Eastern Bride

Isla’s first waking thought was that Ginkgo would be terribly disappointed in her. She’d been raised by a trickster, for pity’s sake. Foxy pranks were nothing new. At home, she was always on guard. But away? What a mess.

Nona’s and Senna’s illusion had preyed upon Isla’s hopes, and by the simple act of wanting it to be true, she’d essentially surrendered herself to the people topping the Amaranthine Council’s Most Wanted list. Isla had attended enough briefings to know what the Hightip sisters were capable of. And after the recent rescue mission that had taken Sensei away, their close association with the Rogue had gone from suspected to substantiated.

This meant that Isla was facing even odds of being either eaten or raped. Or both, though not necessarily in that order.

But after some cautious boundary-testing, she came to a heartening conclusion. She was being underestimated.

Either the dears had no idea what she could do. Or they thought she wouldn’t try anything at their current altitude. Which, granted, was a factor. But not the first thing with which she needed to deal. Isla had sigils to trigger and wards to construct. All under the cover of her own repertoire of illusions, many of which had been handed down by her brilliant older sister Darya, whose aptitude for strategy had even kept Argent on his toes.

She hadn’t played games like this in a long while. And certainly not with stakes this high.

But Isla had no trouble recalling the orderly deployment of tiny barriers that would mask the subtle movements of fingers. Moments later, she made certain that all the vixen carrying her would notice were slow breaths, a steady heartbeat, and dead weight. And by the simple act of wanting it to be true, the fox would trust her hopes … and fall prey to Isla’s cunning.

Lapis slowly loosened his hold on silver fur. He scanned upward as the confusion of red foxes dissipated, leaving Nona Hightip at Adoona-soh’s mercy. Well enough, but not where Lapis’s focus belonged.

His ring.

His lady.

Argent was too big to sit astride, so the dragon sat cross-legged in the middle of the fox’s back, partly sheltered by two of Argent’s many tails. While he prowled, Lapis scattered sigils—some to seek, some to snare, some to obscure.

Now that he was paying attention to more than his own fears, Lapis was able to pick out some of the preparations Argent had been able to make. Sigils slowly wheeled in overlapping layers. And by some command Lapis couldn’t fathom, several silver foxes strolled onto the scene. Duplicates and decoys. These Argents carried other riders—Tsumiko, Michael, Ginkgo, even Isla herself.

Convincing.

Tempting.

Confusing.

Would Senna drop Isla in favor of a new acquisition?

Lapis hastily sought the spark of the remnant stone that had guided him thus far. “She’s above us, Argent. Leftwise and lowering.”

The fox’s ears snapped up as Senna let her illusion drop. She crouched in midair, Isla hanging limp in her jaws.

Lapis gasped her name and yanked urgently at Argent’s fur, but instead of rushing to the young woman’s rescue, one silver ear gave a disdainful flick.

“But … she is there,” Lapis pleaded.

Argent began to circle higher, and Lapis coaxed a largeish sigil in the ring’s direction. If it touched Senna, she’d be marked. Exposed. But his handiwork passed ineffectually through the decoy even as Isla’s ring—and presumably the vixen carrying her—backed up and away.

Suddenly, Isla was calling out. “Argent, I’m here! Please! It hurts!”

Lapis tensed.

Argent’s ear flicked.

“How can you tell?” Lapis whispered, his stomach in knots.

But then from another direction, Isla whimpered. Hair wild, hand outstretched, she piteously asked, “Don’t you care?”

He didn’t need the ear flick to tell him that this wasn’t the young woman he knew. She would never have taken that tone with Argent. Or anyone. He supposed the illusion had been calculated to cut Argent. But making her seem young and fearful, with that uncertain quaver? If Senna thought her puppet was a passable representation, she hadn’t put much effort into researching her chosen bait.

Lapis quietly warned, “I doubt I can let Isla know we’re here without Senna noticing.”

Argent shot a look of pure disdain over his shoulder, then gently cuffed him with a white-tipped tail. As if to say get on with it.

