Sheltering

Ginkgo had enough sigilcraft in place to know that Kyrie had moved from the beach, so he cut short his meeting with Michael. What hadn’t been obvious from the inner room became plain when he passed a window. Clear skies. They were still pre-dawn, but not by much. And the rain had stopped.

He reached the kitchen at the same time a stranger burst through the door, an unconscious Kyrie in his arms. He wore the parka Ginkgo had zipped his brother into earlier, and he radiated an alarming mix of peevishness and power.

Silvery eyes locked onto him, and Ginkgo knew his tail puffed, but he managed a level tone. “Hey, there. Were the two of you able to work out your differences?”

“The brother.”

“One of them.” Ginkgo took a step forward. “Need me to take him off your hands.”

The imp took a step back. “This boy carries people precious to me.”

“Okay, I get that. It’s why the rain stopped, yeah?”

“I can summon up more if you weren’t sufficiently drenched earlier.”

“I’d really rather you didn’t.” Ginkgo took another step forward, palms open for courtesy. Mostly. He was also hoping to get Kyrie away from a guy who felt wilder than wolves. “Peace, friend.”

“You and I aren’t friends, but peace would be convenient.”

Ginkgo senses were straining. He took some comfort from the gentleness of the storm’s hold on Kyrie … and on the fact that he’d done the exact right thing by bringing him to the house. “You know what? There’s a parlor along this hall with a fireplace already going. We can warm him up in there.”

Kyrie stirred and opened his eyes. He remained utterly relaxed in the imp’s arms when he murmured, “This is Anan. He tamed me.”

“Thought it was supposed to be the other way around.”

“I do not mind being wrong.”

Ginkgo said, “We need to get you warm.”

“That would be appreciated.” Closing his eyes, Kyrie softly called, “I am fine, Sibley. Do not blame a storm for storming. He cannot help raining when he is so sad.”

Anan’s eyes widened, and Ginkgo sighed. “Come here, Sibley.”

The younger boy skulked out of striking range and shuffled to Ginkgo’s side. With a firm hand on the boy’s shoulder, Ginkgo said, “Get these two to the fireside, then go for towels and blankets. Stuff like that. I’ll follow in a few minutes with food. Got it?”

“Yeah, I guess. If you’re sure.”

“Increasingly certain. You can trust Kyrie to know what’s best.”

Sibley nodded once, marched up to the imp, and grabbed Kyrie’s hand. Immediately Sibley’s face changed. “Hey! You’re cold as snow. Come on, storm guy. Stop standing around. My brother’ll get sick like this! I’ll show you where.”

He dragged them off, and Gingko turned to the kitchen. Usually at this hour, Sonnet was preparing the morning meal. Left to his own devices, Ginkgo was caught between raiding and reheating when hooves sounded along the hall. Nonny’s brows shot up. “Need help?”

“Probably. Where’s Sonnet?”

“Kinda busy. What needs doing?”

“Not entirely sure. This is a first. We have an eldermost storm in the Rosewood Parlor.”

“How do you suppose he takes his tea?”

Ginkgo laughed. And couldn’t stop laughing. Flinging an arm around Nonny’s shoulders, he accepted some much-needed support.

Nonny elbowed him and repeated, “What needs doing?”

“Kyrie’s chilled through and probably half-starved. I was thinking tea and a couple of trays. I have no idea what wind imps eat.”

“You keep that up. I’ll do some of that custard dragons like. Timur showed me how.”

For a while, they worked in silence. Just the clatter of pans and scrape of a whisk. Ginkgo was pretty distracted by everything, but he finally picked up on the goat-crosser’s mood. “Anything the matter?”

“You mean besides the guv being poisoned, the bad guys lurking nearby, and an eldermost storm in the Rosewood Parlor?”

“Yeah. Aside from those.”

“I mighta made a mistake.” Nonny briefly met his gaze. “I didn’t tell Jacques that Sonnet was back. He was angry about it. Maybe … betrayed. Like I was keeping things from him to hurt him.”

“Why blame you?”

