No Use Pretending

Hisoka wasn’t ready to leave his room. He couldn’t have said why he needed to stay. It wasn’t as if he had any particular attachment to the suite, unless the simple act of sleeping safely here had turned it into a sanctuary. One he clung to, even though this wasn’t his rightful place. Home had always been in Keishi, where he owned land that had once supported an eldermost grove.

Gone now.

Long dead.

He poked through piles on the bureau without much interest. He’d read all these books, but he didn’t like to complain. Jacques would have noticed. He’d have refreshed the piles and filled the empty biscuit tins. He’d have brought tea trays and household gossip and Michael. Because Jacques had always known what Hisoka liked and wanted and needed.

Alone in the suite, Hisoka paced to the window and gazed out at a gray sea under gray skies. Mournful hues. Lifeless. Lonesome.

A voice filtered through the emptiness, tentative. “Uncle?”

“Deece.”

“Am I interrupting?”

Hisoka balled his fists at his sides. “Not especially.”

“May I bring Rhomiko outside?”

“I am not that child’s keeper.”

His nephew hesitantly contradicted him. “Rhomiko is not a child.”

Too tired for debate, Hisoka waved listlessly, pointlessly. “Where will you take them?”

“Nonny wants to introduce Rhomiko to Randolla. They’ll be measured for clothes.”

“I see.”

“Is that all right with you?”

“Rhomiko is free to do as they wish.”

Another pause, and then Deece promised, “I will keep them safe for you.”

Reassuring. Frustrating. Because with the star-child gone, Hisoka was stranded alone in a room that echoed with memories of better days … and into which the gray world was creeping.

Wait. Better? Were they really better days?

Hisoka slunk to the bed and hid under the covers, ashamed for wanting to go back, to abandon Nemi. To betray his vow and bury a truth that wouldn’t change.

The door opened, and Hisoka tensed. A teacup clattered faintly against a saucer, and steam carried the first whisper of steeping tea. His favorite blend. Jacques.

Hisoka quickly pushed aside his blankets, but … no. It was Rhomiko. They shuffled awkwardly forward, bumping the door shut with one hip. They were resplendent in a new tunic and wearing—of all things—embroidered hearth slippers.

“They are a gift from Catalan,” Rhomiko announced happily. “He asked a friend to make them for me.”

“Very nice.”

“There is a pair for you as well. Since your hearth is my home.”

Hisoka couldn’t argue, but matching hearth slippers implied … ah, well, they could imply any number of things. However, the underlying meaning was one of belonging, and Rhomiko had stated it plainly enough. The two of them shared a home.

“Thank you.”

Rhomiko came forward, cup and saucer in both hands, focused on not spilling a drop.

Hisoka reached out with both hands, thinking to rescue the cup.

But then Rhomiko said, “I met your Michael.”

Hisoka flinched backward, and cup and saucer jumbled to the floor, bouncing upon the rug, staining it with splashed tea.

“He is beautiful,” Rhomiko said, dropping to their knees on the rug, blotting at the spilled tea with their sleeve.

“He is not mine.”

They hummed in a way that begged to differ. “You say that about me, too.”

Hisoka felt chastised. But also stubborn.

Rhomiko looked up, their expression serene. “I asked your Michael to visit. He was glad to agree.”

“I … why would you do that?”

“Because you will let in his brightness.”

A point Hisoka wished he could argue, but he’d never been able to resist Michael. Or refuse him. Taking the boy for his apprentice at Ingress Academy had been a shocking departure after centuries without an apprentice. An embarrassingly selfish impulse, especially at a time when he should have been fully devoting himself to carrying off the Emergence.

Back then, he’d been intrigued by some of Michael’s little habits, especially his sigilcraft. He’d suspected there was another mentor, but he hadn’t pressed for details lest he lose Michael’s trust. Only in hindsight had the foxy overtones come into focus. And then Argent’s need had become Hisoka’s concern. For Michael’s sake.

“He will be here for your sake,” Rhomiko said, as if they knew Hisoka’s thoughts.

Because Hisoka’s needs had become their concern?

And yet here Hisoka sat, pretending not to see. Like a small child who believes that closing their eyes makes them safe from discovery.

Michael would never know how much Hisoka might have sacrificed to keep him.

