, but … damn it all, there was blood. Dr. Naoki was there, and so were Boon and Pim, so … there’s that. Should be fine …? But everyone’s on edge.”

“Right then. Making an entrance.” And Jacques burst through the door.

“Arse,” Nonny accused, leaving him to saunter ahead.

Of course, Jacques’ saunter was checked the moment he spied the crumpled suit on the floor. “Mon dieu. What’s the meaning of this? Argent, this is the vicuna! And it’s torn? Randolla will be heartsick.”

From the bed, which Jacques was studiously ignoring, came a rusty chuckle. “Really, Jackie? Where are your priorities?”

“Good lord, is this blood? You’re a menace.”

Sibley spoke up. “What’s vicuna?”

“Friendly folk. An absolute treasure of a clan off in South America. Dainty creatures with exquisite fibers. Very hard to come by, and yielding very expensive cloth. Making this travesty especially tragic.” And finally turning his head, Jacques quietly added, “I hope it’s the only loss we suffered …?”

“I believe we have come out ahead in the exchange. Come here, Jacques. Meet Etienne. At least, that is what I think he has been trying to say. There is some stuffiness about the nose and a slight lisp.”

“Are you Etienne?” Jacques inquired, wanting to be sure.

The boy turned his way and fluttered damp lashes. He had ragged hair, all hacked ends and limp strands, and freckles ran rampant across the bridge of a pert nose.

“Your daddy is magnifique, but Uncle Jackie is prepared to adore you. Come, my fine lad.”

“Hold up.” Sibley patted at Argent’s shoulder with the flat of his hand. “Ettie—or whatever—could scratch Uncle Jackie.”

Argent said, “You should make an effort to learn your brother’s name.”

“Sorry. Say it again?”

“Etienne.”

Sibley repeated it enough times to draw the littler boy’s attention. Etienne spurned Jacques’ offer and tried to climb over Argent to get at Sibley instead. With a laugh, he said, “Hey, little bro. Seems like you and me have something in common. Lemme see your claws.”

Naoki interjected, “Have you finished?”

“Think so.”

“My turn then. I’ll bandage Argent while you teach your brother how to be gentle.”

“Come on. I gotcha.” Sibley hefted the boy and crossed to a settee, working his way into its corner with Etienne on his lap. “Only problem is, I dunno French.”

Jacques came to sit with them, sliding his arm around Sibley’s back. The boy leaned into him, sniffing and scowling. “How come Uncle Akira and Anjou get to see you, but I can’t?”

“Precautions.”

“What’s that?”

“Argent is careful with the people he cares about. Precautions are the rules he makes to keep us safe.”

“Not sure I like rules,” Sibley grumbled. “But it’s a good word.”

“A rebel after my own heart.” Jacques whispered, “My man can get you in. Ask any time.”

“You’ve got a man?”

“Oui, since I can’t bring myself to turn him out. Anjou is a good sort.” Jacques would have gone into more detail, mostly for Argent’s sake, but just then, the door swung wide.

Nonny must have been sent to fetch things while Jacques was distracted, because he’d returned—clearly from the kitchen—preceding Sonnet into the room.

Jacques would have liked a little more warning before facing the wolf, and Sonnet must have been equally surprised. Her tray would have hit the floor if not for Anjou’s reflexes. The feline caught it, sliding it safely onto a nearby table before backtracking to Sonnet, who stood transfixed. Without a trace of apology, Anjou said, “Please excuse us, Lord and Lady Mettlebright. Matters of the hearth.”

And with a hand at her elbow, he guided his lady mistress from the room. But not before giving Jacques a look that was pure come hither.

Jacques kissed Sibley’s forehead, chucked Etienne’s chin, and gamely echoed, “Matters of the hearth.”

He moved to follow, but hesitated at the foot of the bed.

Argent blandly said, “You hardly need my blessing.”

Boon piped up then, from his post beside a rain-slicked window. “Mine either, but he’s got it. The trail’s at your feet, Devotion. You gonna give chase?”

Jacques had been left wanting for so long, he’d hardly let this chance get away from him. But Argent’s opinion mattered. How often had his lord and master complained that he deserved better?

Expression softening, Argent waved him off. “You have always chosen well for yourself.”