Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga Book 4)

by Forthright

  Lowering his gaze, he went back to what he knew. Holding a position.

  “Lovely,” declared Radiance, which meant it was safe.

  “We are,” agreed Zisa. “I helped.”

  That was so like him, heedless of ceremony, quick to greet a newcomer.

  He and Radiance stepped aside, parting like a curtain to reveal a young woman. She was the same height as Zisa, though with a much more curvaceous aspect. Her feet were fair against the springing mosses, and when she stepped toward him, bells jingled anew.

  There they were. Golden bells gleamed softly against light brown hair, so like Zisa’s. The similarities could not be a coincidence. Mikoto probably should have put more thought into his first words, but he blurted, “She looks like you.”

  “We made a pact,” Zisa announced proudly.

  Waaseyaa hurried forward. “Brother, what have you done?”

  “I have become her brother!” The tree caught his twin’s hand. “That way, she has more than nothing and the best of everything. Us as a family. And Mikoto for a groom.”

  Mikoto marveled at Zisa’s foresight. “You are always so generous,” he said. “Thank you, Zisa.”

  Slipping from his brother’s arms, Zisa twined around Mikoto. “I have a sister!”

  “She will rely on you greatly.”

  “And visit often.” With a blissful smile, Zisa said, “You may call me Brother.”

  Laughter broke out, and everyone had relaxed into indulgent smiles.

  Zisa turned him loose and whispered, “Go.”

  Mikoto stepped forward and looked into green-gold eyes and liked the familiarity. This might be their first proper meeting, but she wasn’t a stranger. Not really.

  “Hello, Tzefira.”

  She tipped her head, and bells tinkled. Yet she didn’t speak.

  Suddenly, Kyrie hurried over, catching Mikoto’s sleeve. But his gaze was fixed on Tzefira’s face. “Are you like a star? Do you also have a voice intended for the skies?”

  Tzefira tapped the boy’s nose, then sought Mikoto’s gaze, touching a finger to her lips.

  His brows shot up before he could school his expression, which may have been rude.

  She winked solemnly. At least there were no hard feelings.

  Kyrie tugged at Mikoto and explained, “You will need to be touching if you want to hear her voice.”

  Startled by this development, Mikoto offered his palms in the usual way.

  When their fingertips met, he thought he caught a whisper, but it was too faint. So he clasped her hands securely, and furrowed his brows in concentration.

  All that came through was a laugh. But it meant there was a connection. And she sounded happy.

  Mikoto’s own happiness spilled over, more inwardly than outwardly, and Tzefira swayed into him. Reaching up with both hands, she pulled him into a kiss.

  “Mikoto.” Her voice was light and teasing as the breezes that had always tugged for attention. “Does my voice reach you now?”

  He managed a small grunt.

  She laughed again, then repeated his name in reverent tones.

  Would pulling away be like refusing to listen? He didn’t want to be rude. There were probably lots of things they should talk about, but words were quickly fading in importance. She was all soft curves and familiar scents. There was silk and the sound of bells, and the swirl of her tongue against his.

  Mikoto hadn’t meant to tend her, not specifically.

  He was willing enough. Maybe even eager, because she wasn’t like anyone else he’d ever touched. The Amaranthine were deep and dense, a darkness that craved his light. But she was luminous, with a sparkle that slipped in and suffused his mind.

  “More,” she sighed into his thoughts. “Oh, lovely one … more.”

  A throat cleared, and hands closed around Mikoto’s shoulders. “That will do for now, my boy.” Glint’s smile was sympathetic. “I take it she is willing to have you?”

  Radiance, who had Tzefira by the shoulders, sported a decidedly rakish grin. “And have him you shall, you brave and beautiful breeze. But there’s your bridal attire to arrange, and your lovely boy has dignitaries to greet and a wedding announcement to make.”

  Jostling him slightly, Glint asked, “What did she say?”

  As if their kiss had been nothing more than a conversation. Mikoto wasn’t sure he wanted to attempt an explanation, so he chose the simplest answer. “Yes …?”

  “You sound uncertain,” Radiance said lightly. “Did you need more time to … talk?”

  Mikoto blushed, but Tzefira’s gaze was as steady as her hand over his heart.

  “You are willing?”

  He covered her hand. “I am willing.”

  With an impish smile, she ordered, “Bend.”

  “Like this?” he mumbled, bowing at the waist.

  Her hand slipped into his hair, and her lips pressed his forehead. “Lovely one, you are mine.”

