Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga Book 4)

by Forthright

  “They do?”

  The boy smiled. “Touch is part of familiarization. And I find it reassuring.”

  Mikoto’s fingertips grazed freckled scales. “You do?”

  “I do. Because you are neither afraid of nor disgusted by me.”

  What a thing to suggest.

  “Not everyone finds the marks of my heritage beautiful.”

  That remark was even more telling than the last.

  The boy could see right through him. Had weighed Mikoto in a balance and somehow found him worthy. But Kyrie was also baring something vulnerable. People feared this gentle child? Flinched away or thought him ugly? Mikoto felt a surge of indignation, of protectiveness.

  Kyrie shuffled closer. “We are becoming friends …?”

  “We are friends.” Mikoto pulled him into an embrace. “And not simply because you are beautiful.”

  The boy practically melted into him, which was such an Amaranthine thing to do. It put Mikoto back on familiar footing. How many colts and bucks and pups had he carried and cuddled? And the whisperlings of the Dimityblest clans, who flocked to his side as if he were their flame. Children needed this.

  He gradually became aware that they were alone in Zisa’s little house, even though sunlight still angled sharply through the eastern window. A breeze puffed past sheer fabric, stirring the tiny chime Timur had added. Mikoto had the sudden impression that the puff of wind had been looking for him, which was probably his imagination. Even though it riffled through his hair.

  Kyrie was watching his face. “I am curious about you, too. You are the only other person I know who is loved by wind.”

  “You are? Because you are a dragon?”

  “I used to think so, but … no. I have come to believe that I am loved because I listen. I was born with ears to hear.” Kyrie tipped his head to one side, as if catching faint sounds. “In stories, only a few rare souls ever win the trust of the lost clans. Moonbeams are only ever caught by those who can cherish them, and stars only set their feet upon the earth when love compels them.”

  Mikoto dared to ask, “What about wind?”

  “The most elusive of all impressions.” Kyrie pulled himself up onto Mikoto’s lap. “Did you know that sigilcraft would not be possible without the wind’s cooperation?”

  He shook his head. He’d only really paid attention to the stories of fabled weapons and epic partnerships between reavers and their Kith. Battler stuff.

  Kyrie’s fingers traced through the air, pulling luminous strands into a pattern. He gave it wings and blew it a kiss, and it twirled into action, dancing around Noble’s ears like a butterfly.

  “We write upon tame winds, or so the stories say.”

  “I did not know.”

  “Not all winds are tame, of course. Most are fickle, but I have always been able to make friends.”

  “Because you listen.”

  Kyrie nodded. “The ones that like me best will bring me things. Scents or sounds or secrets. Sometimes, I know how they feel.”

  Mikoto couldn’t bring himself to ask. He didn’t need to.

  “You make yours happy.”

  “I did not know,” he mumbled again. “How could I know?”

  The boy nodded. “That is why you need a dragon. Because a willing wind can be captured by their words. If that is your wish.”

  Mikoto had been wishing along an entirely different line. But he wanted to know more. “Are there stories besides the one Sinder told?”

  “Yes. Quite a few.” Kyrie said, “Woo an ethereal one to your side, and feel their kisses. Teach them your form, and you shall find pleasure in theirs. Twain lives, thus entwining, bring new light and life. For such are the ways of love.”

  It was suggestive enough to make Mikoto blush. “Are you not a little young for this kind of thing?”

  “Yes. But you are not.” Kyrie folded his hands together. “Your wind has been trying to catch your attention. Have you begun to notice, now that you know she is near?”

  Mikoto glanced toward the windchime, which stirred enough to offer one dainty ping. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Kyrie calmly studied his face. “You could release her.”

  “How?”

  “Reject her. Winds hardly ever settle or stay. Most scholars believe it is not in their nature.” He hesitated, then added, “Something that makes her attachment noteworthy.”

  “Alternatively …?”

  “Invite her to stay.” Those deep red eyes were soft. “That would make a nice story.”

