Show me Tenma
Again
Ginkgo zoomed in and snapped another picture. A good one, since it showed Isla hovering at his shoulder, talking his ear off. She’d arrived with Harmonious, and she was taking her duties seriously. Not as Tenma’s go-between this time, but representing her parents’ keen interest in these arrangements.
He blushes like a maiden
Is she his choice?
More like WE are
A practical alliance
For now, but probably not for always
Tenma reminds me a little of Mom
He wants a family, a home
He shall have them
At a wave of Glint’s hand, Scribe Dimityblest placed a handwritten contract before Tenma. Lilya’s offer for him, now in its third revision after Lapis and Isla had spent most of yesterday on the phone, quibbling over details.
Tenma’s only condition hadn’t changed—mutual exclusivity.
For the rest, he bowed to the wishes of Lilya and her family.
“Under normal circumstances, I would not have imagined, let alone arranged this union,” said Glint, who seemed oblivious to the intense looks he was receiving. “But the young lady is most insistent, and her parents are adamant in their support of their daughter’s right to choose her own happiness.”
“That would be you,” murmured Harmonious, his eyes shining with pride.
Glint went on. “Tenma Subaru, your existence is unique, and your future wife is counted among the stars. May your joy in one another create a new constellation on the horizon. Will you take a new name for the house you establish?”
Behind him, Isla gasped.
This was probably a huge honor.
“Do I have to declare that now?” asked Tenma.
“No.”
“Then I would prefer to wait. I’ll want L-lilya’s opinion on the matter.” He was such a schoolboy. Dropping the honorific didn’t have to be a big deal. The others probably didn’t even notice.
Ah, but there. Kyrie both noticed and knew. His small nod accepted the intimacy.
Lapis pressed a pen into his hand. Harmonious indicated the place for his signature.
With the faint scratch of a nib across parchment, Tenma chose his own happiness, sure that it would be shared. “Right,” he murmured to himself. “We’re set then.”
SIXTY
My Half
Timur dragged into Zisa’s cottage and stood mute in the hush, caressing Gregor’s silken curls. He was tired of smiling, tired of feasting. Worn out by toasts and dancing and laughter.
Everyone had presented themselves well.
Mikoto’s nobility throughout back-to-back ceremonies—induction and wedding.
Hisoka’s Dichotomy Day address, with Isla standing just behind, looking so sophisticated.
Harmonious Starmark’s booming re-announcement of the birth of his first crosser grandchild.
Timur had soldiered through, stiff upper lip intact, but he’d found his limit. “Here, now.” His voice crackled. “Is Papka’s little battler ready for a bath?”
Propping Gregor against Fend’s flank, he went to fill the tub.
For the first time in days, he ignored the collection of herbs and scents he’d have used to appeal to Sinder. The dragon would be back to work, same as everyone else, once the Dichotomy Day celebrations came to a close at the end of the week. They wouldn’t go to waste, but they weren’t needed now.
Plain water.
Plain soap.
Plain facts.
It was a terrible thing, taking after both parents. Like Papka, Timur easily formed attachments. But like Mum, he guarded them jealously. So he took it too personally when people moved on.
When a glowering phoenix in a fine suit had descended on Wardenclave like a thundercloud, Sinder hadn’t even looked back in his hurry to reach him. Knowing he and Juuyu were partners made Sinder’s vanishing act understandable. Still hurt, though.
Timur should probably be grateful for the reality check. He wasn’t going to find what was missing in a summer friend. Everyone here had lives to go back to. Even him. And he shouldn’t be whinging about what he lacked. Not when he’d struggled through so much in order to gain a son.
Shedding feast day finery, they dawdled through bathtime. Whimsical sigilcraft, cradle songs, and enough exuberant splashing to earn a few hisses from Fend.
Gradually, Timur calmed enough to smile for Gregor. “What is good is hard. But is still good, yes?”
Timur was suddenly awake and seriously confused. The room was dark, and someone was sifting fingers through his hair. He could feel the gentle scrape of claws. “Ginkgo?”
“No.”
Whoever it was licked a long stripe up his cheek.
He didn’t know who it was. Didn’t smell like Zisa. Didn’t smell like a stranger. Who even had access to Waaseyaa’s and Zisa’s haven?
“You aren’t usually this indecisive when attacked.”
“Not sure this is an attack.”
“Full points. It’s not.”
Crisp enunciation and a cultured accent. A flatness that suggested a dry sense of humor. But with a slight lift that was almost … flirtatious.
Timur flipped his assailant.
“Mind the baby,” said the stranger, clearly unconcerned by the arm across his throat.
“Who …?”
“Missed an appendage,” interrupted his captive. Something boffed Timur across the face. “Light a couple of crystals. I’m curious to see what else I have to work with.”
Now he was giving orders? Timur growled, “Who put you in charge?”
“I may not have your bulk, but you don’t have my strength.”
For one disorienting moment, Timur lost contact with the bed. Flipped, dropped, and pressed into the mattress, all he could think to say was, “Mind the baby.”
“I always do.” His captor’s voice was at his ear then. “And I’ve always been in charge. Now, light a couple of crystals.”
Timur hesitated. Because a strange possibility had finally occurred to him.
“You can finally hear my voice. At least have the good grace to listen.”
“Crystals are on the bedside table.”
A long stretch. Warm fingers. Cool stones.
Timur lofted one and then another and stared blankly at an Amaranthine who looked more or less his own age. Brown skin, dark brows, thick lashes, and vividly orange eyes with slit pupils.
He left off studying his claws to fix Timur with a decidedly smug gaze. “Opposable thumbs. I’m thinking they’ll be a game changer.”
“F-fend?”
“I’ll permit your perusal, so long as you keep what we find in the strictest confidence.”
Which was definitely another order.
Timur sat up and helped his Kith partner explore his speaking form. The feline arched his back, wriggled his hips, rubbed his hands together, and flex and retracted the claws in his feet, which were more like elongated paws. Everything must have proven satisfactory because he began to purr.
“Fend?”
“Hmm?” He sprawled limply over Timur’s chest, now clad in boxers and luxuriating in the petting of the velvety panther ears atop his head.