Tamiko and the Two Janitors (Amaranthine Saga Book 3)

by Forthright

  Other things were still closely guarded.

  For instance, Aunt Hiro didn’t yet know that her future son-in-law was a crosser. Nor had she and Uncle Abel been told that their daughter would have a tree’s years.

  But the biggest secret was still Biddie. Kip and Joe were keeping the girl entertained—and hidden—high in her branches. None of the Amaranthine coming and going from the circle realized the significance of the tree at its center.

  Barriers within barriers.

  Secrets within secrets.

  Melissa now realized that not every reaver knew everything there was to know about the Amaranthine. And enclaves didn’t share all they knew with outside clans. There were probably as many private matters as there were persons. Things only shared in confidence.

  Like Doon-wen’s bondmate being Kith. Or the clandestine arrangement that had brought Jiminy to Bellwether. And the surprising truth to Amaranthine lore—or some of it, at least.

  “Congratulations,” murmured Remill. “If you need a friend to free your hands so you may sing, I would be honored.”

  Ash shook his head. “I don’t have much of a singing voice.”

  “Joy expresses itself in many ways.” The herald dipped into his bag and came out with a small box. “For you, Son of Sunfletch.”

  He hesitated, confused. “I thought you were here for Melissa.”

  “As it happens, my duties bring me to you both, each in your turn.” Remill stepped so close to Ash, their cheeks brushed when he whispered something in his ear.

  Ash nodded.

  Remill pressed the box into his hand.

  With great care, Ash touched the catch and lifted the lid.

  The look he sent Tami made Melissa feel like an intruder, for his eyes were bright with unshed tears. She eased back a few steps, averting her eyes. But she couldn’t escape the scene entirely.

  “Is it right?” Tami asked.

  Ash cleared his throat and muttered something.

  Aunt Hiro laughed lightly.

  Melissa couldn’t resist a glance. Ash had pulled Tami into his arms and stood there, holding her. Like they belonged together. Like they belonged to each other. It was an absolute marvel, given everything that had happened, that these two managed to make falling in love look simple.

  “Ah, love,” sighed Remill.

  Melissa startled, not having realized that the herald had remained with her.

  “A favored suitor wears his lady’s ornament.” His tone dropped conspiratorially. “Signifying her wish to court as she is courted. In the avian tradition.”

  She saw Tami slip a ring onto Ash’s finger. “Rings are an avian tradition?”

  “Any gift may do, if its message is clear.” Remill cooed quietly, all approval for the couple’s kiss. “Hers is clarion.”

  Since the herald seemed eager to share, Melissa asked, “What does it mean for him?”

  Remill’s hands fluttered. “When a male courts alone, it is in the hope of a return of feeling. When two souls reach an understanding, gifts are exchanged rather than given. Everything can be shared, for their future is one.”

  Melissa compared this to one of the only other courtship traditions she knew. “Kimiko Miyabe is claiming Eloquence with kisses.”

  “Ah, wolves,” sighed Remill. “What they lack in public display, they make up for in private affections. Are you interested in lovers’ games, Daughter of Nightspangle?”

  “How did you know?”

  “A guess, since fully half of your stolen glances have a yearning quality.”

  Melissa took a moment to realize what he meant. “No! How did you know I’m considered a Nightspangle?”

  “Because, Miss Melissa Armstrong.” Remill withdrew a heavy packet from his messenger bag and offered it with both hands. “That is how you have been addressed.”

  She recognized the heavy paper, the gleaming seal. It was as subtle as a slap, and pain bloomed with its delivery.

  How much money had she paid to remove her name from the general registries? Yet someone had caught wind of her. Some stranger was applying for her. And from who knew where? The sender’s name was stamped in red ink, with foreign characters that suggested Asian origins.

  Melissa turned to ask Remill where the packet had come from, but he’d vanished.

  Uttering an oath, she considered shredding the thing unopened. Although it might be more satisfying to sic Doon-wen on the man audacious enough to apply for his daughter, sight unseen. With that pleasant prospect in mind, she strode to her aunt’s side. “Could you look at something for me? Is this kanji?”

