Clan Smythe

Anjou spent most of the day at the gate since the members of Boon’s team each chose to linger there, waiting for the others to arrive. He wasn’t bored, precisely, since the group was lively and interesting to watch. Anjou was especially intrigued that all the incoming guests were armed. Were they tributes like himself? Curious though he might be, he remained where he was, quiet on the fringes. Await, await, await.

Patience had its reward when Boon said, “You remember Anjou? After all the upheaval, he landed on his feet. Double bond and a fosterling. Huh. You sorted out clan names and whatnot yet?”

“We have.” With shy pride, Anjou said, “We all wanted Jacques’ name. I’m a Smythe now—clan, crest, and colors.”

“There you have it,” said Boon agreeably. “All right. Bar the doors. Nobody else is expected today, so let’s get this lot to the house. Seems to me, we’ve got an antsy imp on our hands.”

Anjou considered the little girl in Juuyu’s arms. She was clingy and quiet, and yes … he knew what it looked like to await, await, await. So he showed his palms and asked, “May I hasten you to your heart’s desire, little mistress.”

“Twosies?” she whispered.

“It would be my pleasure to reunite you with the young sir.”

She peeked up at Juuyu, whose expression gentled. “Anjou is a well-spoken and swift cat, a good friend to have.”

“Go all in, sweetheart,” advised Boon. “He’s your Uncle Anjou.”

She leaned away from Juuyu, both arms stretching, and the phoenix yielded her with a smile.

Cradling her close, Anjou complimented the flowers on her crown of branches, the dress, which was pink to match, and her bravery for making such a long journey. All while lengthening his stride.

“Your name?”

“Seventh Try. Or just Try. Until I have a new name. I want Twosies to choose.” She shyly added, “I remember you. You were there.”

“I was there. And now I am here and happy.” Anjou thought it was important to add, “Now that you are here, Twosies can be happy.”

She smiled a beautiful smile, and he hurried even more for their sake.

Such devotion should be rewarded.

It made him miss his bondmates.

He fairly flew toward home.

Boon and some of his people kept up. In fact, Juuyu opened the door for them, and Colt sauntered through first. The horse clansman had made many young friends during the rescue mission, and he was soon carrying and cuddling as many crossers as could find purchase. Juuyu was quieter about it, but he also began checking in with each child. For his part, Anjou had a star-child to find and … ah. Twosies huddled next to Eijion a bottom step, away from the rest.

The other cat spoke in soothing tones, declaring that Argent’s promises were not cruel tricks, even if he was a fox. It was safe to trust. It was safe to believe. It was safe to make plans. Wouldn’t his best friend need to learn her way around Stately House? Which parts would Twosies show her first?

Anjou carried Try closer.

Eiji looked up and dimpled.

And all activity seized up when Twosies spotted Try and shrieked a note that was probably more suited to skies than foyers. Before its echo had faded, the reunion was accomplished, accompanied by an excess of scolding and weeping and the peaceful drift of pink petals.

Feeling unaccountably shy given all they’d shared, Anjou sat on the step beside Eiji, who took his hand, kissed his cheek, and murmured, “You are radiant.”

“This is a good place.”

They searched each other’s faces, and Anjou was still trying to think what to say when Jacques came to sit on Eiji’s other side. Taking Eiji’s other hand, Jacques kissed its back and lightly inquired, “Have you settled in with Deece and his boys?”

“Quite comfortably,” Eiji assured.

“Anjou is mine now.”

Eiji shyly sought Anjou’s gaze. “He is the most fortunate of toms.”

“He founded our hearth and graces it.” Jacques’ gaze was steady, his posture commanding. “Sonnet cherishes her tom and will not want to share him with any but me.”

“I understand.” Eiji brushed a kiss to Jacques’ cheek and glanced across the foyer. “I think we are each suited to our place.”

They followed Eiji’s gaze to where Deece stood, fingers gently tugging Rake’s ear while he listened to something Ninook Elderbough was saying. As if sensing his audience, Deece glanced over. And immediately went pink.

“Lord,” Jacques breathed. “Deece is always saying Minx spoils him. You’re proof.”

Eiji said, “If a lady mistress is pleased, all at her hearth have reason to purr.”

“Which is why I’m jealously guarding my man. But that doesn’t mean you should shy away from the courtesies of friends.”

“Friendship is the strength of a community.” With a grateful gesture, Eiji added, “I will respect your clan’s wishes.”

Jacques beamed, bussed Eiji’s cheek, then announced, “I must steal Anjou. Come along, my good man. We’ve an appointment to keep.”

Bidding Eiji an affectionate farewell, Anjou leapt to follow the man who would jealously guard him. Jacques angled his head, encouraging him closer, and so they proceeded along Stately House’s halls arm-in-arm. A necessity, as it turned out, for the section to which Jacques led him was as exquisitely guarded as the passage that had first brought him to Jacques.

