Bonhomie

Anjou was counting hearths. Stately House had more than its fair share, and it seemed an appropriate enough pastime for a hearthcat left to his own devices.

Oh, he could have volunteered himself for any number of odd jobs. His upbringing in a rural enclave meant he was used to reporting to the kitchen or the creamery or the laundry or the nursery. Anjou had let it be known that he was a tribute, but more than a week had passed, and nobody had found a use for him. Which left him in an awkward position. Young toms waited to be called.

Keeping busy might have helped to pass the time, but Anjou didn’t like to show a sad face. So even though he’d tell any who asked that he was counting hearths, Anjou was mostly searching for quiet corners. Someplace to work up the courage to be happy for his friend. Because he’d seen Eiji’s face—surprised and delighted and exquisitely happy.

After all they’d been through, Eiji deserved every happiness. Anjou wasn’t jealous, exactly. But neither had he been chosen.

His hopes had been up. He would have loved to be of use to Hisoka Twineshaft, even if only peripherally. But despite arriving at Stately House amidst the triumphal songs of dragons and having helped with a mass rescue, Anjou hadn’t once met the illustrious spokesperson, let alone been added to his cortege.

In the back of his mind, the lilt of his former mentor’s voice coached him to be patient. Await, await, await.

Someday, perhaps, a mistress would single him out, and he would devote himself to her. But his someday wasn’t this day, and he was beginning to fear that his someplace wasn’t here either. What if Lord Mettlebright suddenly recalled the stray cat within his boundaries and put Anjou out?

“You there. Lend me your hands.” One of Stately House’s feline Kith.

Care of and communication with Kith fell solidly within a tribute’s duties. Anjou adjusted his posture even as he turned, already asking, “How may I …?” But he left off, lunging to rescue the toddler dangling by the back of his pajamas from the black panther’s jaws.

This Kith was one of Minx’s many cubs, an adult male with his father’s eyes. Anjou sat on the floor, cradling the cheerful boy-child while he waited to see if there would be more orders.

“Anjou Bonhomie. Clan tribute. Prospective consort.”The Kith sprawled languidly beside him. “Mother passed you over in favor of your friend.”

“Eiji is a fine tom.”

“And you are a sorry one?”

“I’m alone.”

“No, you’re not. Do stop moping.”

But of course that’s when tears sprang to Anjou’s eyes.

The Kith scooted closer, rubbing their cheeks together, whisking away each drop as it fell. “Are all toms this eager to live at the whim of another?”

Anjou lowered his gaze. “Non.”

“Your friend surprised me.”The black panther rested his jaw upon Anjou’s thigh, his upturned gaze searching. “Kith-sire is an unusual aspiration for those not born to it. Are you sulking because Mother stole your other half?”

“I never aspired to anything. And I knew Eiji and I weren’t likely to be placed together.”

“He is a crystal adept.”

“Mm-hmm. We were thrown together, and we enjoyed each other. Neither of us expected much, but … I will miss him.”

“You’re being overly tragic, considering how near he’ll be. My father’s hearth is wide. Indeed, all of this enclave’s felines are generous.”

Anjou knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn’t help pining. Not for Eiji specifically. Just for something that could be his. He tried to change the subject. “This child …?”

“Mine to mind.”He sounded supremely bored, but he nuzzled the toddler until the boy giggled. “Gregor is son to Timur, who shares a pact with me.”

“The battler from the Order of Spomenka.”

“The very one, though he keeps his ties to dragonkind a secret.”

Anjou adjusted his posture, promising discretion. But he had to ask, “Why is it secret?”

“Who can say? Maybe they like a touch of mystery? It’s a solemn vow shared by all members, yet they traipse about with banners flying. Secrets should be better kept.”Tone shifting to something less sarcastic, he said, “Ah. She found us.”

To Anjou’s amazement, a serpentine creature rounded the corner, spied them, and broke into a series of pretty trills that were probably scolding. She glided to Gregor, who lifted his hands and lapsed into excited baby talk.

“Is she some variety of Ephemera?”

“No. I’m told she has a full set of wits as well as a voice. Wind dragons are being brought back from the edge of extinction. This one decided she belongs to Gregor.”Sounding smug, he added, “I lured her here. I’m making her our accomplice.”

Anjou wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

“She has a useful knack. Breezes right past barriers. And there are certain wards that allow me through if I’m carrying Gregor. We’ll be using these two to open a path for you.”

“For … me?” Anjou had assumed their meeting was coincidence. With the stirrings of hope, he ventured, “Did someone ask for me?”

“This is more sent than sent for.” The Kith looked away. “I agreed to lead you to the place you are most needed. Shall we?”

“But wait. I’m not clear. Who is sending me?”

The Kith’s tail flicked. “What if I said it was an angel?”

Anjou needed several moments to gather a response. “If so … if that is true … then I would be a fool not to listen.”

The Kith left Anjou stranded behind barriers formidable enough to curl his whiskers. If Lord Mettlebright caught him so near the heart of his den, banishment was the least of his worries. Even so, Anjou hurried deeper into danger. A familiar scent beckoned and lent him bravery, and when he reached the appointed door, Anjou gladly knocked.

A muffled answer came from within, and then the door opened. “Anjou? How did you find your way here? Is anything the matter?”

At a glance, Anjou could tell that Jacques Smythe had been crying. So he flung his arms around his neck and clung. “Am I still welcome at your hearth?”

“Lord, of course you are. Come inside.” Jacques drew him into a steadying embrace.

When the door shut behind them, Anjou shamelessly pleaded for comfort.