  “Yes. It’s a name.” Aunt Hiro touched the intricate characters. “Is there another place that gives the hiragana? That would tell us how the name should be read.”

  Melissa broke the packet’s plain seal and extracted the cover letter.

  “Here.” Her aunt pointed to another string of characters. “The full name means ‘cricket moon,’ but it has been simplified to Kourogi.”

  Recognition dawned. “His name is cricket?”

  “Yes. Kourogi is cricket.” Aunt Hiro nodded approvingly. “Not uncommon. Very cute.”

  Cricket. As in Jiminy.

  FORTY-TWO

  We Interrupt this Broadcast

  Melissa didn’t remember most of her walk back to the house. Only that she had kept herself calm, smiled at the right moments, and avoided any further greetings. This was not the time for prying eyes and sharp noses. She wanted no audience when she read the contents of this packet.

  In truth, it was not her first offer. They’d been arriving since she was twelve, mostly blind applications based entirely on her pedigree and ranking. But it was the first time she was interested in what the sender might have to say.

  She’d been avoiding Jiminy since his little experiment. Since she’d let him past her wards. Since he’d called her beautiful.

  Avoiding someone wasn’t hard when they were never around.

  Jiminy’s shifts ceased to overlap hers, and Melissa suspected Doon-wen’s interference. All week, one of them was at the coffee shop while the other was at the farm. He had wards to construct and lessons with his mentor. She had boundaries to patrol and Amaranthine to escort. And three littermates to adore.

  On her afternoons in town, she had Lace, Gate, and High all to herself. It was more than she’d ever dreamed of. All she’d ever wanted. Instead of being one reaver among sixteen others, all hoping for a partner, she was one reaver with three cubs all vying for her attention.

  But even more than that, she had True.

  Once the cubs were a little older, Doon-wen would establish a secondary den at the farm. They would run together, and he had relayed True’s insistence that Melissa run with them—astride True.

  She made it to her room and slouched to the floor in the most defensible corner. Safely away from prying eyes, Melissa slid a fat sheaf of papers from the packet.

  The cover letter was hand-written, the wording excessively formal. She was being approached in an official capacity by the wolves of the Nightspangle pack, founding members of the Bellwether Enclave, situated for two score and four decades in the human city known as Fletching. Lookha-soh and Roonta-kiv Nightspangle offered greetings and good wishes before expressing their desire to put forward their fostered son Kourogi, whose name was sung as “cricket moon,” presenting him as a potential bondmate in the Amaranthine tradition or, should she prefer a more human assignation, as a husband.

  Melissa recognized the standard language of a reaver contract. Jiminy’s parents had correctly included all the usual documentation—pedigree, hereditary traits, academic standing, and progeny projections. But there were hand-written addendums.

  One bore the seal of Doon-wen Nightspangle, documenting Jiminy’s unique status as a wolf of his pack. Another also included the signatures of Cyril Sunfletch and Linden Woodacre, making it clear that Jiminy was Bellwether’s anchor. Contractually, the urban enclave would remain his home for as long as he live
d.

  Nothing new. He’d told her as much.

  Next came documentation of Jiminy’s rank, which had been suppressed in order to protect Jiminy’s interests. Although officially a wolf, he’d been privately assessed and personally granted an unofficial ranking by Glint Starmark, whose copper seal gleamed upon the page. Reaver Kourogi Foster Nightspangle ranked twenty-ninth on the worldwide registry and, based on his youth and vigor, was expected to rise over the course of his lifetime.

  Double digits. That was … unexpected.

  Melissa gently set that paper aside.

  On the next page, Jiminy’s mentor had included a note, certifying that his apprentice currently ranked fourth among reavers with a ward classification. Melissa groaned. She hadn’t realized that First-sensei was Jiminy’s nickname for Michael Ward of Stately House, world-renowned First of Wards. It was that man’s opinion that Kourogi would likely be acknowledged as First of Wards one day.

  Someone tapped on her door. “Melissa, it’s me. Is everything all right?”

  “No,” she said dully.

