Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga Book 4)

by Forthright

  Sinder thought it more likely that an even greedier instinct drove the rogue. He wanted to gain the sky.

  The rogue was after wings, something that traditionally took a thousand years. But the truth was far less poetic. It went without saying that dragon lords had long been forming alliances with reavers and benefiting from their tending. What most left unsaid was that those who consumed the souls of reavers—even the undisciplined, unrefined souls of unregistered reavers—could gain those selfsame wings.

  And damn the rest of them.

  The lords had looked on in horror when mounting evidence pointed to a dragon as the perpetrator of heinous crimes against humanity. Immediately, they’d put the scholars of the heights to work. Registries were opened. Lineages traced. Eggs tallied. Identities confirmed. And to the mystification of all, every male was both found and found innocent.

  Meaning the rogue dragon was an impossibility.

  No male had sired him. No female had carried him.

  And nobody would believe them.

  Despite every protestation of peace, dragons would be vilified. So when Hisoka Twineshaft approached the lords, asking for any detail, no matter how small, that would give trackers an edge in the chase, the dragons pledged their cooperation.

  And when the cat smiled and singled out the Graennturn enclave’s IT specialist, nobody questioned his choice in emissaries. Sinder was plucked from the heights of an urban high rise, thrown to the wolves, partnered to a phoenix, and trusted with more secrets than anyone should have to keep.

  His musing were interrupted by the arrival of three reavers in the small clearing at the base of his hideaway. Had they managed to track him? That was promising.

  No Kith in evidence. Should he trip a new trap? Just to see if they’d learned their lesson.

  Earlier, the rookies had taken two hours to realize he’d compromised four of their members. If not for the Kith in their midst, they might never have realized that they’d begun trapping each other instead of him.

  A low growl. A soft hiss.

  Sinder glanced over his shoulder and winced as the twist pulled at his injuries. “He warded you? Smart.”

  Timur’s feline partner crouched in the shadow of a bush, orange eyes burning with predatory zeal.

  “Then again, he said you were the smart one.” Sinder did not like the twitch in Fend’s tail. “You going to let me off easy?”

  The panther’s lips peeled back, baring fangs, and his growl escalated into a snarl.

  Sinder swore and sprang away, barely evading Fend’s pounce. The animal’s scream alerted the battlers and spurred Sinder through the treetops. He’d have to add a line in his report about warding the Kith, which was terrifyingly effective. Hisoka would be pleased. Michaelson and Fend were exactly what Naroo-soh needed—invulnerable and innovative.

  Teetering to a halt on the sagging limb of an old pine, he worked his way closer to the trunk and climbed to one of the hideaways he’d created back when the rookies were more gullible. The scent of tree sap wasn’t the best cover, but if he was lucky, he could catch his breath.

  “Let me have a look.”

  Sinder started violently enough to lose his balance, but strong hands grabbed his wrists. Which was a little too much like being held captive. But his captor turned him loose and raised both hands.

  “Peace, Sinder. Or should I call you Damsel?” Salali Fullstash grinned at him from under the brim of a battered hat. “I’m a neutral party in these games, so you’re not caught.”

  “Salali,” he mumbled. “Right. Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.”

  “Let me have a look,” he repeated with calm authority. “Or the scent of blood will give away your position quicker than a sneeze.”

  Was he bleeding? Sinder pressed a hand to the stitch in his side.

  “Hold this.” Salali pressed a blue pebble into his hand. “Gent, pass him Merl’s bundle.”

  An overlarge blue jay dropped through the pine boughs and hopped sideways along the branch. From his beak dangled a cloth bag. Sinder accepted it with a puzzled nod.

  “Eat,” ordered Salali, who was busily unwinding lengths of gauze.

  The bundle contained bite-sized squares of dense cake, thick with dried fruit and nuts. Popping one into his mouth, Sinder slowly chewed. And immediately felt better. He hadn’t realized he was hungry. Rookie mistake. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

  “Thank Ginkgo.” Salali slowly daubed a greenish paste onto the worst gash. Something antiseptic but laced with spikenard. “He owes me a favor. The goo and goodies are from Merl.”