Perhaps Jacques needed comfort, too. Hadn’t he somehow, unthinkably lost Akira to another? Anjou pressed little kisses on Jacques, who petted his hair and whispered to him in French. He warmed to a new idea. Maybe this could become Anjou’s place?

“I can tell you’re in a melancholy mood,” said Jacques. “Where’s Eiji?”

“Busy elsewhere.” And because he felt safe confessing it here, Anjou added, “He’s found a place. He was chosen by a lady mistress.”

“Oh? I’d heard Pim Moonprowl was somewhere hereabouts. You mean her?”

“Non. Pim is a wolf of the packs. Eiji has moved in with Deece.”

“Minx? Well, that’s a twist.” He tucked Anjou under his chin and stroked his back. “I hadn’t realized Kith could accumulate consorts.”

“Most don’t. This Minx, she is ambitious.”

“Mmm. How does Eiji feel about being acquired?”

“He’s pleased. He’ll protect this place and these children.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m left wanting.” He dared to ask, “Did you truly yield Akira to another?”

“He was never mine.”

“You love him,” Anjou protested. “You wooed him so patiently. Only a little longer, a little more, and he would have given himself to you.”

“I ran out of time, and there’ll be no more chances.” Jacques admitted, “I knew from the beginning that I’d have to give him back. It’s for the best. Watch, and you’ll see for yourself. Suuzu adores him.”

“I could adore you.” As soon as it was out of his mouth, Anjou regretted opening himself up to fresh rejection. Still, he pressed, “You have no reason to rebuff me this time.”

“So hasty.” It was a chiding tone. Or perhaps a cautioning one. Either way, Jacques softened his words with a kiss. “We’re barely acquainted, you and I. And the person you promised yourself to at the resort was mostly pretense.”

“Non. You held my life in your hands.” Anjou meant it when he said, “I’d withhold nothing. I’d entrust everything.”

Jacques gave the low tail of Anjou’s hair a tug, urging him away in order to study his heating face. “What’s made you so desperate? You have all the time in the world. And … I’ve become something mysterious. Trepidation seems to be the order of the day.”

“Cats are curious.” Pressing closer again, sighing against Jacques’ throat, he whispered, “May I explore your new splendor?”

“A bit risky. Even his lordship keeps me at arm’s length.”

“Foxes embody caution. Felines are freer. Trust me?”

“I wouldn’t want to harm you,” Jacques murmured.

A token resistance. Anjou touched his tongue to warm skin and tasted victory. “You couldn’t harm me. Not you. But if it would ease your fears, touch here. I have fine crystals. They can become safeguards.”

Jacques’ fingers found the remnant stone in one of Anjou’s earrings. “Before I … just, before. There’s something you need to know. I came back from our adventure with a souvenir of sorts. Something unforeseen, yet also foretold. And exceedingly precious. I think it’s why Argent is being so circumspect. As tempting as your offer may be, I need to ensure that the things I carry are safe.”

Anjou took a longer look at Jacques and felt stupid. “You’re freshly warded. Show me your palms.”

The sigilcraft was as delicate as it was devious, and Anjou wondered if the fox responsible ever took apprentices. He smoothed over the artistry, all admiring, then pressed a kiss to each palm. Lifting his gaze to Jacques, he awaited an explanation.

“I’ve been sprigged. Are you familiar with the term?”

He gasped, for a tribute’s lessons included tales of lorefolk. A gentle quaver brushed against Anjou, setting his proverbial whiskers aquiver. Then Jacques was unbuttoning his vest, and Anjou’s heart leapt for eagerness. He reached for the knot of silk at his collar, helping him disrobe.

Jacques laughed softly. “Lord, you do know how to boost a chap’s ego.”

The man’s hands fell away, and Anjou took that for permission to proceed. So he was the one to uncover Jacques’ secret … and stood transfixed. A gem-green coil, like the tendril of a plant, curled snug against the skin surrounding Jacques’ navel.

“Every warning you’ve ever heard about Amaranthine trees is true,” said Jacques.

Anjou knew the lullabies of trees, but they were cradle songs to beguile children. To think that such lore sprang from a true seed. A golden one. He bent in order to sniff and nuzzle and kiss and croon.

Again, Jacques laughed, and this time it was warmer, and Anjou felt welcome.

“I will not harm your child.” He looked up and confessed, “I want to be part of this, to ready your hearth for this kitten. Give me a place, and I would give any vow.”

“Don’t be so reckless with your vows.” Jacques quietly added, “Thank you, Anjou. For accepting this. I’m still getting used to the idea.”

“You’re afraid?”

“Does it show? Yes, a little. And perhaps a little more as things progress.” He gruffly admitted, “I’m good with babies, but I’m less confident about carrying one.”

“You will be perfection!” Anjou promised. “I will see to every little thing.”

“Are you offering to be my consort? I’m not a lady, you know.”

“But males who share a hearth share everything. I want a share in this.” Eager to prove himself, he peered around the room. “I can unpack your trunk. And oversee your sleep. Are you hungry? I could bring a tray. Or even cook for you. I’m sure the wolf in the kitchen would allow it if I explained.”

If the previous emotion Anjou had sensed from Jacques had been a tremor, this was a quake.

Jacques asked, “There’s a wolf? In the kitchen.”

“Yes. She is unusual. She intrigues me.”

“Sable fur? Eyes like whiskey? No doubt apron-clad and foisting bowls of gruel on orphans?”

Anjou was astonished. “What is this? Non, I know what this is! You are radiant, and it is beautiful.” He rubbed their cheeks together and wondered aloud. “Is this why I was sent? To unlock a star? Oh, I am jealous. Who is this wolf, my rival for your heart?”

Jacques looked almost frightened when he whispered, “Sonnet.”