Lording Over

Argent was back. And so, to his softly thrumming satisfaction, was Jacques.

“Really, my lord. You have no right to look so pleased. I’ve had to order three new suits for you. With the worst over, do you think you take a step back from wanton destruction and resume kinder, gentler forms of dishevelment?”

“I really couldn’t say. Oh. Bother.” And lowering himself to the floor, he crooked his fingers toward the shadows under the chaise lounge. “What have you there, sweetheart?”

The little girl peeked out at them, then glanced back over her shoulder. With a peep, Patter appeared beside her.

“How in all the Widelands do you keep getting past my barriers?” Argent coaxed Patter into his arms and quietly remarked, “I am glad Churlish brought him. I have been curious ever since I heard about him from Hisoka.”

“His claws are snagging your silk,” Jacques chided mildly.

“Mmm.” He let the little one snuggle in, too charmed to care.

“Up you come, little miss.” And having secured their other interloper, Jacques said, “They’ve chosen her name, by the by. Bother has become Christobelle. They borrowed from Bon-Bon, who may not fully realize that the giving of a name is a solemn bond.”

Argent hadn’t had the chance to sound out Jacques on the matter of his elder brother. “Should we be asking him to stay?”

“I don’t really want him. But I also can’t begrudge him.” With a careful tone, Jacques admitted, “He’ll be good. Actually, he’ll probably be grand.”

“In the end, it’s Suuzu’s decision.”

Jacques acceded with a nod. Then lightly inquired, “What have we here? Oh, you are wonderful! I was looking for this just yesterday. Thank you, Christobelle. You’re a treasure.”

“What has she found?”

“A lost cufflink. One of mine. Since this set is the right hue, I thought … well, nevermind. It’s rather shabby now that I can appreciate that little extra something of living crystal. Though I suppose with gifts, it’s the thought that counts.”

“Last-minute Christmas shopping?”

“Yes and no. There’s this midwinter custom amongst the feline clans. A gift to match the color of a consort’s blaze. Sonnet wants to surprise Anjou, so I’ve been pawing through my assorted haberdashery and gee-gaws, trying to find something appropriately gorgeous.”

Argent eyed the cufflink. “What color is his blaze? Or … too personal?”

“Non.” He tilted it, showing off the inset glitter of peridot. “As it happens, Anjou was born with a blaze in a sprightly green. Which is perfect, since I am—as Nonny loves to say—going to do the outré thing and claim it for my clan’s color.”

“An appropriate choice.”

Jacques brightened, and the radiance of his mood suffused the entire room.

Patter peered around and chittered softly.

Christobelle lay her head against Jacques’ vest and petted his tie.

Argent supposed he should speak up. “I may be able to help. I have a few things set aside for … well, I imagined they would be for birthdays or anniversaries or milestones. They are rather fine, and they are the correct color. And they have always been meant for you. In a way, I already gave them.”

“I’m intrigued. Tell on!”

Pointing to a paneled section of the wall, Argent asked, “Can you see the sigil just there?”

Jacques followed his gaze and narrowed his eyes. “Lord, I don’t know. The whole room is reeling with foxy excesses.”

Argent stood, plopped Patter on the chaise lounge, and framed the pertinent sigil with his hands. “There’s another cupboard behind here.”

“Why would you hide a cupboard from me?” Jacques asked suspiciously. “I thought you gave over the whole of your closet.”

“Ah.” He supposed he was in for a scolding. There were several ‘missing’ garments stashed inside—spoiled or itchy or sequined. But mercifully, Jacques only had eyes for the items displayed on two shelves at eye level.

A fussy atomizer for scents and a hand mirror set with crystals. A shapely vase and a stoppered decanter. An exquisite bottle of expensive oil and a softly-whirring clock that was keeping perfect time despite being locked away since last summer.

“These are from the array!” Jacques exclaimed. “The crystals I smuggled into the tropics.”

“These pieces were models for the illusions I used on the array.”

His man picked up the vase, trailing light fingertips over its decorations. “Every one of these is a work of art.”

“Mmm. Take them. Do with them as you like.”

“What to do ….” Jacques touched each item, and his happiness became a giddying force. “May I take one for Sonnet, too?”

Argent gruffly reminded, “They are yours. I can give you access to the cupboard, should you wish to bring them out or bestow them at intervals.”

“Merci.”

But before Jacques could make his selections—or remark upon a particularly loathsome pair of shoes that both pinched and creaked—there was a rap.

Argent frowned. “That cannot be Nonny. He will be at the playhouse already.”

Jacques muttered, “Lord, this should be interesting.” And he went to swing the door wide.

Fend—in speaking form—stood in the hall, Gregor propped on his hip, the little female wind dragon draped around his shoulders. His gaze was almost a glare, full of challenge.

Recognizing the import of the combined sigilcraft the threesome represented, Argent cracked a smile. “So that is how you manage it.”