  Sinder mumbled around a mouthful. “As much as I needed a friend in my corner, this feels like cheating.”

  “For all we know, the rogue has allies, too.” Salali shifted in midair to doctor a different abrasion. “It could explain why there are glimmers of brilliance in a pattern dominated by baser instincts.”

  A second individual, somehow party to the crimes? Did the rogue—like Timur—have a smart partner? Someone with intelligence and influence. That was a chilling thought.

  “Can I add that bit of speculation to my next report?” Sinder asked.

  “Depends who you’re reporting to.”

  “Twineshaft.”

  “Tell him,” said Salali. “Tell him everything. Even if it doesn’t seem important. Even if it doesn’t seem related.”

  Sinder muttered, “I’ll know.”

  “What’ll you know?” countered the squirrel clansman lightly.

  “I’ll know if it’s important. I’ll know if it’s related.”

  Salali pushed a second crystal into Sinder’s hand like he was bartering for secrets. “Why?”

  “Because Twineshaft tells me things.” And it was important for this person to know it.

  “Things? Or everything?” With a low chuckle, the squirrel clansman made an impressive leap. “You’re his stash. Smart.”

  FORTY-THREE

  Lights Out

  Lilya held Kyrie’s hand all the way back from movie night. They’d been treated to back-to-back episodes of Dare Together, with hints that special guests would be arriving the following weekend. Rampant speculation pointed toward a visit from Caleb and Josheb Dare … or any number of the cryptids they were so famous for tracking down.

  It was long past curfew, but the event wasn’t quite over. All the lights had been switched off, making everyone’s trek back to their cabin a final hurdle. Growls and yelps and nervous laughter came from all sides. Older teens in ward colors lofted crystals, while battlers formed ranks around the younger kids in their cabins.

  After all that spooky cryptid footage, every thin howl and slinking shadow took on an aura of menace.

  “They are only teasing,” murmured Kyrie.

  Lilya tightened her grip on his hand. “Can you see?”

  “Quite well. Do you want more light?”

  Tempting as that might be, she shook her head. “That would only expose our location.”

  Kyrie pulled her into the shelter of the shrubs alongside the path. Up on tiptoe, he whispered in her ear. “We should go the long way around.”

  “Danger?” she breathed, placing her hand over his heart. Partly to show she trusted him, partly to see how fast it was beating.

  “They are only teasing,” he repeated. “Trust me.”

  Even though she was taller now, Kyrie was still many times stronger, so he didn’t so much as stagger when Lilya climbed onto his back and tucked up her long legs. Once her arms folded around his shoulders, he carried her away. And with every giddying leap and swerve through the trees, she tried to stifle her giggles.

  “Are we winning?” she whispered.

  “I am good at these games.”

  “Who’s chasing us?”

  “Four dogs, two rabbits, and a monkey,” he reported smugly. Kyrie reached back and touched her hair. “You are especially bright tonight.”

  “Am I?”

  “Did something happen? Something pleasing?” />
  “I hope so.” She prodded his side. “I’ll tell you once we’re under covers.”

  And just like that Kyrie was done playing games. With more speed than he usually displayed, his turned his darting course toward Zisa, neatly setting Lilya on Waaseyaa’s doorstep before his dark hair had time to settle about his shoulders.

  They changed for bed and nestled under the embroidered coverlet in the guest room, Gregor and Rifflet between them.

  “I like this blanket,” whispered Kyrie. “It hums.”

  She thought he might be right. But the tapestry in Glint’s office had been more distinct.

  He found her hand, then found her soul, which took longer than it used to. Papka’s and Argent’s new seal gave him trouble, but Kyrie was Kyrie. Eventually, a low melody thrummed against her senses, and she smiled.

  “It’s like a lullaby,” she whispered.

  “Yes. The sigils are for protection, and the song is a promise. All who sleep here are safe.”

  “Can you tell who made it?”

