Left Wanting

Lapis might be flightless, but he could run at speeds that rivaled the wind. At least, he could when he wasn’t trying to hasten through populated areas. The kidnapper’s course forced him to cut through an urban district where shoppers strolled along to the tunes of Christmas music past. Putting a fire escape to good use, he resorted to rooftops for a while, pausing to scoop up an unhappy hairpin. Suburbs were somewhat easier, though a contrary course correction forced him to zigzag from one block to the next.

This was hopeless.

He needed help. But whose?

Hisoka was cloistered.

Argent didn’t carry a phone.

Harmonious required direction.

Adoona-soh was in India.

But there were other Elderboughs. Choice made, Lapis kept running while he waited for his call to connect.

“Hey,”came the welcome answer.

“Boon, they took Isla.”

“Keep talking.”

“Fox magic,” he managed, breaths becoming ragged. “At least one. Possibly two. They have her, and they’re flying east. Once they reach the ocean …!”

“Gotcha. You need wings.”

“I beg of you.”

“On it.”

And that was all.

Lapis ran on, following a trail of breadcrumbs that rained down like taunts. Isla’s protections were many and subtle, but her captors were stripping them away one by one. When they’d discarded the last of her hairpin array, his rings began to fall.

This wasn’t at all what he’d had in mind when he’d told Isla he’d be in pursuit.

He entered an industrial district, all shipping containers and security fencing. And then he was out of places to run. Standing at the end of a breakwater, surrounded by the lap of waves and the lonesome ding of buoys, he wavered on the brink.

Should he swim?

Much as he disliked seawater, he was willing, but his speed would be no match for a fox in flight.

He placed another call. To his staff. Because he was going to miss several appointments. And then he notified Canarian. To his surprise, the acting leader of the Amaranthine Council already knew about his predicament.

“Help is on the way,” he promised. “Focus on reaching Isla. I’ll handle the fallout.”

So Lapis put away his phone and focused. He began to hum, seeking willing winds. And to weave sigils. And to send them flying where he could not go.

Panic was setting in. And despair. But then a sharp whistle turned his head, and someone dropped to his side.

“You?” he ventured.

“I was nearest. And more than willing.” Cyril Sunfletch held out his hands. “Will your dignity permit …?”

Lapis didn’t care about anything but Isla. “They took her.”

“I heard. Isla Ward.” Cyril hefted him and took to the skies.

“I love her.”

“Dear boy!” And more softly, “You looked radiant together last night.”

“I told her.” Lapis pointed urgently. “I must reach her.”

“And so you shall. We are your support.” Voice brimming with pride, he added, “All you need, we will be.”

Half a dozen black wolves tore past, taking their bearing from Lapis.

“My security detail,” Cyril explained. “Nightspangle wolves. And the others are making their way to you.”

Lapis knew he should be singing. It was almost the only thing he could do. Yet all he managed was a weak trill.

“Here, now. Bear with us. Canarian Evernhold is a resourceful fellow. Did you know he used to be a playwright? These days, he scripts on a grander scale, but he’s a genius when it comes to directing his players toward the best possible outcome.”

Cyril was reaching heights and speeds that caused Lapis to huddle against the avian’s spare frame. He dearly wished for his fur-lined cloak. And for the one who’d had it specially made. All at once, he dared to hope. “The others, you said. Who is coming?”

“The old guard, as it were. Canarian wants you to know that you’ll have the full support of the Five.”

An impossibility, surely. It was Dichotomy Day. All of them had been booked for years. And would be booked for years to come. He knew for a fact that Harmonious was in South America.

“Canarian speculated that the Hightip sisters might be planning to corner Lord Mettlebright. I understand Miss Ward has strong ties to Stately House.”

“Born and raised there. And fostered by Ginkgo Mettlebright.” Lapis felt the first faint glimmers of hope. Argent wouldn’t let anything happen to Isla. She was as dear as a daughter. She was part of his den.

“What of Hisoka?” Cyril asked.

“I don’t know,” Lapis admitted. But he didn’t like to think how Hisoka would take the news of Isla’s capture. Could one so heartbroken bear up under another blow? They must reach Isla in time.

Jacques crooked a finger to lift Ginkgo’s face. “Lord, you’re stunning.”

“You think? I feel ridiculous.”