  For Mikoto, there had only ever been Lupe. But what if the things he’d always loved most about her were actually the workings of an imp? “But to take a wife, sight unseen?”

  “It is my understanding that such contracts are commonplace in the reaver community.” Kyrie breezed on. “It is not easy for those of the sky clans to stand upon the earth, but neither is it impossible.”

  “And you know the way?”

  “I know the stories.” Kyrie quietly asked, “Are you sure you want to know?”

  Mikoto hugged the boy close and confessed, “I am confused and embarrassed and uncertain of everything. But I do want to know.”

  “You are very brave.” Kyrie nodded approvingly. “According to the old tales, you would give her a name. ‘Call to her, and she will hear you. Reach for her, and she will reach back.’ But I think she already has a name. Perhaps Lupe gave it to her.”

  “Lupe knows?”

  “Yes, I think so. It may be what binds them.”

  Mikoto had desperately wanted to believe that Lupe had returned for his sake. And maybe she had, in a roundabout way. But why hadn’t she told him? He cringed inwardly. “Lupe is staying with my sister, but I have not been back to the house since First Day.”

  “Go to her,” urged Kyrie. “Ask her for the name. Only ….”

  “Yes?”

  The boy shyly asked, “Can I be there when you call for her?”

  Not if.

  When.

  Mikoto liked this boy. “I want you there, my friend. I will need you there. You and Sinder both.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Invisible Friend

  Mikoto clasped Waaseyaa’s hand and mumbled, “I need to go home.”

  “They will be missing you, I am sure.”

  He couldn’t bring himself to let go. “I have been neglectful.”

  “You have been where you needed to be.” Waaseyaa slipped the end of his braid into Mikoto’s hand. “Now, Zisa and I will have a turn at missing you.”

  “I may come hurrying back,” he joked, winding and unwinding the black braid around his fist.

  Uncle smiled. “You will always be welcome.”

  Because he knew it was safe to ask, Mikoto did. “Have I been running away?”

  Again, Waaseyaa said, “You have been where you needed to be.”

  Mikoto accepted that with a nod, released his uncle, and pocketed Noble. He turned to leave, nearly bowling over Zisa. The tree twin threw his arms around Mikoto’s neck and whispered in his ear. “Are you running away now?”

  “No,” he promised. Even though there was a sizeable part of him that didn’t want to face Lupe. “Can anyone outrun the wind?”

  Zisa giggled.

  Mikoto sighed. “I need to go home. Lupe is there, and she might know the name I need.”

  “Your Lupe?” Zisa’s smile faltered.

  “She is not mine,” he mumbled, avoiding the tree’s gaze. “Sinder thinks she is the one who has been bringing the wind.”

  “Her … twin?”

  “Maybe a little like that.” Mikoto gently extricated himself from Zisa’s embrace. “I will not know until I ask. Or until the wind has words.”

  Zisa made a little shooing motion, although he said, “Come back soon.”

  Mikoto nodded and set his face toward home, though his steps lagged. Feeling overly conspicuous, he left the path, sneaking through the trees until he reached the back gate. He hesitated there, sudden
ly feeling like an outsider.

  How long had he been at Zisa’s? Ten days, more or less. Yulin would know for sure. Was that all the time it took for him to become a stranger to everything?

  Even grief?

  Even heartbreak?

  Maybe he had allowed himself to become wrapped up with the newcomers in order to distract himself. Had he been putting off coming home because pain would ambush him here?

  Mikoto let Noble down, putting off the inevitable long enough for the pup to piddle on a fencepost. Trudging to the door, he slipped inside and stood listening.

  After so many days of male companionship, he worried about returning to a house filled with females, but time had been passing here, as well. He peeked through enough doorways to confirm that his older half-sisters had gone back to their own houses. Were they done with mourning and getting on with Wardenclave business? Picking up Mikoto’s slack. Seeing to the needs of their annual guests.

  He supposed he was feeling less blighted by his father’s absence. Although he really would have liked his opinion on wind lore.

