Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal

by Forthright

  He was saying, “… to the boys and me. There’s no need for you to ….”

  “Is it that dragon?” Anna asked sharply.

  “Not specifically, my love.” Harmonious offered a slow, reluctant nod. “But he is of the same bloodline.”

  Her lips thinned and she moved past Kimiko to stand before Mr. Miyabe, who still sat with Ever on his lap. She said, “If you would be so kind as to watch over my son while I take care of an unfortunate matter, I would be grateful.”

  “Anna,” groaned Harmonious.

  “I am a Starmark. I will protect my pack and the city we call home.”

  “As is your right,” he reluctantly acknowledged.

  Spinning to face Kimiko, Anna asked, “May I enter your treasury?”

  It was really more of a command than a request, but it baffled Kimiko. The question must have shown on her face, for Anna Starmark wasted no time in answering.

  “I must reclaim my sword.”

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Pocket Enclave

  Tenma attempted a protest. “I can walk.”

  “You cannot.” Lapis addressed the three Nightspangle wolves. “Have you been granted a secure den somewhere?”

  “Yessir,” said Hanoo.

  “Lead on,” the dragon implored, with a sharp chirrup for emphasis.

  Yoota and Ploom ran ahead in lanky tandem, making for New Saga’s campus. They bypassed the dormitory, circling around to one of the class building’s back doors. Either it wasn’t locked, or they had a key. Then again, from what Tenma had learned, any number of wards or barriers could be involved.

  Tenma couldn’t see much in the darkened halls, but the Amaranthine carried him along passages and up three flights of stairs before stopping at a blank stretch of wall. When Hanoo pressed his hand to it, a sigil appeared, and part of the wall vanished.

  Pushing aside a heavy drape, he gravely said, “The Nightspangle pack welcomes its friends.”

  “You have your own room in the school building?” Tenma asked.

  “Den,” Hanoo corrected. “And yes. We’re far from home, as are many of the clans who’ve agreed to help with Twineshaft’s venture. Clans who sent five or more representatives were guaranteed a safe space to retreat.”

  Yoota said, “Hisoka-sensei calls them pocket enclaves.”

  “Come and see,” urged Ploom, who eased Tenma out of his shoes.

  Hanoo lit a lantern, filling the air with the scent of struck matches and burnt wood. A brave candle glowed behind amber glass, revealing a space about the size of a club room. When Lapis set him down, Tenma sank into the coarse rug, which was either incredibly thick or spread over heavy matting. It was like a wall-to-wall futon. “This is nice,” he mumbled, dropping to his knees. “What is this?”

  “Fur,” said Yoota.

  “Nightspangle fur,” Hanoo added proudly.

  That was hard to process. “Like … pelts?” Tenma asked warily.

  “We use shed fur,” said Ploom. “Before we left, our families had a good long brushing, and our weavers used everything that was collected. That’s why this room smells like home.”

  Hanoo added, “It makes it easier to be so far away for so long.”

  Tenma absently petted the carpet, glad to know no Kith or Kindred had died in its making. “I didn’t think a year would seem long to you guys.”

  “We committed for the first decade.” Hanoo grinned. “Hisoka-sensei has us repeating your grade ten times over.”

  The grin reminded Tenma of little things like fangs, and he gripped the crystal in his hand a little tighter. Whatever Lapis had ordered it to do, it had worked. No qualms. No quakes. His classmates no longer scared him silly. He said, “A minimum of five clan members. I didn’t realize there were other Nightspangles here.”

  Yoota said, “My younger sister is with the first years, and an aunt is a teaching assistant. She also helps out in the Kith shelter, since we brought eight of our wolves over.”

  “It’s better for them here,” said Ploom. “What with the confusion back home.”

  Hanoo rolled his eyes. “Werewolf scares, if you can believe it.”

  Tenma couldn’t. “Sounds like the sort of thing Sosuke and his Cryptid Club would be interested in.”

  Lapis cut in. “Are you calmer, unsealed boy?”

  “Yes. Sorry. Yes.”

  The dragon lord held out his hand. “Excellent. Give back my bauble.”

  Tenma curled protectively around the stone. “But I need it.”

