The little one came easily, winding around Ginkgo’s fingers, then forearm. With more soft vocalizations, Rifflet rubbed his jaw against Ginkgo’s knuckle. It was tough to say who was taming whom.
“Darn cute. Dad’ll want a dozen.” With extreme care, he pressed the smooth side of a claw into Rifflet’s mouth. “Give us a look, little mister. What are you packing?”
“He’s not poisonous,” offered Lilya. “Glint said so.”
“Ephemera aren’t aggressive. No stingers, no fangs, no poison. They don’t bite, they don’t hunt.” Pulling free, Ginkgo tickled Rifflet under the chin. “Which is why I seriously doubt your new friend qualifies. He has a proper set of teeth, and that usually spells carnivore.”
“Interesting,” remarked Salali. “May I?”
“What do you say?” Ginkgo asked the little dragon. “Do you have room in your affections for this scruffy squirrel?”
Lilya giggled.
Rifflet’s answering twitter sounded like laughter.
“I do apologize, Miss Ward. I know nearly everything that can be known about Wardenclave and its environs, but he isn’t from these parts.” Salali stroked Rifflet’s crest with one finger. “By all means, ask Sinder. Though if you tarry a little longer, my friend may offer some insight.”
Ginkgo glanced at the door. “Who is this friend of yours?”
Salali angled his head toward the front door, which swung open.
Tenma dragged through, looking—and smelling—like he’d lost a long siege against a mud puddle. “I’m late. I’m sorry. Goh-sensei needed me to prep tomorrow’s clay since he’s filling in for Sinder tonight. Good evening, Ginkgo. Hello, Lilya-chan.”
“Already friends?” Salali’s eyes were bright with interest.
Without hesitation, Tenma provided some oblique context. “I’ve been a guest at Stately House.”
Ginkgo wondered how often. Dad definitely depended on him to help Tsumiko with the running of the household. But when it came to grand schemes, Lord Mettlebright kept his own counsel. Or confided in Jacques. And despite appearances, Tenma was a top tier, grand scheme kind of guy.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to follow the strategies that kept his dad busy, but Ginkgo was okay with his need-to-know basis. His focus was on the den, not the world outside.
Which made this summer exceptional.
At first blush, Dad had sent him to watch out for the kids—Kyrie, Lilya, Timur, and Gregor. With understated instructions to keep his ears and eyes open. Information about trees. Information about foxes. Information about dragons. All the sorts of things you’d expect.
Except Ginkgo couldn’t shake the idea that Dad was doing Dad things. Which meant he might be in the middle of a very foxish endeavor.
No place was safer than Stately House. But people knew about it. So Dad had stashed them someplace that wasn’t on any maps. Borrowing Salali’s longstanding barriers and Denholm’s pack of over-protective dogs, he’d limited—if not outright eliminated—the chances of discovery.
Argent Mettlebright’s eggs were no longer in one basket.
Was he acting on Hisoka Twineshaft’s advice? Or had he arranged things because he was acting on his own … and unable to personally ensure his sons’ safety while away from Stately House? Where was Dad now? Ginkgo had no way of knowing.
“Your ice cream is melting,” Salali called as he escorted Tenma to the freezer.
While he was out of earshot, Ginkgo nudged Lilya. “We okay?”
“Better than,” she assured. “But … do you think we can talk to Sinder tonight?”
“Not sure. We can try, though. But let’s see what Tenma has to say about Rifflet.”
Lilya shook her head. “He didn’t even notice.”
“I dunno, little girl.” Ginkgo had heard plenty of gossip about Tenma’s capabilities. “I don’t think he misses much.”
Lilya fished a pecan out of her ice cream and offered it to Rifflet, who was now tangled between Tenma’s long fingers. The little dragon clasped the morsel with dainty forepaws and nibbled contentedly.
“No,” Tenma admitted, his gaze soft. “I haven’t seen anyone like him before.”
“You’re sure?” Lilya pressed.
He nodded. “I wouldn’t be able to forget. He’s all rainbows.”
Salali leaned forward. “As in … prismatic?”
“Hey, now,” grumbled Ginkgo. “Where’d you hear that?”
“I’m a squirrel,” he replied innocently. “I spend a lot of time in trees.”
“Eavesdropping.”
Salali smiled and changed the subject. “How do you like your courses, Miss Lilya? Have you learned anything useful?”
“I like it here,” she offered, since that was a safe answer. She didn’t really see the point to most of the courses available to her age group. She and Kyrie had matching schedules, but she’d let him do the picking. So it mostly felt like she was tagging along. Same as always.
“And it’s your first summer camp, as well?”
It took a moment for them to realize Salali was addressing