“Yes. There’s a gap in your defenses, and I thought you should know.”

“I cannot imagine that anyone else would be equipped to exploit it as you have.”

“No, but there may come another time when I am exploited.”

“Another?” echoed Jacques.

Fend adjusted his hold on Gregor, boosting the squirming boy higher. “Who do you think brought you your beloved Anjou?”

“Mon dieu, but of course! He shouldn’t have been able to reach my door. But with one thing and another … I suppose I was so glad to see him, I didn’t question his arrival.”

Argent snorted lightly.

Jacques offered an unapologetic shrug, then moved to steal Gregor. “He’s only trying to get to Patter.”

Indeed, the green-haired boy beckoned from the nest he’d built from a cashmere throw and two castoff tunics.

Fend nuzzled Gregor’s curls. “You are your daddy’s boy, hmm? Go on, then. Make a new friend while I claim my due.”

Argent pretended not to hear and immediately changed the subject. “Where did Bother get to?”

“Christobelle,” Jacques corrected distractedly. “Come, me boyo. Uncle Jackie shall be your ally. You must help me introduce young Master Patter to Etienne. He will be similarly charmed.”

Fend propped his hands on his hips, looking unamused.

“She’s in my new cupboard, exploring the castoffs somebody ferreted away.” Jacques blandly added, “She understands the appeal of sequins.”

Argent was vastly more interested in another point that had been glossed over. “You implied exploitation. Who told you to bring Anjou past barriers?”

“A star,” said Fend.

“Which star?” Argent pressed.

“Bethiel.”

That gave him pause.

Jacques startled him all over again by remarking, “Nice chap.”

Argent pivoted. “When did you meet Bethiel?”

“Mmm. Dichotomy Day, so three days ago.”

“And you failed to mention this … why?”

Jacques replied evenly. “Because not all news is mine to tell.”

It was a mild rebuff, but Argent let the matter go. For now.

Fend pushed forward. “Argent! You made me a promise.”

“So I did.” Rising to his full height, he added, “I am prepared to offer an apprenticeship.”

“Don’t change terms. Recognize my attainment!”

“I do. Jacques can bear witness. Or if you prefer, we can stand before your father and brothers and uncles …?”

“No need. If you say it, I’ll be satisfied.”

“Because you respect Argent,” interjected Jacques. “More than any other person at Stately House, his opinion holds value.”

Argent blinked.

Fend sniffed. “I have so few peers. Intellectually.”

Jacques said, “I agree with Fend. Apprenticeship implies a step down, not a step up. Far better to expand your cortege. You’re past due.”

Argent didn’t like to be cornered, but this was Jacques. So he didn’t refuse outright. “Past due?” he countered instead. “I only just added Anjou.”

“We are fortunate, indeed, to have so many capable felines at Stately House.” Jacques gazed at Fend, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he said, “Bring him on in an advisory capacity. Include him in all Council business. Make him your sounding board.”

Fend eyed them critically. “It’s the only sensible thing to do. Provided he trusts my judgment. And accepts criticism.”

“Trust for trust.” And in a warning tone, Jacques added, “Respect for respect.”

“I would appreciate that, yes.” And brazenly meeting Argent’s gaze, Fend announced, “I’ll lend you my full support. On one condition.”

More amused than anything, Argent said, “I am listening.”

In a posture that made it clear that Fend considered himself equal to anything, especially Argent, Fend said, “I’ll join if Sinder does.”

“You are a brazen one,” Argent drawled.

Jacques helpfully interpreted, “He likes you. You’re hired.”

The children were nestled, all snug in their beds. Or would be soon. Argent was waiting for Tsumiko to finish her evening rounds. No small feat, given all the excitement for tomorrow, which would be Christmas. He didn’t expect her for another hour, and then they’d join Michael, Sansa, and the rest in staging several surprises. Nonny and Sonnet had most everything else well in hand.

So Argent’s feet were propped before the fire. Indeed, he was in real danger of dozing off when a light rap sounded. He banished a sigil, and the door opened to reveal Anjou, who escorted Hisoka Twineshaft.

“I found him in the hallway,” explained Anjou. “He needs a word. We are not intruding?”

“Not at all.” Easing out of his slouch, Argent extended a hand. “Join me?”

With quiet efficiency, Anjou pushed Twineshaft inside, and retreated. When the door shut behind him, there was a gentle wash of wards to supplement Argent’s own. Really, Jacques’ new man was quite good. A welcome addition.

Argent waved to the seat opposite his, but Hisoka crossed to him instead. A pointedly deferential posture banished any sense that he was looming. However, he seemed at a loss how to begin. Argent’s gaze dropped to the cream-colored envelope in Hisoka’s hands, and he prompted, “Something for me?”

Hisoka looked vaguely embarrassed, but he proffered the thing. “I … yes. For you.”