“I’m probably the one who shoulda clued him in. I knew how much it’d mean.”

“I knew,” said Ginkgo. “Dad knew.”

“Well, yeah. But him and Sonnet, they were … umm.” Nonny shuffled his hooves and stole another look.

“They totally were.” Ginkgo shrugged and repeated, “I knew. Dad knew.”

“Right. Well. I just thought … Jacques is the kind of guy who likes to look his best. And since he came home, he’s not really been tip-top, you know? And what with everything else ….” He switched off the burner and stirred in a glug of something from an amber bottle. “Everything’s been mad, so I was waiting for it to calm down a bit. But it’s getting madder by the minute. Why did I ever think things would go back to normal?”

“Lack of experience.” Ginko laughed and shook his head. “Normal is this myth, and ordinary days are a miracle straight from the Maker.”

Nonny made a face. “That’s not how I remember it. When I came here, it was nothing but good days.”

“You were a kid. You had good days because we adults sheltered you from the kinds of things kids shouldn’t have to worry about.” Ginkgo stole a taste of Nonny’s cookery. “Now, you’re one of the guys who’s doing the sheltering.”

Nonny poured off the custard, his brows still furrowed. “Which side of that line is Kyrie on?”

“Honestly? I think Kyrie’s been on the grownup side of things since last summer, when he found out about his sire.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “Mercy’s arrival changed him again. He’s determined. Almost … obsessed. Tsumiko prefers words like zeal and fervor, though.”

“Nobody ever says it, but ….” Nonny grimaced. “The Rogue seems like a zeal and fervor kind of guy.”

“You’re not wrong.”

“And you’re not worried …?”

“Nope. Not even a little bit.”

Nonny swore. “I’m not talking about Kyrie, you know. What about all these the kids who didn’t start out having the guv and Lady and you and Jacques.”

“You mean kids like you?” Ginkgo lightly patted Nonny’s back. “If I remember right, you started out in a cage.”

“I never said so.”

“And I never told.” With a small shrug, Ginkgo admitted, “Fox dreams can cancel out bad ones. But pulling you out of scary places meant catching glimpses of them.”

Nonny swore softly, then muttered, “Thanks.”

“Opal’s lullabies are even better. He doesn’t give nightmares the chance to take hold.”

“Dragons and foxes. You’re not all bad.”

Ginkgo stacked his trays and picked them up. “Here’s hoping eldermost storms aren’t all bad.”

“They have a bad reputation?”

“You could say that, but I’ll leave the storytelling to our bard and focus on being a good host.”

Nonny grabbed the third tray and vowed, “I’ll make sure our kids have plenty of good days. As many as possible.”

“Well, I think Kyrie’s had a rough day. And a long night.”

“This’ll set him right.” And Nonny sailed along the hall, head held high, exuding the very same self-assurance that made his mentor so easy to trust. Jacques would’ve been proud.

Ginkgo caught up outside the door to the Rosewood Parlor. “You know, Jacques probably isn’t actually angry with you.”

“Nah. He’s probably in love with the whole world right now.”

Which could only mean one thing. “Sonnet got to him?”

“Anjou made sure of it.” Rolling his eyes, Nonny added, “Cats. Y’know?”

“Mmm. Wolves, though.” And because he wasn’t sure if Nonny knew how much he knew, he cheerfully added, “To each their own, yeah?”

Nonny called him something rude, smiled sweetly, and sauntered into the parlor.

Kyrie sat on the hearth rug, head bowed. Sibley must have gone and returned, because he stood behind his brother, toweling his hair. Anan was there, too, keeping a close watch over the proceedings.

“Anan, do you eat?” Ginkgo slid his trays onto the low table in front of a sofa.

“How would I know?”

Nonny, having stashed his tray on a desk, propped his hands on his hips. “Want to find out?”

Anan considered them both, then angled his body into something close to a receptive posture. He beckoned to Nonny with long fingers. “What do you have to tempt an eldermost storm?”

Immediately brightening, Nonny replied, “Let’s find out how you take your tea.”

