Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal

by Forthright

  “Their betrothal wasn’t an accident.”

  He smiled crookedly. “Everyone has seen the televised special detailing the two great loves of Harmonious Starmark.”

  “Well, yes,” she conceded. “But there’s usually a big difference between reality and publicity.”

  “There is more to the story than the people of this city remember. But theirs is not my story to tell.” He lined up his words with great delicacy. “I can welcome your interest in me. If you have questions, ask them. If you want something, take it. Like tending with a trusted reaver, my answer will always be yes.”

  His tone and posture didn’t match. He meant more than he was saying. And she thought she understood. “Are you asking me to ask for things?”

  “Please.”

  “What do you need?” Kimiko signaled that she was listening, that she was willing. “What do you want?”

  Eloquence elbowed Edge.

  Apparently the Kith’s suggestions were unwanted. In a way, it was too bad she couldn’t hear Edge or Flay. Then she wouldn’t be left guessing. All she could do was wait for Eloquence to find words … or the courage to speak them.

  He leaned down, once again resting his forehead against hers. Eyes firmly shut, he mumbled, “I do want a taste.”

  So she pressed her lips against his. Initiation accomplished.

  Which seemed to be enough to fulfill the courting requirement, because Eloquence took charge, cupping Kimiko’s cheek and slipping the tip of his tongue into her mouth. She parted her lips. He pressed soft kisses along her bottom lip, followed by a cautious swipe. Then a nibble and lick. She gasped for air, and he retreated.

  “This is promising. And pleasant.” He radiated excitement. “When the time comes, I know what to do.”

  She was not going to ask what he meant.

  Eloquence nuzzled her hair and murmured, “Your blood is stirring as well. That’s good.”

  Kimiko was pretty sure she nodded. And she was almost sure he was going to kiss her again, except he didn’t.

  Instead he asked, “Kimiko, have you told your parents?”

  “N-no.”

  The restraint was back. “Dalliance without commitment would be an insult.”

  “I’m sorry.” Yesterday had been so hectic, but that was a lame excuse. In truth, she hadn’t known how to broach the subject. “I meant no insult.”

  “I would no more trifle with you than you would with me.” Eloquence kissed her forehead. “We have my father’s approval. Your father should have the opportunity to approve or oppose a match of this nature.”

  Kimiko suggested, “Come home with me? We can explain together.”

  “Gladly. Would tomorrow be acceptable?”

  They quickly settled the details, and Kimiko made to leave. But Eloquence didn’t release her. He didn’t say anything, didn’t start anything. But the silence begged her to ask for something, to start again.

  She asked, “Was a taste all you needed to decide we’re compatible?”

  Eloquence grew suddenly solemn. “That is the sort of question males quail before, for any answer risks his lady’s displeasure.”

  “It’s not a trap.” Kimiko decided to be blunt. “I’m not sure I care enough yet to take your answer personally.”

  He blinked.

  She waited.

  And he spoke. “I trust myself, and I have judged you to be trustworthy. Where trust abides, loyalty grows. And loyalty breeds affection, which dogs freely express.” Eloquence waited for her nod before continuing. “In this, you are not alone. My parents, my brothers, my Kith, even Tenma and Isla have my trust, my loyalty, my affection.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Very good.” Again, he touched her face. His hand was warm, as was his gaze. “But I do not coax them into corners or linger over their lips in the manner of lovers. Nor could they ever cause my heart to race or my blood to rise. Because with one taste, you claimed such things as your due and yours alone. So yes, one taste was all I needed.”

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Rally Around

  Akira was actually pretty good with girls. Well, not in any sort of romantic sense. But brotherly experience made it obvious that Kimi needed the kind of support family could provide. Or maybe a couple of nestmates. “Talk to us, Kimi.”

  “I will.” Her nose was buried in her scarf, and her gaze never lifted from the sidewalk. “I need to, but not here.”

  He’d have liked to pester, but Suuzu slid his arm around her shoulders and quietly said, “If you wish to register a complaint against Eloquence Starmark, I would willingly support and substantiate your claims.”