  “May I come in?”

  Melissa crawled to the door and turned the key to let in Tami.

  Her cousin took in the array of documents and perched on the end of the bed. “Is this what the herald brought?”

  Waving a hand, Melissa stiffly said, “Behold, the romance of reaver courtship.”

  Tami slid to the floor, already reaching. “May I?”

  Melissa gave Tami the short version, but her questions led to a much longer version. By the end, they’d gone through every page in Jiminy’s offer twice, and Tami’s understanding increased alongside her incredulity.

  “You make babies with the highest bidder?”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.” She sighed and shook her head. “I know reaver couples who are together because they love each other. They had the good fortune to meet at academy or during one of the skill camps. But this is more or less standard.”

  Tami had questions about contracts, stables, and academies. Melissa could tell her cousin was having a hard time with reaver practicalities, but Tami wasn’t passing judgment. Only trying to understand a system that existed to protect and proliferate rare bloodline traits.

  Nodding thoughtfully, Tami reached for the page with Glint Starmark’s seal. “And what do you think of Jiminy’s offer?”

  “His pedigree is beyond impressive.” Melissa frowned. “Nobody in their right mind would turn down an applicant of his rank.”

  “Excellent numbers, excellent references,” agreed Tami. “Is it rude of me to ask about your numbers? Are yours … lower?”

  Melissa rolled her eyes. “Ninety-nine percent of the global reaver community is lower.”

  Tami smiled. “Granted.”

  “I rank.” It was nice to confide in someone. “My biological father is one of the top ten battlers in the States, and at graduation, I placed high—triple digits.”

  “That’s good?”

  “Exceptional.”

  “So on paper, you’re great together.” Tami’s brows knit. “Does he know that?”

  Melissa’s heart clenched, and her shoulders sagged. “Probably. Doon-wen has my assessment folio. And they’ve been matchmaking from the beginning.”

  “But you don’t like Jiminy?”

  “He’s … Jiminy.”

  Tami laughed. “Okay, but how has he responded to all the matchmaking? Is he being pressured into applying for you?”

  Melissa slowly shook her head. “That goes against wolf nature.”

  “So his adoptive parents wouldn’t have sent you this without his knowledge.” She shuffled through the stack of papers, selecting one near the bottom. “But what about this? It almost sounds like they’re trying to operate outside the system. If you and your children belong to the wolves, aren’t they actually setting up a private breeding program?”

  The document in question was unusual in the extreme.

  Written in Jiminy’s own hand, he let it be known that any children born to his den would belong to the Nightspangle pack, and that their upbringing and education would proceed according to wolvish tradition. Melissa wasn’t surprised. Jiminy wouldn’t want to send any of his children away. As he had been.

  She admired his foresight, his resolve, his protectiveness. “Belonging to a pack isn’t confinement or enslavement. It’s family.”

  Tami’s expression softened. “That part, at least, appeals to you.”

  Melissa hummed a cautious affirmative.

  “So what’s holding you back?”

  “This.” Melissa waved at the offending stack. “Everything is so awkward. It’ll seem like I changed my mind once I learned Jiminy’s rank.”

  Tami’s eyes took on a shine. “Mom was right. You’re in love.”

  “Reavers don’t marry for love.”

  “According to the paperwork, he’s not a reaver.” Tami raised a hand, interrupting herself. “Which begs the question, why is he resorting to reaver courtship? Wolf traditions have to be more romantic.”

  Melissa smiled wanly. What a time for Jiminy to decide to respect her boundaries.

  Halfway through dinner, Tami realized something that might be important. The same rules and regulations that Melissa had explained earlier might technically apply to her, as well. Her cousin had been fined for putting off her duty to the In-between. Once Tami’s status was confirmed, would they expect recompense? That hardly seemed reasonable.

  But what if Joe’s concerns bore fruit? What if the Office of Ingress wanted her to do her part and contribute to future generations of reavers? And what if they didn’t want her genetic material mingling with a crosser’s?