  Kyrie hesitated. “I will not know for certain unless I touch him, but … Glint Starmark. Probably.”

  “Not Radiance?” Lilya hadn’t expected something so thoroughly beribboned to be the handiwork of an entirely masculine male. No wonder he’d been pleased when she complimented his embroidered tunic.

  “Well?” Her brother squeezed her hand. “Why are you sparkling like star wine?”

  “I want you to be the first person I tell.”

  Kyrie’s voice lilted warmly. “I usually am.”

  “And you are again, but maybe not always.” Lilya needed to acknowledge this out loud. “I’m not sure yet. Things will change.”

  “Change is natural. Not something to fear.”

  Taking a deep breath, Lilya announced, “I chose a husband today.”

  Kyrie took more time than usual to answer, but he was as calm as ever. “A person or a packet?”

  “I wanted a person.”

  He hummed. “I would, too.”

  “I’m going to have Glint make the contract. It can be settled before our birthdays. Twelve is when it begins.” She was feeling rather smug about it. “I’ve outwitted them all.”

  “All …?”

  “Matchmakers, applicants, bidders, prospectives.” She scowled defiantly. “None of them can waste the heralds’ time.”

  Kyrie caught on. “No one can propose to you because you proposed first. That is a fine strategy.”

  “I thought so, too.”

  “The process has always seemed arduous. How did you find someone so quickly?”

  “Luck?”

  Her brother trilled a pleased note. “Are you going to make me guess your choice, or will you tell me for yourself?”

  “It’s my news,” she grumbled. “Don’t listen to tattling winds.”

  “I am listening to you. Tell me who gained your favor.”

  She didn’t think that was the right word. Not in the sense of having a favorite. Or maybe he meant favorable, which was a little like luck. “I chose Tenma-san.”

  “Oh, him.” Kyrie didn’t hesitate to say, “I like him very much.”

  Lilya was relieved to hear it. “Do you think it will work out?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  Kyrie said, “If that is also what he wants, it will work out.”

  “I’m not sure.” Lilya remembered the stunned expression on Tenma’s face and the haste with which he’d excused himself. “He looked like he might say no.”

  Kyrie held Lilya’s hand until he was certain she was deeply asleep. Only then did he slip from the bed in search of his brother. Zisa appeared the moment Kyrie stepped outside and pointed the way. Ginkgo was inside the Kith shelter, lolling between Snow’s front paws as he told her stories about Stately House’s swimming club.

  Ginkgo’s ears pricked. “What’s up, little bro?”

  “I have been thinking.” Kyrie offered his hand to Snow before sitting in the straw. “I would like to be assessed as a reaver.”

  Slinging an arm around his shoulders, Ginkgo said, “This is where I have to point out the obvious. We’re not reavers.”

  “We are half.”

  “Granted.” He pulled his tail around so it lay across both their laps. “So … you want someone outside our family—a neutral party—to assess your reaver half?”

  “Yes.”

  “To what end?”

  Kyrie was used to having to delineate his points clearly and without any trace of a dragon’s sway. “I would like to be ranked. How else will I know if I am improving?”

  “Sure, I’ll buy that.” Ginkgo nudged him. “What else?”

  “I would like an opinion as to my classification.”

  Ginkgo snorted. “It doesn’t take a specialist to figure out you’re a ward.”

  “What if my affinity for sigilcraft is part of my Amaranthine heritage?” Kyrie quietly pointed out, “Lapis is also a crystal adept.”

  “Lapis might speak for the dragon clans, but he’s hardly typical. Take Damsel, for instance. He’s useless with all but the most basic sigils. Remember how Timur took him out?” Ginkgo sketched a sigil in the air and sent it spinning toward the ceiling. “There’s as much diversity within each clan as there is within humanity.”

  “I understand that an assessment would be largely speculative,” Kyrie said slowly. “But that does not mean it would have no value. Assessment could uncover hidden aptitudes, which in turn could direct my studies.”

  Ginkgo searched his face, and his gaze softened. “Glint Starmark has the necessary experience to give an honest reckoning, but I cannot recommend you try him.”