Which is why Anjou was caught up in thoughts of stars and sendings and the sorts of places where a tom might steal away to tryst with his bonded.

Jacques stopped walking.

Anjou glanced around, glanced up.

“When we’re like this—the closer the better, especially touching—I catch impressions. Not thoughts, exactly, but a mélange of moods and cravings and hopes and intentions. It’s hard to explain. I just know things.”

“Oui?”

“Lord, I’ve said it before. You’re an ego boost. It’s lovely to be wanted, and I’d love to be wanton, but needs must.” He warned, “Our appointment is with Hisoka Twineshaft.”

Anjou thought it was only natural to be nervous about finally meeting the spokesperson for his clan. Hisoka Twineshaft had shaken up Anjou’s ideals. While most of the young toms in his acquaintance whispered and wondered why their leader was both unattached and abstaining, Anjou sat in awe. Their spokesperson was cordial, articulate, and comely. A powerful male.

But today, Hisoka only looked wan and weary, and Jacques’ soft sound of concern was as good as a command. It was only natural for Anjou to rush forward, but then he remembered himself and wavered there, feeling young and foolish and every kind of clumsy.

In a voice known the world over, Hisoka said, “Good evening, Kinsman.”

“May I … offer something?” Anjou shot a pleading look at Jacques, hoping for guidance. “What though? What do I even do? I am too moved to be of use to anyone, least of all the best of toms.”

Jacques, who had his arms around the half-star who sometimes drifted through the house, said, “We were invited to make certain Hisoka sleeps.”

“Invited by whom?” Hisoka asked warily.

“Lord, who didn’t weigh in? Harmonious was certainly the loudest voice, and Lapis did his share of hinting. But Sinder’s the one who all but ordered me here. Apparently on Fend’s behalf. So you’ve a nephew to thank for today’s intervention.” Jacques petted Rhomiko’s loose hair. “Let us teach your Romeo what you need in order to go deep.”

“Romeo …?”

“They’re a star crosser, so why not? Rhomiko can be your star-crossed lover.”

Hisoka looked increasingly unsettled. “That is not the nature of our connection.”

“Nor will I allow your story to descend into tragedy,” vowed Jacques. “Can you trust me?”

Gaze downcast, Hisoka said, “Jacques, I owe you so many apologies.”

“You don’t, though. Not one. But you may require some from me. I … well, I presumed a bit. Anjou, the door?”

Grateful for something to do, he withdrew in order to swing it wide. And immediately began to purr.

Jacques said, “And here is Sonnet.”

The wolf hesitated on the threshold, clad in loose pants, hair falling around his shoulders, and feet bare. “Sensei?” he ventured. “Can you endure another? I’ll go if you need me to, but Jacques thought … perhaps?”

Hisoka seemed confused. “Good day to you, Sonnet. You may enter. But why …?”

Jacques released Rhomiko in order to kneel before Hisoka. “I will always want what you want. That hasn’t changed. But other things have. How much can you tell?”

The cat’s gaze darted from face to face, and he finally whispered, “What have you done?”

“Chosen once. And then again.” Jacques’ happiness seemed to suffuse the room. “Are you shocked by my selfishness?”

“Shocked? No. Threes and trees go deeper than roots, and trinities are as strong as braided cords. But … what is this radiance? You have become something more than you once were.”

“A Smythe. First of Smythes, and if it’s not too outré, a founder. Do you think I’d be allowed a clan? Officially, I mean.” Placing a hand over his belly, he confessed, “I’m in a state of expectancy. Impish influences. I’m carrying a beautiful legacy. Nobody said?”

“Michael.”

“Good of him. Did you have any questions?” Jacques gently added, “Concerns?”

Anjou slipped his hand into Sonnet’s and drew him closer, wanting to lend Jacques their support. They knelt on either side and awaited Hisoka’s verdict.

Finally, the cat asked, “May I see?”

“Certainly.”

While Jacques slipped vest buttons, Hisoka’s attention veered. “Anjou Bonhomie …?”

“Anjou Smythe. I am Jacques’ man.”

“So you are bonded?”

Sonnet raised his palm, and Anjou gratefully set his fingertips upon it. “Twice. Sonnet is my lady mistress. I wanted—begged—to be chosen, but I also aspired to be like you.”

Hisoka’s brows rose. “In what sense?”

“I am free.”

The spokesperson’s eyes widened, but then his whole expression softened. “Your bonded cannot rule over you.”

“My lady mistress, she is perfect.”

Sonnet made a soft noise of protest. “I’m male at the moment.”

“Oh, I know.” Anjou let his gaze rove appreciatively. “Must I say it again? You are perfect.”

Suddenly, Rhomiko dropped to their knees beside Anjou, hands on offer. “Is that important?”

“Which part? Male or female?” He took their hands, turned them, and kissed their knuckles. “Non. A cat can find pleasure no matter their partner’s form.”