  “Oh, that’s done it.” Radiance actually giggled. “I wonder if it will show up on camera?”

  Glint turned Mikoto’s face, studied his forehead, and huffed.

  Someone—Mikoto was fairly certain it was Ginkgo—gave a piercing whistle and started off a round of applause. There was much stomping of feet, and everyone wanted to ogle him and meet Tzefira. Amaranthine introductions being what they were, Radiance slid into the role of mistress of ceremonies.

  Mikoto watched from the sidelines, relieved that his friends and family did all the talking. Tzefira didn’t seem inclined to kiss anyone else.

  “Brings back memories,” murmured Glint.

  “Do we need a contract?” checked Mikoto.

  Signaling to someone, Glint gruffly said, “Nothing like that. The contract between you two has been made, accepted, and sealed. You are hers. She is yours. May your household flourish.”

  Yulin came alongside and touched Mikoto’s elbow. “Rather than a contract, you shall have a chronicle. I hope I can do justice to the day.”

  Mikoto mumbled something grateful, though he lost track of the sentence midway through. The Five had come to surround him—Starmark, Fullstash, Duntuffet, Alpenglow, and Dimityblest. On every side, they gazed at him with universal satisfaction.

  “Is it really that strange?” he managed.

  “We need a mirror,” remarked Hannick.

  Salali snapped his fingers. “Ginkgo. Your phone?”

  The half-fox bounded over and produced the device. Snapping a picture, he studied his phone’s screen, and eyed it critically before handing it off. “It’s prettier in person.”

  In the photograph, Mikoto’s eyes were as wide as a first-time camper’s fresh off the bus. And in the center of his forehead was a mark. Not quite a sigil. It seemed to be more decorative.

  “The colors keep shifting and changing,” said Ginkgo. “Betcha Tenma calls it prismatic.”

  “Is it a blaze?”

  Glint took his arm and cleared his throat. “Radiance would call it a miracle.”

  Mikoto smiled at that. It was her pat answer whenever anyone asked her about the star that marked her forehead.

  “My boy, do you understand what this means?”

  “He doesn’t,” said Salali. “Who wants to tell him?”

  “Choose me!” Zisa wiggled into their midst and flung his arms around Mikoto’s shoulders. Just like always. “I am his brother-in-law, so it should be me.”

  All five yielded with smiles.

  “What do you wish to tell me, Brother?”

  For once Zisa didn’t fritter around the edges. “Waaseyaa has my blessing. You have Tzefira’s. Which is different, but the same. Are you glad? Glint is.”

  Mikoto scanned the group. Hannick was thumping Glint’s shoulder. Bram Duntuffet and Salali were laughing against each other’s shoulders, as if to hold each other up. What was so funny?

  Waaseyaa eased to Mikoto’s side, slipping his arms around his waist and hugging him with more emotion than he usually showed.

&nb
sp; “Uncle?”

  “I live on because I have the benefit of a tree’s blessing.” Waaseyaa laughed in a way that made him seem much younger. “Mikoto, brother of my brother, you have a wind’s blessing. It means you will live.”

  Then Glint was grappling all three of them in a spine-bending hug and doing a poor job of hiding his sniffles.

  Yulin lent his support, one hand firm at Mikoto’s back. “As you are aware, noble heart, Glint has never liked letting go. And you have spared him the necessity.”

  Mikoto could only be boggled, so he settled for a nod. And hoped they’d let him return to Tzefira soon.

  “Well, boys! Guess we’ll have to train him up right, since he’s the only one we’ll ever need.” Salali tipped his hat. “Mikoto Reaver, Eternal Headman.”

  FIFTY-NINE

  Unions and Reunions

  Tenma prodded at his ice cream, lost in thought.

  “She’ll be here any second.” Ginkgo waved a spoon loaded with mint chocolate chip ice cream. “What’s got you so morose?”

  “I am twenty-six years old.”

  “So?”

  “I am twenty-six years old, and this is my first date.” Gesturing between them with his own spoon, Tenma said, “A chaperoned date with an eleven-year-old girl.”

  Ginkgo snickered. “I’m going to hire us a Dimityblest chronicler while we’re here. And those very words will begin the history of your dynasty.”

  Tenma shook his head. “She wants to add to Michael’s dynasty. Give the moth to him.”

  Lilya arrived a few minutes later, arm linked through Kyrie’s.

  The brothers Mettlebright went to get more ice cream, blatantly giving Tenma a few minutes to speak with Lilya.