  Kimiko stopped and swayed. “Wh-what?”

  “What’s Quen done?” Akira demanded. He knew Suuzu was picking up on things he couldn’t, like scents and maybe even the state of Kimi’s soul. He could only guess at her mood and wait for her to confide in him. Plus, Suuzu’s offer didn’t make much sense. “I don’t get it. Quen’s a good guy.”

  Suuzu grabbed both their arms and hustled then around a corner. Pressing them against the dingy bricks in a cramped alleyway, he crowded close and murmured, “If there is a problem, tell me now, while enough scent lingers to satisfy the trackers.”

  Akira gawked at his best friend and repeated, “Quen’s a good guy.”

  He tipped his head to one side, then the other. “Kimiko is distressed, and Eloquence is undoubtedly the cause.”

  “Kimi?” Akira grabbed her hand. “What’s he talking about?”

  She looked close to tears, but not sad tears or even angry ones. Akira’s sister wasn’t the weepy sort, so the only ones she’d shown him had always been tied to really strong, tangled-up emotions. And confusion. Not knowing what to do could be really scary for someone as confident as Kimiko always seemed to be.

  “He is a good guy,” she said firmly. “He was very … gentle.”

  Akira was jumping to every kind of conclusion now, some wilder than others, and he really, really hoped they were off base. “Gentle, how?”

  Kimi finally met his gaze then, and a laugh bubbled up—sad and silly. Then she shocked the socks off him by kissing his forehead. “Stop imagining the worst. And I promise to tell you everything, but not in the street.”

  Rubbing at his forehead, Akira mumbled, “You’re worrying me. Seriously.”

  “And you’re cheering me up.” She hesitated. “Can you stay over again? Or would Sentinel have kittens?”

  Suuzu hooked his arm through Kimi’s, guiding her back onto the sidewalk. “We will stay.”

  Akira took her other arm. “Gonna stash us in that secret library again?”

  “No, so gather your courage. I think it’s time to introduce you to my family.”

  “Best manners,” Akira promised.

  Kimiko laughed again, sounding just as unhappy. “Wish I could guarantee the same courtesy. Just … I’m sorry in advance.”

  Akira finally put his finger on it. He’d walked into a sitcom.

  The members of the Miyabe household were naturals—quirky, complicated, and likeable—delivering a whirlwind of well-rehearsed drama. They each owned their role. Doting father. Chatterbox mother. Kimi’s older sister was all sweetness and soft smiles, and her younger sister was a cool beauty with a calculating gaze. The grandmother had all but demanded documentation of their respective pedigrees.

  “Puny stock,” she muttered. “What are your parents’ classifications?”

  Kimi jumped to his defense. “I’m the reaver in our group, Grandma. Akira’s only human.”

  The old woman narrowed her eyes. “Their line of work, then. How have they distinguished themselves?”

  “I’m an orphan, ma’am.” Akira smiled apologetically. “I don’t really remember my parents.”

  “How did you get into such a prestigious school?” The woman seemed suspicious. “Academic excellence?”

  “My grades are pretty average.” Below average, if he was totally honest.

  “I’m gla
d Akira was accepted,” Kimi said, her voice slow and calm. “He and Suuzu have been wonderful partners.”

  “Better to pair you off with a nice reaver boy,” grumbled the lady.

  Kimi remained patient, but not apologetic. “That would defeat the purpose of integration, Grandma. Triads have one of each, and I’m the reaver.”

  At this point, Kimiko’s mother saw an opening and seized control. “I’m sure we’re honored! Aren’t we?” A glance in her husband’s direction seemed to confirm her suspicion, and her smile widened. Turning to Suuzu, she asked, “And what sort of creature might you be?”

  “He’s not a creature, Mama. Suuzu is a person.”

  “I never said he wasn’t! But you’re an animal-person, aren’t you, dear?”

  Kimiko’s mom was all smiles as she blundered along, apparently ignorant of the oft-repeated guidelines of etiquette and courtesy toward Amaranthine citizens. Akira would have jumped in, but she didn’t let anyone get a word in edgewise.