The imp’s brow furrowed.

Nonny wasn’t put off. “I’ve had to sit through a hell of a lot of tea tastings over the years. My mentor’s strict about temperature and timing.”

While he arrayed his tea implements, Ginkgo snagged the custardy stuff and dropped to the floor beside Kyrie. “Nonny’s got you covered.”

Sibley peered over Kyrie’s shoulder. “Oh, nice. That stuff’s the best. Get it in you.”

Kyrie, who’d been stripped of wet clothes and swaddled in blankets, spooned and sighed, his eyes going half-lidded. Sibley hummed encouragement, his fingers busy neatening Kyrie’s drying hair. Meanwhile, Nonny narrated his way through a tea tasting involving half a dozen cups.

“You want a full-on tea ceremony, you’ll have to wait for Lady Starmark’s next visit. I’m just giving you a splash, and while it’s not fussy, it’s plenty of fancy. I’m using the good tea.”

Ginkgo wondered if it was wise to be giving anything caffeinated to someone whose scent reminded him of gathering storms and lightning strikes. But Nonny was good with people, and his irreverence was hitting just the right note. Anan was probably used to more in the way of awe and intimidation, but Nonny was more interested in other things.

“Honey over sugar, then. I like it better, too. But how about milk?”

As Nonny directed him through more sips, Anan’s mood mellowed. Sibley joined Kyrie, and Ginkgo helped rearrange the blankets so they were snug. Only after Nonny proudly placed a cup in Anan’s hands—honey and lemon having been sussed out as his favorite—did Ginkgo make another attempt at basic courtesies.

“I’m Ginkgo Mettlebright. Welcome to Stately House.” And when the imp didn’t respond, he asked, “How would you like to be called?”

Kyrie spoke up. “Anan Eldermost—ruler of skies, darkener of lands, harrower of hearts, and stealer of voices. He was and is and shall become music incarnate.”

“No kidding?” Ginkgo made his most dignified gesture of greeting. “We’re honored.”

Nonny said, “I’ll stand on formality if you make me, but can I just go with Anan? Simpler than juggling titles. Oh, and I should probably ask. You okay if the little ones end up calling you Uncle Anan. I think that’s inevitable, really.”

“Anan likes children,” murmured Kyrie.

The imp snorted. “You are all children.”

Sibley had been fading from notice, but he drew attention to himself again by speaking up. “Hey. Hey, Kyrie? Something wrong?”

“Not exactly.” Tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, Kyrie admitted, “Dima is loud.”

“Let me talk to her.” Anan set aside his teacup and beckoned with both hands.

To Ginkgo’s amazement, Kyrie wriggled free of his blankets and crawled straight into the imp’s arms. While Sibley and Nonny rearranged the bedding, Ginkgo searched Anan’s impassive face. “You don’t actually have to be in contact to speak with the other wind imps, do you?”

Anan simply firmed his grasp, practically curling around Kyrie.

“He was worried,” said Kyrie. “So was Dima. That is why she started shouting.”

“What’re they worried about?” asked Sibley.

With a sigh, Kyrie raised his voice and called, “You may as well come in, Opal. They know you are there, and there will be no peace unless we make it.”

Leaning through the doorway, Opal the Sage offered a small wave. “In the interest of peace, I did have an idea. Perhaps your winds would be willing to trade with me in the manner friends?”

“You are no friend of ours,” Anan growled.

“But I could be.” When this was met with stony silence, the dragon bard cleared his throat. “As I was saying … in the interest of peace … a friend of mine could reach out to a friend of yours. Invite them to arbitrate between us, since he is famous for truth-telling.”

“Ohhh,” breathed Kyrie. “That is a good idea.”

Ginkgo asked, “Who’s this friend of a friend?”

Anan’s expression wavered, and he tentatively asked, “Bethiel?”

“The very fellow!” assured Opal. “As a token of my good intentions, allow me to reunite you.”

Nonny broke the sudden silence to ask, “An angel, huh? Wonder how he takes his tea?”