  “More than you need us?” Lapis arched his brows. “You require taming, so I am throwing you to the wolves. They clearly understand the process.”

  Hanoo said, “We do. It was our job back home. Although it’s been a few years since we had to deal with a strong aversion.”

  “Not since Jiminy.” Yoota rolled his eyes. “What a handful he was.”

  Ploom knelt before Tenma, putting them closer to the same level. “Little ones can’t understand why they’re scared, but you do. And you trust us, right?”

  “Taming.” He still wasn’t ready to let go of Lapis’ earring. “You mean I’d be cured? No more panic attacks?”

  “It’s why young reavers are exposed to Amaranthine early.” Ploom eased a little closer, his voice coaxing. “So they can master their instincts and get a shutter on their shine.”

  “Sort of like potty training,” Yoota offered.

  Tenma laughed nervously. “I’m already housebroken.”

  Lapis held out an imperious hand. “I am the only Broken here. If it puts your mind at ease, unsealed boy, I will monitor your progress.”

  “Join us,” offered Hanoo.

  A dismissive trill. “Focus on this one. He is more rare than you realize.”

  And Tenma found himself the focus of three wolves. With what scraps of dignity remained, he sucked in a final breath and surrendered his stone to Lapis. Just as quickly, the three wolves leapt into sharp focus, his senses registering the threat they presented to him—body and soul.

  They held very still.

  He gulped for air.

  Softly, gently, Hanoo said, “You did good to trust us, Tenma. You still okay with my touching you?”

  This was so much easier when the starting line wasn’t a state of blind panic. Tenma’s hands weren’t even shaking when he met Hanoo’s waiting palms. But he didn’t quite trust his voice.

  “Let’s get you settled. You must be tired.” Hanoo took his coat.

  Yoota pressed a warm washcloth to his cheek. “Need the restroom?”

  “R-really?” Tenma’s gaze roved the room, found the door.

  “All the conveniences of a modern den,” said Ploom. “We have a mini-fridge, too. Nice, huh?”

  “It is,” he managed.

  When he returned from washing up, Yoota and Ploom had arranged blankets and cushions in the corner. Hanoo waved him over. “Settle in. It’s the easiest way to stay in contact.”

  Tenma smiled weakly. “I slept over at Quen’s once. Like this.”

  Tails began to wag. “Pack style?” asked Yoota.

  “Yes. Lord Mossberne was there.”

  Lapis glanced up from studying his claws, which were tipped in blue. “Harmonious claimed the boy as pack. All very touching.”

  “Cool. This is like that.” Hanoo indicated the heaped furs. “Kind of a relief to be welcomed, honestly. Not a fan of polite distances.”

  Tenma sank to his knees with a shaky laugh. “You and Inti both. Is he okay? Do you know?”

  “He’s good,” Yoota promised, stretching out on his side. “He’s at that shrine they put on lockdown last week. Safe behind a barrier.”

  Lapis touched an earlobe. “I gave him a tuned crystal to get him past that barrier. I hope he realizes it was a loan. That particular shade is rarer than beacons.”

  Tenma had barely stretched out when Hanoo muttered, “Closer’s better. Come right on in. Use my shoulder.”

  “Make room for me.” Ploom crowded into the
scant space between Tenma and Yoota.

  It probably should have been unsettling, but Tenma paid little attention to the jumble of bodies and limbs. This close, he was aware of them in less tangible ways.

  “You’re doing good.” Hanoo removed Tenma’s glasses, stroked his hair. “You probably won’t be able to feel this, but bear with me for a while.”

  But Tenma definitely felt the gentle pressure, an unfamiliar intrusion that lit up his mind.

  “Breathe,” Hanoo ordered. “Relax and breathe. It’s only me, and I won’t hurt you.”

  “Doesn’t hurt,” he mumbled.

  From behind, Ploom nuzzled Tenma’s hair. “Gently, Hanoo. He’s barely more than a glimmer.”

  “That’s all I need.” Hanoo pulled Tenma snug against his larger frame. “Work with me here.”

  Tenma hummed an affirmative.

  Lapis’ voice came sharply. “What are you boys messing with?”

  “Best way we’ve found to settle a new denmate,” said Yoota.

  The dragon’s voice came closer. “Who taught you?”