  “You look exotic. Are you something exotic? A zebra, perhaps?”

  Suuzu showed no sign of offense as he corrected her. Akira had always admired his patience when it came to some of the weirder questions people would ask. And now that he knew what to look for, he could see that all three of the Miyabe girls were fidgeting with purpose, probably apologizing to Suuzu even as they worked to interrupt and distract their mother.

  Akira found himself liking the lady, if only because of the soft way Kimi’s father had of looking at her. The rest of the family might worry about what she’d say next, but this guy was listening to her. And that mattered to Akira. It fit with the way he thought things should be.

  Maybe that’s why he wanted lessons in the signs and signals Kimi used. He hadn’t realized he was missing out on part of a conversation.

  “Hajime-kun?”

  “Yes, sir?” Akira replied. Kimi looked a whole lot like her dad, who seemed a little old-fashioned, but that was probably because of his traditional clothes. He gave off a patient and wise vibe. Unfortunately, he was also pretty sharp.

  “Are you perhaps kin to a certain unregistered bloodline recently recognized as producing potent reavers?”

  Kimiko winced.

  They’d all hoped no one would make the connection.

  Maybe he wouldn’t make a fuss. Akira said, “Yep.”

  “What?” demanded Mrs. Miyabe. “What can you mean, dear? I thought he was human.”

  “As human as you and I,” he said fondly. “What I mean to say is that this young man’s sister is Lady Mettlebright.”

  Kimi’s mother might not know the ins and outs of Amaranthine etiquette, but she’d read the gossip columns. And Akira’s brother-in-law was big news.

  Her hands flew to her mouth. “You are a reaver!”

  “I’m not. My sister is.”

  And he was surrounded, and everyone was talking at once. Akira was sort of relieved when Suuzu—very politely—extricated him from the excitable group.

  Kimi had warned them, and she was pretty close on how everything would shake down. Except for the part about her mom and the contract. Her grandma was the one waving paperwork under his nose. And he was almost positive it was the younger sister who pressed a pen into his hand.

  Akira dropped onto Kimiko’s bed and stared at the ceiling. “That was intense.”

  She groaned. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” There were more important things to consider. Like Suuzu, who stood staring out the window, stiff and straight. Akira asked, “Okay if we let in some air?”

  “Please.” She hurried to Suuzu’s side and quietly urged, “Make yourselves comfortable.”

  He flicked the latch, slid the glass panel aside, and breathed deeply. Akira sat up and ruffled his hair. “Not that I’m complaining or anything, because it makes things a lot easier for us, but … wouldn’t a mother normally discourage her daughter from spending the night with a couple of guys?”

  “She’s not a very clever schemer. I’m trying not to be insulted by her mercenary streak.” Kimi’s hands fluttered through a cycle of frustration and apology.

  “Reavers are a little strange. No offense.”

  Suuzu murmured, “Her plan is ill-wrought. Even if an effort were made, Kimiko could not conceive.”

  She burst out laughing, and Akira covered his face with his hands. “Too much information.”

  Crossing to his side, Suuzu sat and began fiddling with Akira’s hair. The calming effect was both immediate and mutual. Akira beckoned insistently until Kimi came to sit on the floor in front of them so Suuzu could reach her hair, too.

  Long minutes passed, and the mood mellowed. And into the safe haven they’d created for themselves, Suuzu brought his first question. “Are you ready to confide in us?”

  TWENTY-SIX

  Long into the Night

  She probably should have been more organized, explaining things from the beginning, but Kimiko skipped to the matter weighing most urgently on her mind. “Suuzu, do you know anything about courtship?”

  “A little.” He searched her face, as if divining her reason for asking. “Enough to understand that each clan upholds its own traditions.”

  “What do phoenixes do?” She was only putting off the inevitable, but she really needed to work her way up to this particular secret.

  “Hmm.” Suuzu left off preening, his hands resting lightly on their heads. “In the old tradition, phoenixes make their hopes known through the singing of songs, the bringing of gifts, and the building of a nest.”