  Questions, possibilities, consequences, and countermeasures whirled through her mind. She was already drafting an agenda to spring on Cyril when Grandad lunged for the remote and unmuted the television, which was tuned in to his usual dinnertime gameshow.

  “ … interrupt this broadcast for a special announcement,” intoned an announcer. “Again, we interrupt this broadcast for a special announcement.”

  A few seconds passed, and the cameras switched to a familiar panel of newscasters. The banner on the screen held the logo for the Miyabe-Starmark courtship.

  “Thought so,” muttered Grandad. “They’ve been dragging their feet over setting a date.”

  “Exciting news from Keishi, Japan, where Spokesperson Hisoka Twineshaft and Spokesperson Suuzu Farroost have called a press conference. Odds are, this is the long-anticipated announcement of the next kiss, isn’t that right?”

  “Undoubtedly,” agreed the second newscaster, folding her hands over her notes. “Speculations have been all over the calendar, with suggested dates ranging from American Thanksgiving to the upcoming Sixth Anniversary of the Emergence. Reaver Hinman, can you give us some idea of what dates might be considered auspicious from the Rivven perspective?”

  “There are several annual festivals observed by the Amaranthine, the most prominent of which is certainly Dichotomy Day, which is marked twice a year—during the winter solstice and the summer solstice. The word dichotomy comes from the Greek and literally means ‘split in two,’ which applies neatly since it is both the shortest and longest day of the year, depending on your locale.”

  The first newscaster nodded in an interested way. “Do Kimiko’s previous choices give us any hints? Let’s bring up the graphic.”

  His partner chimed in. “The most recent was Kimiko’s seventh kiss, which coincided with the announcement of two new positions on the Amaranthine Council, expanding their number to seven.”

  “While that’s true,” interjected Reaver Hinman, “Kimiko said that the day was chosen to mark a much more personal milestone. She wanted to celebrate becoming an aunt for the first time.”

  A photograph filled the screen, showing Eloquence holding a bundle while Kimiko cooed over her older sister’s first child.

  The woman conceded, “Kimiko may have her own reasons for choosing the
dates and times, but the Five—now the Seven—are certainly making the most of these events.”

  “Pardon me,” interrupted the first newscaster. “But we have word that Spokesperson Twineshaft is ready to begin. Let’s take you live to Keishi.”

  Once again, the cameras cut to a different location. Tami immediately recognized the twin dragon statues at the foot of the stairs to Kikusawa Shrine, the setting for all the pageantry of the Miyabe-Starmark courtship.

  Hisoka Twineshaft stood before a small lectern, which bristled with microphones. He wore an understated gray suit, and he was smiling at someone off to one side. The camera panned, revealing the presence of Harmonious Starmark, Tenna Silverprong, and Suuzu Farroost. Not the full rank of council members, but a decent show of support.

  Everyone was relaxed and smiling, as if standing before the world was no big deal.

  Tami found herself leaning forward as Hisoka Twineshaft lifted his hands, calling for quiet.

  A few last flashbulbs popped, and the Spokesperson addressed himself to the camera. “Greetings, one and all. I’m pleased to address you today in my role as Eloquence Starmark’s go-between.”

  “Those eyes, though,” murmured Mom.

  Grandad snorted. He was more a fan of the famed Starmark copper. Tami had to wonder if he’d ever met any Starmarks while he was a boy in Wardenclave.

  Poised and personable, Hisoka went on in measured tones. “I know you are all eager for Kimiko Miyabe’s courtship to progress. I can assure you that Eloquence, who may rightly claim an even greater share of anticipation, awaits his suitor’s call. Suuzu?”

  With a gracious nod, Suuzu Farroost, spokesperson for the phoenix clans and avian representative, stepped forward to speak. “Welcome and peace. It is my pleasure to serve as Kimiko Miyabe’s go-between. Her pursuit of Eloquence Starmark continues. She will claim another kiss from her intended.”

  Shouts, whistles, and applause resounded. The couple was clearly as popular in Kimiko’s hometown as they were around the world. Tami was amused to see that Harmonious Starmark, Kimiko’s future father-in-law, contributed a piercing wolf whistle.