  “Are you very sure about this?” he ventured.

  The girl fixed him with a look that reminded him very much of Isla. “Yes.”

  “Wanting something similar doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll find it in each other.”

  “Not similar,” she countered. “Same.”

  “And there’s the difference in our ages.” He’d promised to address every possible hindrance. Surely, it was his responsibility.

  Lilya said, “I’ll grow.”

  He let his head hang. “But your parents might not like it.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s … hard to explain.”

  Stretching across the table to touch his hand, she asked, “Will Papka and Mum have good reasons? Because I think everything will work out.”

  Ginkgo returned tail swaying, and Kyrie followed, carrying dishes for himself and for Lilya.

  Ignoring them, Lilya pressed, “Don’t you?”

  Tenma would be honest. “I would love to call Stately House home, but it’s hard to picture you as my wife, Lilya-chan. You’re so young. It’s too soon.”

  Ginkgo nodded approvingly. “That’s a proper attitude. Plenty of time for that later.”

  “I like having things settled,” said Lilya. “Nobody will worry about my future because you’ll be waiting.”

  “What if you change your mind?”

  She stared at him again. There wasn’t any hostility there, but her next words were a blunt force. “Do you take promises that lightly?”

  “No!” he gasped. “But ….”

  Tenma found that he couldn’t voice any further protests. He’d only wanted to give her a chance to reconsider, but anything more would be an insult, both to her and to the wish they shared.

  “I will not shy away from this choice if it’s allowed to me.” Tenma sat straighter and placed his hands on the table. “You have my promise now, before others call for vows. I accept, Lilya-chan.”

  With a straightforwardness he was growing to appreciate, she said, “Right. We’re set, then.”

  And conversation moved on to the impending arrival of Harmonious Starmark.

  However, when the time came for Ginkgo and Kyrie to clear away evidence of their midnight raid on the kitchen, Lilya tapped Tenma’s arm and said, “I did think of one thing. I’m not sure if it will be a problem.”

  “Yes?”

  “Looking him up and down, she eased closer to whisper, “I’ll grow.”

  Tenma could only agree.

  Lilya bluntly announced, “I’ll probably be taller than you.”

  Once again, Tenma could only agree. He was still laughing when Ginkgo and Kyrie returned.

  Ginkgo wasn’t sure he’d ever had more fun than keeping Dad posted with texted asides about Lilya’s impending betrothal. True, he loved the gossip. But some of the elation was knowing that Dad was safe enough to be snide.

  Ribbons for days

  Do not dismiss them lightly

  He pioneered embroidered sigilcraft

  Gonna start adding them to my work shirts?

  So you had not noticed?

  NOW who is amused?

  “Apologies for denying you rest.” At four in the morning on Dichotomy Day, Glint greeted them at his back door in formal attire. Flapping a hand Yulin’s way, he explained, “Every minute of my day has been scheduled.”

  “Thank you for making time,” said Lapis.

  Lilya said, “More importantly, look who’s here!”

  Our girl is putting Ever ahead of marriage

  I see no issue with her priorities

  Or have you forgotten that she is a child?

  How can I forget?

  Tenma languishes a *little* less over the age difference

  It might be amusing to mention

  the years between Tsumiko and me

  Are you trying to encourage him?

  Let us say that I am willing to indulge Lilya

  Nice out

  Have you progressed past sniffening?

  Almost

  Dogs

  Ginkgo surveyed a receiving room that would probably see dozens of couples over the course of the summer. Banners emblazoned with the Starmark crest decorated the walls, and the drapings on the table also shimmered with copper.

  The central table was a large square, with seats on either end for those scheduled to sign contracts. Glint presided between them, presumably to bear witness to the vows and to add his seal to the attendant paperwork.

  Yulin and a small group of moths fluttered about narrow tables along the room’s edges, straightening already-tidy piles of paperwork.

  On the groom’s side of the table, Tenma sat between Harmonious and Lapis.

  “An honorary Starmark, you say?” asked Glint, peering at Tenma with new appreciation. “But Lord Mossberne, are you not Lilya’s go-between?”

  Lapis tucked his arm through Tenma’s. “This boy is my apprentice. And Miss Lilya has enough support.”

  On the opposite side of the table, Lilya hugged Kyrie and Ever to her sides.

  Snapping a couple of pictures, Ginkgo sent them together.

  There is a certain symmetry

  Each with a dog and a dragon

  I don’t dare point it out

  But doesn’t it mean they’re kind of perfect for each other?

  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?”