  “And how do you choose a nestmate?” Kimiko pressed. “I mean, do you just pick someone on impulse and hope it works out? Or do you flirt a little because you already like them and you want them to like you back?”

  “Reasons would vary.” Suuzu went back to stroking her hair. “What is it you really want to know?”

  “You wouldn’t trust to chance, would you?”

  “I wonder.” A faraway look entered his eyes, and there was a thoughtful mellowness to his voice. “A whole life can turn on the whim of a moment. And for all our years, even an Amaranthine cannot guess where the next moment might take him.”

  Kimiko nodded, then shook her head. Did it matter why she was betrothed? Or should she be focusing on fulfilling her responsibility to Eloquence? They were past explanations, yet she’d need a good one for her parents. Tomorrow.

  Suuzu continued in soft tones. “I did not know Akira until the moment we met. I tremble to think what would be lost if that moment had slipped away.”

  Akira had been watching her with a solemn expression, but his gaze swung to Suuzu—dumbstruck, distressed.

  With a trill that was more vibration than music, Suuzu pulled them all to seats on the floor, arranging everyone into close comfort. One under each wing, figuratively speaking. Leaning against the bed’s side, Suuzu encouraged Akira to lay his head against his shoulder. Kimiko was similarly tucked, and snug quarters and hushed tones made it easier to believe her secrets would be safe.

  Akira blurted, “Is Quen in love with you?”

  “I don’t think that’s the right word,” said Kimiko. “But he’s relying on me to keep an accidental promise.”

  “What did you promise?” Suuzu prompted.

  “To court him.”

  Eyebrows on the rise, Akira said, “I’m confused.”

  Kimiko’s smile felt weak and wobbly. “That makes two of us. I’m still reeling.”

  Suuzu touched her chin and lifted her face, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Tell us what happened. All of it. Then I will know how to help you.”

  Akira nodded. “Tell us, Kimi.”

  So she picked a spot closer to the beginning and did her best to offer an orderly account. Akira only listened, eyes wide and eyebrows jumping, but Suuzu stopped her from time to time, asking for exact wording and nuances of body language.

  “But why does it have to be you?” Akira asked. “Nothing against you—Quen’s all kin
ds of lucky it is you—but why’s he so set on your following through with this?”

  “He mentioned something about his role in the pack. Due to certain circumstances he wouldn’t normally choose a bondmate.”

  Suuzu’s sudden whistle was the dawning of comprehension. “He is the Starmark tribute.”

  “Yes, that’s the word he used.”

  “No wonder.” Suuzu smiled softly. “If it seems right, you have my permission to tell your betrothed that I am a tribute of the Farroost clan.”

  “You, too?” Kimiko hardly believed her good fortune. “I’d never even heard of this custom, but it really is a thing?”

  “A private matter, certainly.” Suuzu frowned a little. “One shared in great trust.”

  Kimiko quickly signaled her intention to keep Suuzu’s secret. “He knows I’m confiding in you.”

  Akira’s face was oddly blank. When he realized she was looking at him, he dredged up a small smile. “Quen must be really glad. Aren’t you glad for yourself?”

  Was she? Again, the thing weighing most on her mind came tumbling out. “I told him I didn’t care about him yet. This matters more than anything to him, and I should have considered his feelings, but … that’s what I told him. That I don’t care.”

  “Yet,” Suuzu echoed. “He will be counting on that yet.”

  “Isn’t that what courting’s for? Giving you guys time to figure stuff out?” asked Akira. “Don’t you think you could sorta eventually get attached?”

  She quietly admitted, “Reavers of my rank don’t marry for love.”

  Akira looked ready to argue. But then a different expression overtook his face. “How’s your mom gonna react when she finds out. Quen’s a good guy, but he’s got even less potential than me, assuming the goal is shiny reaver babies.”

  Kimiko giggled, then hid her face against Suuzu’s shoulder when the laughter threatened to turn to tears. Instead of improving the Miyabe bloodline, she was going to muddle it completely. Would her grandmother see this as a betrayal? Or would the Starmark prestige and pedigree make up for producing children of mixed heritage?