That’s when Harmonious Starmark—bless his tender heart—blundered in, unable to ignore the illusion’s pleading.

Once Isla was certain she could move without her captor noticing, she opened her eyes and looked for whatever had caused the vixen’s growled oaths. To her amazement, a silver fox sprang past with Papka riding his shoulders. Then came Uncle Jackie, astride another Argent, looking rakishly debonair with his aviator goggles. And yes, there was Mum on yet another silver fox, her favorite polearm at the ready.

Isla had to stifle a laugh. The whole scene was ridiculous, but Senna Hightip didn’t know her family well enough to understand that all of these would-be rescuers couldn’t possibly be here. But the common denominator was a clear enough message.

Argent was here on their behalf.

Sorting through illusions took a while. The sky was full of Amaranthine in truest form. She was prepared to dismiss them as more figments, but then Harmonious Starmark raced to the rescue of a decidedly insulting imitation of herself. He skidded uselessly through the image, looking as bewildered as a puppy as he snuffled around, searching for her scent.

She’d swear it was really him. But how?

Isla decided to set aside the means for now, because Harmonious, Adoona-soh, and Argent represented a huge opportunity. And there was Juuyu, and … oh, my. Unless she was being deceived again, that was Hisoka-sensei.

Truly? It certainly seemed so. Mind-boggling. The original Five had tracked the vixens? Or nearly so. All that was needed to complete the set was Lapis.

Her heart clenched as she searched the gathering of allies, however, none of them carried a rider. But then a fluting call heralded the arrival of a dragon on the wing. Blue scales shimmered as Lapis climbed in widening circles—powerful, graceful, glorious. A glimpse of what might have been, if only Lapis had the use of those wings.

And then faintly, gently, from amidst the eye-catching confusion all around, she caught the piercing note of a remnant song. She knew that stone. It belonged to one of Lapis’s rings. One she’d worn the night before, when he’d adorned her fingers and coaxed for kisses and spilled his secrets in swaying tones.

Now, her fingers were bare of rings.

Yet that distinctive stone gleamed brighter, a sure sign, a signal.

Senna Hightip noticed it, too. And with silky delight, she said, “I’ve found you.”

As if she’d managed something.

Anyone with the minutest trace of sensitivity might notice the veritable beacon Lapis was nurturing. No doubt with dragon song. And of course that remnant would do its best for him. Because he doted on his crystals, and they adored him in return. A dragon’s admiration was irresistible. And his message was as clear.

Somewhere below, quite near the water, Lapis was calling, and Isla was ready with her answer.

Letting a key few illusions drop, she smilingly asked, “Senna Hightip? Wonderful news.” And triggering the sigil she’d drawn on her palm, she slapped it against the vixen’s shoulder. “You’ve moved to the top of the Council’s schedule. They’ll be able to deal with you now.”

Senna’s snarl cut short as luminous threads flickered to life, speedily spreading outward, a delicate tracery that inexorably unfurled. The vixen’s whole body seized up, and with a shove, Isla achieved freefall.

Lapis stared with a mixture of wonderment and regret as a blue dragon beat wings that were whole and strong, gaining the sky with enviable grace. Until a scream of fury turned into a howl of pain, snapping his attention back where it belonged.

Isla was falling?

Isla was falling!

“Argent!” Lapis exclaimed, pulling himself up onto his knees.

The fox’s narrow muzzle was already pointed upward. Argent was calmly rising, making small adjustments as the young woman plunged their way. Clearly, he was leaving the rest to Lapis. Already, the dragon’s hands were moving, flinging sigils upward. Modified barriers to slow her descent, to call for willing winds, to assure her that he was ready.

Lapis was on his feet now, arms extended. His sigils had helped, but her arrival still drove him back to his knees. His heart was in his throat as he searched her face for any signs of pain or injury or fear.

But Isla laughed, and her arms slipped around his neck. “You’re brilliant.” As if everything had been his doing. Her eyes sparkled, and her smile was nothing but confident when she cheerfully added, “I’ve made up my mind to be very much in love.”