  “Nobody,” said Yoota. “We made it up. Ploom figured out how to do it, but Hanoo’s best at it. Kids get their nestle on real quick when he’s the one gentling them.”

  “You will not meddle without proper supervision.” Lapis tossed aside furs, wading in. “This boy is mine.”

  “I thought you said Harmonious claimed him,” Yoota dared to point out.

  “I saw him first.” Lapis pointed to the spot he intended to take. “Starmark made him an honorary packmate, which is fine in its way. Harmonious excels at fathering. That is not a role I have ever expected to play.”

  Hanoo gave way with grace. “You’re welcome, of course, Lord Mossberne.”

  Lapis insinuated himself between Tenma and Hanoo, and after much grumbling and shifting, the dragon settled with his back against Hanoo’s chest, his face hidden in the vicinity of Tenma’s ribcage. Blue hair was absolutely everywhere.

  “Never nestled with a dragon before,” Ploom said, sounding awed.

  With a low hum, Lapis remarked, “Shared body heat is blissful in winter.”

  “Why didn’t you say you were cold,” Hanoo exclaimed, chaffing solicitously at the dragon’s shoulder.

  Yoota pulled another thick blanket over them, burying them deeper in fur.

  Lapis gave a happy little squirm, and Tenma grunted. “Your hands are cold.”

  “Hospitality to the Amaranthine is every reaver’s duty and delight,” he intoned.

  “I’m not a reaver.”

  “You are not registered.” And with the magnanimity of a benevolent conqueror, Lapis said, “Proceed, young Nightspangles. With extreme care.”

  FORTY-NINE

  Return of the Saint

  Kimiko led the way to a discreet side door in the largest of Kikusawa’s storehouses, an ancient two-story stone building with a deep basement. Packed with the clutter of decades past, she and her sisters slyly referred to this as the shrine’s closet. Never within her grandmother’s hearing, though. To her, this was the Treasury.

  A glance confirmed Kimiko’s suspicion. Hisoka, Argent, Sinder, and Boonmar-fen had fallen into step behind the Starmarks, probably eager for a peek at the promised reliquaries. She hoped they wouldn’t confiscate them. Grandma would definitely consider that theft.

  “Lady Starmark, I should check. We have quite a few weapons, so I don’t want to assume.” Kimiko lifted the bar that secured the door and paused on the threshold. “Is it the Chrysanthemum Blaze?”

  “You know where it rests?”

  Kimiko laughed. “In a place of honor. There is some debate as to whether the shrine is named for the blade or the blade for the shine. I had no idea it was yours.”

  Anna Starmark’s tone was brisk, but she answered patiently. “The sword is much older than I, and this has been its hiding place for more than a millennia. Rumors of its existence brought me here, and it became mine by virtue of necessity. In defending myself, I defended this place and its people.” With a pointed look at Harmonious, she amended, “We did.”

  “You’re the hound in the legend?” Kimiko asked.

  Harmonious grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet. Not an answer, but certainly confirmation.

  For the first time in her life, Kimiko was grateful that her grandmother was so strict about year-end cleaning. Thanks to the annual banishment of dust and dishevelment from every corner of their shrine, the treasury still smelled faintly of soaps, oils, and waxes. Although the shelves were crowded, everything was in its proper place.

  Stacks of lanterns. A festival float. Mask and drums. Cloth-wrapped bundles secured by knotted cords. Trunks with faded labels, some with sigils faintly gleaming. And scores of lacquered and inlaid boxes, each a work of art. These last were the building blocks of Kimiko’s childhood, for she’d treated the Treasury as a playhouse since her earliest days.

  Hisoka scanned the room. Kimiko had to wonder if he’d been here before. The cat seemed to know everything about everything, yet he gazed around with nothing more than polite interest. Was this a matter of feigned ignorance, or was he keeping the intensity of his curiosity under careful wraps?

  She leaned toward the latter. Sinder had been so urgent to inform Hisoka about the presence of golden seeds at Kikusawa.

  “Do you know what’s in all of these?” asked Sinder.