  The achingly familiar rustle of paper came from the next room, and Mikoto turned toward it. Yulin was here. He would hear Mikoto out. He might even know something helpful. Mikoto hurried forward, totally unprepared to find Lupe lounging on a sofa, nibbling on toast while paging through a communique.

  Stumbling to a stop, his mind stalled.

  Lupe. He’d barely given her a thought in all the days he’d been at Zisa’s. And for the first time in his life, the sight of her brought mixed feelings.

  The air in the room seemed to swell and settle, and Lupe looked up. “Hello, Mikoto. I was beginning to think you were avoiding me.”

  He shook his head. “Not really.”

  “Glint emerged from your room days ago.” Her lips tipped teasingly. “Where have you been?”

  “My uncle’s.”

  She searched his face. “Are you doing okay?”

  Mikoto was tempted to make an excuse and shy away from the things that made him want to run. But he felt as if he’d made promises—to Zisa, to Sinder, to Kyrie. And that in a way, they were at his back, lending their support.

  “I am better. I will be fine. The founders are watching over me.”

  Noble scampered into the room. Lupe exclaimed over him, and Mikoto explained about Glint’s gift. She listened and laughed and put him at ease. And still, he had a hard time broaching the topic they needed to discuss.

  Thinking to work his way up to it, he blurted, “May I ask you something?”

  Lupe settled back, her hands folded over her belly. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Is it possible that you brought a stowaway when you came here?” Backpedaling, he clarified, “Not you personally. I meant your traveling party.”

  “I’ll need you to be more specific,” she said carefully.

  “A little creature.” He measured Rifflet’s length with both hands. “Looks like some variety of Ephemera, probably because of its size. We think it belongs to some branch of dragonkind. My friend believes it to be a wind dragon.”

  “Oh,” Lupe said, sounding disappointed. She turned toward the back of the house and called, “Priska!”

  Her Amaranthine mentor stepped into view, making it very clear that they’d not been alone.

  “See? I didn’t miscount.” Lupe’s chin tipped to a stubborn angle. “I knew one went missing.”

  Priska inclined her head, then addressed Mikoto. “Where is the hatchling?”

  “He is in good hands.”

  Her slit-pupiled eyes narrowed. Mikoto had no idea which animal was attached to Priska’s clan. That, along with most everything else about the Eldermost Islands, was veiled in secrets. But he guessed it must be something fierce.

  “A male, then? That is less tragic. Unless he is a rare color.”

  Mikoto hadn’t expected to find the source of their mystery so quickly. “Light yellow. Sort of creamy.”

  “A shame,” Priska said flatly. “Many favor that hue. It is auspicious.”

  “I did not know.”

  She curled her lip. “You know more than you were ever meant to.”

  He shuffled his feet. “I am headman, now.”

  “This is grove business,” Priska countered snappishly.

  Mikoto conceded that with a nod. Waaseyaa was the most noteworthy tree-kin in Wardenclave, but he wasn’t the only one. However, Denholm’s ancient grove was under the founders’ protection, not the Reaver family’s. Mikoto wasn’t sure where the trees were hidden, but he knew they were nearby. And secure.

  Guessing wind dragons were a safer topic, Mikoto asked, “So there are more of them?”

  Priska sniffed. “Enough that one will not be missed.”

  “My friend knew of them, but he thought them extinct.”

  “It was a close thing.” Priska’s tone mellowed slightly. “Their return bodes well for the finding of other lost things.”

  Mikoto came to sit on one of the chairs across from Lupe. Again, he couldn’t quite bring up the most essential subject. “Can you tell me anything about your new home?”

  Lupe’s smile was an apology. “You know I can’t.”

  “Not secret things.” He carried plenty of those himself. “I only want to know that … that you do not regret your choice.”

  She looked to Priska, who grumbled and shrugged. Which seemed to mean that she’d allow her apprentice to speak. But the Amaranthine stalked to the bookcase and pretended to peruse the titles. A chaperone? Or simply ready to jump in if Lupe seemed close to giving too much away.

  “I live on an uncharted island,” Lupe began. “A safe place, untouched by storms. No one can find us, even by accident. Life is simple, but also more magical.”