“The pressed powder Anjou used has a hint of shimmer. Very moonbeam. Perfect for snaring the regard of a wolf.”

“Pretty sure that happened months ago. And without any of this frou-frou stuff.” Ginkgo grumbled, “I want my denim back.”

Jacques whispered, “Shall I add glitter to your hair?”

“Save it for your own wolf.”

“There’s an idea.” And holding Ginkgo’s gaze for several beats, he asked, “Do you need me to pinch you?”

“If this is a dream, leave me to it.”

“Wolves,” Jacques solemnly intoned. “And—at least in my case—cats.”

“Anjou’s great. When I left, he was starting on Kyrie’s makeup. Pretty sure little bro is going to steal the show.” The half-fox hesitated, then quirked a smile. “You’re totally picturing Anjou with glitter in his hair.”

“I am caught out.” Jacques dipped into gossipy tones while he fussed with the drape of Ginkgo’s silks. “We enjoyed a minor stir yesterday when some lost property arrived on our doorstep. All the things Anjou and Eiji had packed along to that dreadful island.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask. What kind of stuff does a young tom pack when answering a consort call?”

“Powder with a hint of shimmer, for one. But there were a few precious things: mementos of home, his favorite hearth slippers, some weaponry. But as you might imagine, it’s mostly mantraps, and I look forward to falling into them.”

Ginkgo laughed.

“I’m sure Anjou would loan you some harem pants, if you want to up your shimmer game.”

“Thanks, but no thanks. This get-up’s too glamorous, but at least you can’t see through it.”

“That’s the spirit.” Jacques was enormously glad that Transcendence had been bold enough to make an uncommon choice. And that Ginkgo would be rightly cherished.

The half-fox’s expression slowly shifted. “Are you doing that on purpose?”

“What have I done?”

“When you’re happy, it’s sort of … catching.”

“I’m a good influence, hmm? Boniface is quite sure I’m a bad one.”

Ginkgo breathed deeply. “This is it, isn’t it? Impish allure.”

“That does seem to be the consensus.”

“I don’t get this same feeling from the trees. They’re nice. Pleasant. But this?” He went up on tiptoe. “What is this?”

“I’m substantially warded, but you’re inside my sphere of influence.” Jacques took Ginkgo by the chin, this time to prevent him getting any closer. “Hold that thought. Actually, I’d like to hear that thought. How do you feel?”

Ginkgo eased back, his ears at odd angles. “Curious, I guess. Hate to admit it, but I really wanted a taste.”

“That would be unwise at this juncture.” And chucking him under the chin before stepping back, he wryly added, “Me, the voice of reason. Who could have guessed?”

“And just like that, the pull’s gone. Say, does it affect the kids?”

“Non.”

“The wardstones?”

“Bon-Bon and I do seem to have established a swift rapport with ours, but who can say why? Our rock baby may simply find him charming. Many do. Quite the mystery.”

“Oh, come on. He’s cute.”

“Mon dieu. You’ve taken leave of your senses.”

“You’re both … I dunno. Let’s just say you’re both something else. In a good way. It works for you.”

That’s when Boon strode into the room, his phone to his ear, his expression fierce. He said, “On it.” And ending the call, he closed distance, gave his customary ponytail a restless tug, heaved a sigh and said, “Sorry, little bro. We’ve got a situation.”

Hisoka hadn’t been outdoors since that one night when Fend had cornered him into a prowl through the woods. Now he strolled beside Rhomiko, taking an admittedly circuitous route toward the Song Circle. It was their ultimate destination since Tsumiko had asked if he’d officiate Ginkgo’s bonding ceremony. Hisoka was honored. But also uneasy with the fact that Argent wasn’t here because he’d taken Hisoka’s place elsewhere.

“He’s missing his son’s bonding ceremony because of me.”

Rhomiko hummed. “Does the absence of one’s parent affect the ceremony’s outcome?”

“I suppose not.”

“If Mother does not witness the declaration of a bond between us, will that bond fade?”

Hisoka’s step faltered. “Have you become interested in such things?”

“I have learned about Amaranthine bonds and about human weddings. About reaver contracts and about the customs of several clans.” Rhomiko asked, “Which do you prefer?”

“Goodness. Who have you been speaking with?”

“Several people. All of whom were completely candid with their answers.”

“I’m not trying to avoid the question.”