  “Why not?” Kyrie winced at his own sharpness and softly added, “I would like to know why, please.”

  “You probably already know.” Ginkgo’s ears flattened sideways. “Every assessment begins with parentage and pedigree. He would ask all kinds of questions you can’t answer. Questions Dad would consider intrusive. Even forbidden.”

  “Dad will not allow it?”

  With a huff, his brother gruffly said, “He’s protecting more than you and me with his silence.”

  This had occurred to Kyrie as well. “Is he protecting the woman who carried me?”

  Ginkgo’s ears flattened further, then bounced forward in false cheerfulness. “He would if he could, I’m sure”

  A foxy answer. The kind that meant they were dancing close to secrets.

  “I think,” Ginkgo began cautiously. “I think it would be wiser to ask Sinder for an assessment.”

  “Is that one of his jobs?”

  “Not likely, but he could offer an opinion. And he wouldn’t ask all kinds of awkward questions.” Ginkgo’s gaze begged him to understand. To catch what was left unspoken. To hear what he wasn’t allowed to say.

  Kyrie sat up a little straighter. Was it possible? He was almost afraid to ask. “He will not ask the questions because he already knows the answers …?”

  “Probably.”

  “Do you know who my birth parents are?”

  “Of course I do, little bro. I’ve always known.”

  “Will you tell me?”

  Ginkgo smiled and hugged him. “That’s Dad’s right and responsibility.”

  “Will he tell me?”

  “Yeah. He was just saving it up until you were older.”

  Kyrie asked, “Like now?”

  “I’m thinking … yeah. Seems to me this is our proving journey, and when the sons of Argent Mettlebright return home, he’ll have things to say to each of us.”

  He took a slow breath and released it fully. “May I talk to Sinder?”

  Ginkgo looked up. “Mind if I clutter up the place with a dragon? Or should we take our conversation elsewhere?”

  Snow lowered her head to nip Ginkgo’s ear.

  “Right. Sit tight, little bro. I’ll go see if our fair Damsel’s awake.”

  “What if he is sleeping?”

&n
bsp; With a playful tweak to Kyrie’s ear, Ginkgo answered, “I’ll wake him with a kiss, of course!”

  FORTY-FOUR

  Set Straight

  Ginkgo closed the shelter door and lifted his nose to the night wind, hoping to catch a whiff of spikenard. There were a lot of places Sinder might be. Including away.

  With no warning whatsoever, arms slid around Ginkgo from behind, and Zisa nuzzled his shoulder.

  “You’re a regular ninja,” Ginkgo accused.

  The tree petted his ear. “Did you forget I am here?”

  “Would I do something that silly?”

  “You are sometimes silly. Usually with the children.” Zisa quietly added, “Thank you for not treating me like a child.”

  That took him aback. “Zisa, you’re old as ages.”

  “I am younger than most of the people I know. And people call me … simple.”

  “That’s hardly a bad thing.” Ginkgo turned in the tree’s embrace to study his expression.

  “They are not complimenting me.”

  “Do you want to be complimented?”

  Zisa brightened. “Yes, please.”

  Ginkgo rubbed their noses together. “Your kindnesses are uncomplicated, and if your flowers are sweet, it is because your nature is doubly so. Your strength resonates through both halves of my soul, which makes me want to linger in your shadow. And your generosity is steadily turning me into a glutton. I can’t help wanting more.”

  Wonderment widened Zisa’s eyes. “Are you teasing?”

  “Every word is true.”

  “You are good at compliments.”

  Ginkgo grinned. “I’ve learned a thing or two from wolvish ballads.”

  Zisa looked heartbreakingly hopeful. “Do you love me?”

  “Are you surprised?”

  The tree stole a kiss.

  Ginkgo let him.

  “People usually work harder to resist me,” said Zisa. “You do not even try.”

  “You and I have something in common. I love the attention.” Ginkgo rubbed their cheeks together. “Zisa, you have become my home away from home.”