  “Oh, yes. I was such a snoop when I was little.” Her grandmother and her father had passed down the stories of the most prominent treasures in their care. But she and Noriko had nosed through every box, memorizing the pretty patterns on each lid and handling the items inside. Later, when Sakiko showed the knack, it was decided that she would walk Grandma’s path. Sakiko could recite the history of every item, rattling off names, dates, and facts with impressive poise.

  Kimiko supposed that made Sakiko the realist. Given Noriko’s temperament, she was easily cast as the romantic. But where did that leave Kimiko?

  “There,” said Anna Starmark, pointing to the cabinet that dominated the far wall. “The blade is there.”

  “Yes.” Aware of their close scrutiny, Kimiko took extra care, shielding their view with her body. The deep cabinet was as intricate as a puzzle box, with clever catches and hidden panels hiding its contents. A casual perusal would uncover a wealth in painted scrolls, jade carvings, and precious artifacts. But treasures of the In-between were more closely kept.

  “That cupboard is embedded with sigils, then overlaid again,” remarked Sinder.

  “Amaranthine workmanship?” asked Boon.

  “Silverprong craftsmanship,” said Kimiko, adding gentle pressure to a carved chrysanthemum as she lifted the catch. Members of the deer clan were responsible for several of their most beautiful cupboards and screens. And the carved wooden panels over their doorways, which were such a hassle to dust and oil.

  When she opened the double doors, Boon grunted.

  Hisoka sidled closer. “How unusual.”

  Understatement. Red crystals created a lavish floral pattern on the naked blade resting in its holder. While beautiful, the gleaming stones made the blade quite heavy for its size. The edge was certainly keen, but a sword so heavy wouldn’t be practical in battle. An Amaranthine could have lifted it, but the weapon was reinforced with a dazzling array of sigils to fend them off. Their mysterious sword was intended for reavers’ use.

  “Are you kidding me?” Sinder was backing away. “That thing actually exists?”

  “It’s been hidden here for quite some time.” Harmonious moved to the dragon’s side. “Kept in reserve for emergencies.”

  “The Chrysanthemum Blaze is our most valuable and most enigmatic treasure. Our records offer little more than the name and an order to keep its presence here a secret.” Kimiko gestured for Anna to reclaim the blade. “We’re only supposed to yield it to someone who already knows it’s here.”

  Anna hefted the sword. “Until today, Harmonious and I may have been the only o
nes to know.”

  Kimiko really wanted more information. “My grandfather speculated that the craftsmanship is Amaranthine, but the blade somehow fell into reavers’ hands.”

  “You could say that.” Sinder was actually hiding behind Harmonious now. “That thing’s one of the Junzi.”

  While Kimiko’s mind leapt immediately to her favorite brand of chocolate, she guessed he was making reference to classical art. “Are you saying this sword is part of Amaranthine lore?”

  “It’s certainly part of dragon lore,” said Sinder. “Every hatchling knows about the danger represented by the Junzi. They’re the stuff of nightmares.”

  “The Four Gentlemen—chrysanthemum, plum, orchid, and bamboo,” said Hisoka. “They have long represented the seasons.”

  “How well-mannered and tame.” Sinder remained on edge. “We call them the Four Storms.”

  Kimiko had assumed the sword must be ornamental, a work of art in the form of a weapon. She liked to think it might have been used as an anchor for a vast barrier or illusion. But thanks to Michael’s recent lessons in crystals as amplifiers of sigilcraft, she knew that wasn’t possible. Crystals of this color were a lure, useful in the construction of traps. She was almost afraid to ask. “I don’t know much dragon lore. What’s this sword meant to do?”

  The dragon closed his mouth and shook his head.

  Anna answered for him. “In a reaver’s hands, the Chrysanthemum Blaze has two uses. The first is to trap dragons.”

  Tension rippled around the room, and Kimiko tried to break it. “That’s oddly specific.”

  “Aptly specific,” murmured Hisoka.

  Boonmar-fen eyed the blade with interest. “Funnel a beacon’s blaze through that much red crystal, and she’ll out-ply any dragon.”

  “Only if they’re fool enough to stay within range,” said Harmonious. “Last time we used the Blaze, the dragons fled, and Keishi was spared any further destruction.”

  Hisoka hummed. “You mentioned two uses, Lady Starmark?”