Rhomiko’s lips parted, but they slowly shook their head. Withdrawing their hands, they sat back on their heels while Jacques passed along his vest, then his necktie.

“Did I misunderstand?” Anjou prompted as he folded fine cloth.

Rhomiko’s fingers rested fleetingly on his arm. “Why was Hisoka pleased that your bonded cannot rule over you?”

“That? How to explain. It is like an instinct. A tom lives to please their lady. He can refuse her nothing.” Anjou shrugged. “That is the way of things for cats. Very traditional. Customary.”

Sonnet shyly contributed, “Anjou treats me like a lady, and I like that. More than I expected. It was … surprising? Like the fulfillment of a wish I didn’t think to make, didn’t know I could make. But because I’m also often … err … this way, Anjou is not so gentlemanly because he has to be. He wants to be.”

Rhomiko said, “You are both. Sometimes male, sometimes female.”

“I wanted to be a mother. So yes, I’m both.”

“But I am neither.”

“What of it? You have your own perfection.” Anjou nuzzled the half-star’s cheek. “And I do not think you are lacking in admirers.”

Romiko whispered their thanks, but Anjou understood why they might not be convinced. Words were nice, but vows … ah. A vow could bind you and free you and change you.

Just then, Hisoka murmured, “Oh, my,” and all attention swung his way.

“Lord,” Jacques whispered. Then raising his voice, “Hajime, come look! There’s a leaf.”

Hisoka had always been able to relax in Jacques’ keeping. For years, the man had seen to his comfort, providing chocolate biscuits and paperback romances. Now, Jacques guided Rhomiko into his former place, and most of the comforting was coming from an unapologetically motherly male. Sonnet smelled faintly of lavender, but there was something else in the air. Not a scent, perhaps but definitely something. Finally, he murmured, “What is that?”

The young tom quietly answered, “You are sensing our Jacques, no?”

“Impish allure,” Jacques said, apology in his gaze. He’d traded places with Catalan, who’d been on dragon duty when the rest arrived. Jacques reclined amidst pillows, fingers gently sifting through blue hair, while a sleeping Lapis clung like a long-lost friend, his head now pillowed upon Jacques’ thigh.

Jacques inspired this kind of affection.

Or perhaps trust was a truer word.

He certainly inspired intimacies.

And he knew how to coax for passion.

Hisoka got a little lost in memories, and Jacques sought his gaze. As if guessing the direction his thoughts had taken, he offered a sultry sort of smile. Then with a subtle lift of his chin, Jacques indicated the person in Hisoka’s arms. As if to say, there is your Romeo, waiting more patiently than you deserve. Reward their devotion.

There was sympathy in the man’s gaze.

Hisoka wasn’t sure if it was for him … or for Rhomiko.

Jacques’ expression grew pensive, and he said, “Even warded, even across the room, I have an effect. Probably on any Amaranthine. Am I keeping you awake? I could go. Leave you to the tender mercies of my very capable bondmates.”

“Stay.” Hisoka shook his head and absently pulled Rhomiko closer. “You are affecting, but … what are the effects?”

“Not sure,” Jacques admitted. “Not much to go on. These are early days. Argent will sort it all out eventually.”

Hisoka was nearly as baffled by Jacques’ new soul sense as he was by the baby rock imps. New things had always been so rare, yet he was surrounded by them. And he didn’t think he minded. Indeed, he was feeling younger … adventurous … daring … ready for anything.

Jacques asked, “Do you sleep, Romeo?”

“No.”

“I suppose that makes you an ideal guardian.”

Hisoka could feel Rhomiko’s gaze and cautiously met it. That shimmer of living light, gentle green sparks, still captivated him. He was held by Rhomiko’s gaze just as effectively as he was by Sonnet’s arms. And he couldn’t look away.

They said, “I do not sleep, but I can dream.”

“Is that where you learn the truth of things?” There was a whiffling mumble from Lapis, and then Jacques confessed, “My dreams have been a mess of hopes and fears and memories and … well, they can be perfectly lovely, too.”

“Dreams raise questions,” said Anjou. “Which are said to summon answers.”

Rhomiko said, “I have never questioned a dream. Does that make me na?ve?”

“Non. But a shared dream may be the safest place for questions. And confessions. And new beginnings, come to think.” Jacques warmly confided, “Argent is at his most honest in dreams.”

Hisoka grew increasingly aware of Rhomiko’s gaze. “Hmm?”

“I cannot rule over you?”

“Not in the manner of lady mistresses. No.”

“But I am the wish you did not know you could make. I am the answer to everything.”

Hisoka wasn’t often cornered. He could have rebuffed the imp in his arms. But with Jacques, Anjou, and Sonnet for witnesses, he ruefully acknowledged Rhomiko’s claim on him. “So it would seem.”