Argent accepted it with a good deal of curiosity. The envelope bore no name, and it wasn’t sealed. Inside was a single sheet of paper. Superior quality. And Hisoka had stamped the bottom corner with his seal. So … something official.

He read.

He read it all again.

Hisoka tentatively said, “Dichotomy Day may have passed, but this is still the season for new ventures …?”

Argent raised his hand, forestalling further explanation. He read the lines a third time, thoughts racing. Finally, he said, “There is much to discuss, but before any of that … yes.”

The cat practically crumpled, dropping gracelessly to his knees and bowing his head until it touched Argent’s knee.

He gently rested a hand on Hisoka’s shoulder. “Did you think I would try to dissuade you?”

“I did. A little.”

“Then you do not know me as well as you ought. I suppose I am not the easiest person to know.” He mildly added, “To be fair, you are similarly enigmatic. But with this, perhaps we can do away with polite distances …?”

Hisoka lifted his face. “I am in your hands.”

“Oh, I doubt that is the case.” Argent contemplated the intricacy of the mark that now graced the cat’s brow and lightly asked, “What of Rhomiko?”

“My bondmate?” Hisoka ran a hand over his hair. “They intend to keep me.”

“Then you shall be well kept.”

“I realize this may cause trouble for the Amaranthine Council. But I cannot return.”

“Set your boundaries, and I will reinforce them.” Argent dared to caress pewter hair. “You can shape the future from here. Guide our children.”

“There will be those who’ll criticize ….”

“That is like saying there will be those who sneeze.” Argent firmly countered, “There will also be those whose trust cannot be shaken. Those who respect your priorities. Those who support your choices. And there will be me.”

Hisoka bowed his head again, so Argent brought out his full flourish. Draping his friend in silver fur, he said, “Welcome home, Hisoka-sensei.”

Tsumiko had been just the tiniest bit worried that Churlish’s arrival would cause problems in the kitchen, but Sonnet had welcomed the prickly moonbeam with the fondness of familiarity. Churlish was soon perched on the countertop, consuming a bowl of Sonnet’s gruel, humming over each bite.

“I grew up underfoot in the Moonglade Tea Room.” Sonnet’s tail did a happy shimmy. “Churlish taught me everything I know.”

Churlish tapped a silver spoon against his bottom lip. “After birthday cake, we should make more gingerbread. Paltry likes gingerbread. Everybody should like gingerbread.”

Tsumiko left them to their plans, strolling past the parlor where Catalan and Canarian had commandeered the piano. Most of the cast from the evening’s play were there, singing carols. She was pleased to see Uncle Boniface in their midst, pulled snug against Cat’s side as they harmonized.

In the front foyer, Jacques and Nonny had organized a stealthy brigade. Gifts that had been stashed who-knew-where were arriving under the tree. Josheb stood with Michael, their heads bent together over each tag as the young man made certain of his pronunciation. He’d be presiding over the morning’s distribution.

Andor had broached an enormous cask of star wine, and Anjou and Eiji roved through the room, topping off drinks. Harmonious Starmark’s laugh rumbled to the ceiling over something Rhomiko said, then he cuffed Hisoka’s shoulder. The dog clansman’s mood had brightened considerably with Sensei’s return from seclusion.

The front door swung wide, letting in a breath of fresh air and two latecomers to the festivities. Boon had apparently volunteered to cross international borders on their behalf, and before he had his companion fully unbundled, Uncle Jackie had Harrison Peck in a bear hug.

Usually, they only had the pleasure of Harrison’s company during summers. Tsumiko wondered who’d organized to have him brought. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was Argent.

As if summoned by her thought of him, he came striding her way. His tails were out and puffed, and his intent was clear, and people stepped out of his way. Nobody seemed overly concerned, and once he was close enough, Tsumiko could read his expression. Something unusually fine must have happened, because her bondmate was nearly aglow with a pleasure he rarely let others see.

Behind fanning tails he dipped down to press his lips to her answering smile. “Here you are.”

“Here I am,” she acknowledged.

“I could not have contrived it on my own,” he began. “Though I would have loved for you to see. We are most fortunate. I am honestly staggered. Jacques never let on, and how was I to guess? But I am glad for your sake.”

He’d pulled her arm through his and was guiding her out. She wondered what had excited him to such an extent, he was almost rambling. But then they were at the door to the Blue Parlor, and Opal was within, chatting with someone new. Tsumiko was certainly familiar by now with the characteristics of a star clansman. So Argent had wanted to introduce her to an imp?

The dragon bard was complimenting the star, who’d apparently used the Chrysanthemum Blaze to mollify Dima. Did that mean …?

Argent nuzzled her and murmured, “If anyone deserves an angelic encounter, it’s you.”

Opal stepped back without another word, a coy smile on his face.

“Oh,” she managed. “How do you do …?”

“Lady Mettlebright. Tsumiko. Please meet Bethiel,” Argent said with all the formality he’d once used as her butler. “He will be joining the Amaranthine Council.”