Rhomiko sighed. Actually sighed.

Hisoka felt bad. “I was only trying to understand what your reasons for asking might be.”

“What do my motives matter? There is no need to align your answer to mine.” And they calmly repeated, “What sort of bonding ceremony would you prefer?”

His first impulse was to remark upon the presumption of the question.

His next was to make some remark about the fickleness of cats.

But Rhomiko’s stance was perfectly, pointedly neutral. And their gaze—while not unkind—did not waver while they waited.

“Something quiet,” he tentatively offered. “Not a Song Circle gathering. No television crews.”

“You do not want anyone to know about my claim?”

“No!” Hisoka frowned. “Wherever I go, you will be by my side. Word will swiftly spread, but for a bonding ceremony, I would greatly prefer something quiet.”

Rhomiko inclined their head and gestured for more.

Even though Hisoka had never given the matter any prior consideration, he immediately knew what would please him most. “For my witnesses, I would want there to be a tree and a star. And Jacques.”

Rhomiko’s expression gentled. “Will Eri do?”

Hisoka blinked. “You have met Eri?”

That earned him a flat look.

“Yes,” Hisoka meekly answered. “Eri will do.”

And with no further discussion, Rhomiko took him by the hand and led him onto the narrow, snow-tromped path that took them to Andor’s cabin.

He bowed his head to hide his smile. After countless centuries of sidestepping propositions and proposals, Hisoka would pledge himself to the one person who didn’t bother to ask.

Andor didn’t look especially surprised to find them standing side-by-side upon his doorstep.

Eri drew them inside, presenting ribbon-wrapped posies, as if their impromptu plans had been anticipated. And after Andor had heard them out, he grunted and called, “Hajime.”

All at once, there was a tree with them, patient with an introduction that had apparently been made several times already, and quite prepared to grant Hisoka’s wish. He was gone and back with a vaguely frazzled Jacques. But the instant the man’s gaze fell to the bouquets in his and Rhomiko’s hands, he drew himself up.

“Am I here to witness a happy event? Or … lord, am I giving you away?”

Rhomiko smiled softly. “You will give him back.”

“Too right, I will. To you and no other.” And turning to Andor, he beamed. “Do say there will be star wine for afters.”

The bear huffed and ambled out.

Jacques wasted no time. First pulling Rhomiko into his arms, he urged, “Be good to him. He needs minding.”

“He will want for nothing.”

Hisoka had the sense that this was the beginning of vows.

But then Jacques’ hands were framing his face, and the man solemnly said, “Thank you for your trust. I release you from our vow. So when I say be happy, it’s not an order. Just the usual sort of felicitations.”

“Thank you.” A meager offering, considering how many difficulties this man had spared him. “Truly.”

“Are we all here, then?” Jacques checked.

Hisoka said, “A tree, a star, and you.”

“Lord. Still flattered, but a trifle confused. Which star, exactly?” Jacques pointed up. “I can’t be the only one who’s noticed.”

“I thought Eri …?” began Hisoka.

That star shook their head.

“I thought so, too,” admitted Rhomiko. “But another has come and wishes to stand with us.”

Hisoka’s heart leapt, for his first thought was for Novi, his oldest friend.

A knock on the door, and everyone traded glances.

“I’ll just get that, shall I?” offered Jacques.

The door swung wide.

Showing perfect poise, Jacques inquired, “May I ask who’s calling?”

There was a brief pause, during which Eri and Rhomiko edged closer to the door. Hisoka remained where he was, hoping against hope that Novi hadn’t descended. He’d never wanted that, and Hisoka wouldn’t wish for it.

But an entirely new voice genially declared, “Most know me as Bethiel.”

“Lord. We’re honored, I’m sure. Do come in.” And turning to catch Hisoka’s eye, Jacques widened his eyes and announced, “Bethiel is here.”

Rhomiko was first to present their palms. “Hisoka wanted a star. Thank you for coming, but … did you descend? You have, haven’t you?”

One of the foremost angels from Amaranthine lore, Bethiel of the Changing Winds, matched palms with Rhomiko. “I am newly descended, yes. A strange sensation. I’m sure I’ll adjust.”

“Just for us?”

“No, not entirely.” And directing a warm smile Hisoka’s way, he said, “I’m rarely sent anyplace for only one reason.”