Page 13 of Alder Woodacre and the Acorns of Affection (Amaranthine Interludes #3)

A tumult of emotions jerked Kip from sleep, filling him with the sudden, overwhelmingly insistent knowledge that his bondmate needed him.

Worry and confusion and fear seeped through their bond, and he needed to go, to get to Jiro.

But the urgency faltered for several beats as he stared in complete confusion at the child sharing his nest.

“Who are you?” he muttered. Working free of the blankets brought new information to light, in the form of a splendid squirrel tail.

“Okay, got it. Argent’s here, and you’re the kid Jacques wanted to foist on me. Guess Jiro took a liking.” He put the blankets back to rights and dropped a kiss atop the boy’s head. “Sleep tight, little cousin.”

He banished several wards while pulling open the door. But his rush stalled out at finding a stranger in the upstairs hall.

“Good lord!” exclaimed the man who’d been passing by. “Kip, I presume. My brother mentioned you. Argent did, too, but in far less flattering terms.”

Kindred scents helped. “Smythe …?”

“Boniface Smythe.”

“Where’s Joe?”

“With Kyrie, which will be no help. I understand he’s virtually untraceable. Dragons, you know. But Anan is hard to miss.”

Kip was still a little sluggish from his abrupt waking. “I’m sorry?”

“A storm.” Boniface stepped back, giving him room to pass. “Kyrie is bound to an eldermost storm.”

It was enough.

Kip leapt the first flight of stairs and cornered onto the second, anxious to get out the door.

He blew through the kitchen without pause, despite his stomach’s eager growl, and managed to not yank the kitchen door off its hinges.

He gained the outdoors and careened toward his beacon, reaching him before the screen door slapped shut in his wake.

Jiro grabbed a fistful of Kip’s T-shirt, then hid his face against his shoulder.

Several people started talking at once, but Kip wasn’t in the mood to listen. Scooping up his bondmate, he shot back the way he’d come, flinging illusions in his wake to cover their retreat. Needing answers, he didn’t go far. The barn’s loft was as good a hideaway as any.

He sat Jiro on a bale of straw, then set to work crafting decoys and barriers. Just in case.

“That should do it. Now. What’s happening?” He knelt before Jiro, whose eyes were bright with unshed tears.

“Don’t … want …” he gasped out.

“I hear you. Take it easy. We have time.”

To Kip’s surprise, Jiro slid from the bale and crawled into his arms. Usually, they only got this close for sleep, but …

oh. He suddenly remembered the confession that had knocked him sideways and left him dizzy before sending him into sleep.

But that probably wasn’t the most important thing right now.

Kip wrapped his tail around his bondmate and asked, “What happened?”

“Someone at the gate.”

“Okay. Someone new?”

“From Wardenclave.”

“No kidding?” Kip tried to share some of his relative calm. “Anybody we know?”

“He said he’s a … friend of the family.”

“Gotcha. But why’s that a problem? What did he say to you? It must have been a big deal because your response woke me up.”

“Sorry.”

“What was it, Jiro?”

“Remember when you put sigils on me …? Made me your stash …?”

“Yeah, of course. Might’ve been the craziest thing I ever did, claiming a beacon.”

“You did it to keep me safe.”

“Yep.”

“Your sigil meant … no matter what, you had a prior claim.”

“That’s the gist, yeah.”

“That person.”

“The guy at the gate,” Kip prompted.

“He said he sealed me.” Joe’s expression crumpled. “Doesn’t that mean he has a prior claim?”