Conversely, Michael’s good opinion had buoyed Hisoka during those last, worst years, when the Emergence kept hitting roadblocks and snagging in red tape. After long weeks of special sessions and treaty talks, he’d tumble into his student’s waiting arms, to be scolded and tended and tucked in.

“He probably saved the world.”

Rhomiko stood and reached with both hands, framing Hisoka’s face. “I do not think he is finished. Let him scold you and tend you and tuck you in?”

Hisoka wondered if the reason he couldn’t refuse was because he wanted so badly to see Michael. Or because Rhomiko had also become someone else Hisoka couldn’t refuse.

Rhomiko was unusually quiet during Michael’s visit—posture respectful, expression thoughtful. Hisoka wasn’t sure why he’d expected traces of jealousy or resentment. Had he wanted to inspire some sort of posturing? That possibility was both unexpected and … frankly embarrassing. People generally assumed he liked being in charge. In all areas.

Hisoka rather wanted Jacques’ opinion, but in the meantime, it was clear that Rhomiko both liked Michael and loved the puzzle he’d brought.

“I wanted your opinion, Sensei. I understand you already had some contact with these?” Michael patted the green crystal in Rhomiko’s arms. “While I’m humbled by the trust everyone has placed in me, I’m honestly baffled.”

“There are four,” Rhomiko said eagerly. “All four were found?”

“Yes. We’ve been sharing them around, taking turns interacting with them. It’s haphazard, but until I can sort out what they need ….” Michael ended with a shrug.

“Do you know what you need, little sibling?” Rhomiko crooned.

Michael brightened. “That’s right. These would be your half-siblings. On your father’s side.”

“Dayith. Yes.” They had shed their shirt in order to press the flat of the chrysalis to their belly. The top of the glittering stone came nearly to Rhomiko’s chin. They cuddled it close and rocked from side to side, humming softly.

Michael quietly asked, “Do you hear that?”

Hisoka found his voice. “The wardstone is tuning its song to Rhomiko’s.”

“They’re definitely responsive to singing, humming, instrumental music. Even wolfsong. But once the music ends, they lapse into silence. It’s like they’re waiting for something. And I have no idea what.”

“Whom,” Rhomiko quietly corrected.

“Is that so?” Michael looked to Hisoka for confirmation.

With unaccustomed vulnerability, Hisoka said more than he needed to. “I have considerable experience with trees and with stars, but I know next to nothing about the mountain clans. We will have to learn together.”

Eyes alight over the prospect, Michael bumped shoulders with Rhomiko. “We’ll be relying on you, Rhomiko-sensei.”

“I will only know what they tell me.”

“Ah, but you hear more than we do. Perhaps in the same manner as Kindred who are attuned to the voices of their clan’s Kith.”

Rhomiko clarified. “I hear a song.”

Michael raised a finger. “I hear a song, too. What I’m asking is … does the song you hear have words?”

Rhomiko’s head tipped to one side, then the other. Then with a small smile, they gently pointed out, “These are babies. I do not think they have words for what they need. Only understanding.”

“So they may not be able to speak until they, well, we’ve been assuming they’ll hatch or emerge somehow. But until they find their words, they can’t tell us how to help them.”

“A mystery that has protected them for many years.”

Michael’s brows drew together. “I suppose so. But how did you know that?”

“I was in a similar state.” Rhomiko’s gaze sought Hisoka’s. “Sometimes, the only way to be safe is to hide.”

Hisoka tensed. Did Rhomiko mean him?

Michael cheerfully took their words at face value. “I do hope they can somehow sense that they’re safe with us. And that we’ll do all we can for them, both now and after their emergence.”

Rhomiko asked, “Do you love them?”

“Mmm, I wonder. It’s a little like waiting for a baby. Or babies, this time around. My wife is expecting, and the twins should arrive soon. I’ve never seen those little ones, but I know without a shadow of doubt that I will love them. I suppose I do already. Only there’s a part of me that’s holding back until I can hold them in my arms and tell them their names and make every foolish promise I can think of.”

“And once they know your embrace and learn their names and trust your foolish promises … they will love you, too?”

Michael beamed. “That’s the usual way of such things.”

Hisoka caught Rhomiko watching him again and averted his face.

But deep down, he wanted to know what kind of foolish promises Rhomiko might make. And if he could trust them to teach him what he needed. Because right now, Hisoka wanted to hide. From everything. Even Michael.