  Mikoto nodded to let her know he was listening.

  Her tone warmed. “There are sea turtles, and we ride them through turquoise lagoons. And on calm nights, the sea is a mirror, so that the stars seem to be both above and below.”

  “Are the people nice?” He resisted the temptation to add, or are they all as prickly as Priska?

  “My husband is gentle and generous.” Lupe smoothed a hand over her abdomen. “He’s awaiting our return. Probably quite anxiously.”

  “Is he …?” Mikoto fumbled for a nice way to ask. “Are you …?”

  Lupe cut a glance in Priska’s direction. “He’s gentle and generous and … quite a bit older than me.”

  Priska snorted.

  “And I get along well with his sister, who is his twin.”

  Mikoto guessed that the hint was big enough. Her husband was someone like Uncle Waaseyaa, someone bound to a tree in some far-off grove. Lupe’s children would be strong, for their father’s life was inextricably bound to a rare tree.

  When he finally found his voice, Mikoto dared to ask, “Is it a good match?”

  “Tzefira thinks so.”

  He stopped.

  Stopped hearing, stopped thinking, stopped breathing. But a breeze caressed his cheek and tickled his nose and threatened to fill his lungs lest he collapse from lack of air. And then he was hyperventilating, and Priska was pounding his back, and Lupe was laughing and crying and babbling in Spanish.

  “You finally noticed?” Priska asked. “By all that is sacred, it took you long enough.”

  Lupe raised a slim hand. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Mikoto, is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

  He did. Ever since he was nine, he’d wanted to ask her to be his. It was embarrassing to realize that it had always been the wrong question. Or that he’d always been the wrong one to ask it. That someone far, far away had been longing for a bride like Lupe. And that someone closer than his next breath had been hoping he would notice her.

  “Lupe,” he croaked. “I am sorry.”

  She wagged a finger at him. “Ask properly, now. This is important.”

  Mikoto agreed, but that only made him more tongue-tied. “W-was there another stowaway?”

&
nbsp; “Yes.”

  He cleared his throat and fought to steady his voice. “As it happens, there are two dragons here. Well, one and a half. And they have been telling me stories about the wind.”

  Lupe sank back on the sofa. “She has the most amazing luck.”

  Priska’s snort seemed to be agreement.

  “Mikoto, please,” said Lupe. “Will you listen to my story? The short version, anyhow.”

  “I will listen.” He offered his fingertips to Noble, who’d wriggled free of Lupe in the excitement. “Help me understand.”

  “I’ve always had a second voice in my head. When I was very little, my parents assumed I’d invented her. But once I was a little older and better at expressing myself, I was able to convince them that I had more than my imagination for company. I was assessed, and that sparked off a bunch of excitement.” Lupe smiled. “I am the first reach in the family since my paternal great-grandfather.”

  Mikoto had known, had always been impressed. “A rare classification.”

  “No one knows for sure if my invisible friend was drawn to me because I would be able to hear her … or if she nurtured and amplified my nascent talent so we’d be able to communicate.” Lupe flicked that aside as inconsequential. “Either way, I was promoted to First of Reaches during my last summer here.”

  He hadn’t known that. Then again, she wasn’t one to brag.

  “My family searched for answers, but all we really know is that Tzefira came to me after a long journey. She was in a weakened state, and I was the refuge she needed. We’ve never been apart, and we might have continued as one. But then you happened.”

  “The day I fell into the river?”

  Lupe laughed. “Long before that. It’s her fault that I became friends with Hana. She liked your mother and your sisters, but you were always her favorite. The beautiful boy with the sweet soul and the sturdy build and the steadfast heart.”

  Mikoto knew he was blushing. Wouldn’t anyone? Priska watched him closely, arms folded, and when their eyes met, she smirked. But not unkindly.

  “She wanted me to wait for you.”

  His attention jumped back to Lupe.

  “But that wouldn’t have been fair. To either of you.” Lupe didn’t shy away from the hopes she must have known he harbored. “And you would have come between us.”