Mikoto and the Reaver Village (Amaranthine Saga Book 4)

by Forthright

  “I do want to choose for myself.”

  “When the time comes, you’ll get your way.” He smiled toward the sky. “You have many people who will make sure of it.”

  She knew he was right. Papka and Mum would back her choice. Uncle Argent had pull, and Hisoka-sensei could make anything happen. She’d have all the help she needed. “How are you going to pick?”

  “I have no idea,” he admitted. “Favorable circumstances. Willingness on both sides.”

  “So you’ll tell her your secret and see if hers matches?”

  “That might work.” He quietly added, “Assuming there’s no language barrier.”

  Lilya’s steps lagged and she studied her feet. She’d thought it would be easy, picking a husband before the flood of contracts began. But she hadn’t considered that her someday husband might have a secret wish. Her cheeks heated with shame.

  “You okay, Lilya-chan?”

  “I forgot to consider my future husband’s feelings.”

  Tenma nodded. “That’s important. Did you already have someone in mind?”

  “No.” She sheepishly admitted, “I think anybody would say yes because I’m a beacon, but I don’t want that to be the reason someone says yes.”

  “Isn’t that why you’re here?” Tenma waved toward the camp. “It’s a good place to meet peers. You have time to figure out who you can get along with.”

  She didn’t have that kind of time. “I might not be back.”

  Tenma stopped, glanced about, and indicated a bench. Once they were seated, he said, “Keep it simple. What do you want most?”

  “You first.” Maybe it would help if she had an example.

  He pushed absently at his glasses, then nodded. “When I was your age, I was lonely, but I didn’t understand why until Harmonious Starmark added me to his pack. Suddenly, I was learning Amaranthine ways. All the little tender touches. And the wordless ways they find to show the depths of their trust and affection. I don’t want to give that up.”

  She wasn’t sure if it was boasting, so she held her tongue. But she’d grown up with all those things, surrounded by Stately House’s crossers.

  “I used to think that I wanted to be happy. But it turns out, that isn’t a very good wish.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m already happy.” Tenma’s eyes were sparkling. “When I realized that, I had to edit my wish.”

  “You changed your mind about what you wanted?”

  “Mm … no. I think it’s more that I understand myself better.” He tapped his heart. “I want to share my happiness. I want more than progeny. I want a family. A wife who’s glad she chose me. Children who know what its like to tangle or nestle or coil. I want to teach them clan ways so I can say I love them with the set of my shoulders or the flick of a finger. I want to give them reasons to be happy.”

  He rambled to a stop and looked away. It was funny how secrets—even good ones—could be embarrassing. Lilya touched his elbow, and some of the tension eased from his shoulders.

  “I like it,” she said.

  Tenma sighed. “I think I have a chance. Maybe in an enclave.”

  Lilya jumped to her feet and stood before him. “I like it,” she repeated. “I’ll make that my wish, too. I want my children to grow up at Stately House.”

  “That’s an important decision,” said Tenma. “It will help Glint refine his search.”

  “I’ve made another decision.” The words weren’t hard to say. They blurted right out. “I know what I want most.”

  Tenma tipped his head to one side, looking more closely. “You’re much better at big decisions than I am. What is it you want, Lilya-chan?”

  “You, of course.”

  FORTY-ONE

  Bygones

  Ginkgo slipped inside the Kith shelter and dropped onto the straw at the white dog’s side. “He’s trying to kill me. Or at least humble me.” Flinging his arms wide, he let himself go limp. “Behold, I have been humbled to the very dust.”

  She snuffled his neck and nuzzled his ear.

  “That Salali.” Ginkgo blindly reached for the dog and petted. “Does anybody realize how amazing he is? Because the things he does aren’t just next level. They’re on par with miracles.”

  She shuffled closer, trapping him between her forelegs.

  He felt safe and relaxed further. “Heaven help me, I need a nap.”

  It felt so good to rest his eyes after spending half the night studying interlocking sigilcraft and the other half trailing Goh Impleer. The monkey clansman had apparently taken Sinder’s place tormenting that allotment of young battlers. Salali made certain he and Ginkgo remained undetected.

  Observation, he called it.

  Stealing tricks, more like.

  “Monkey clans are all risks and rigamarole. Goh pulled tricks I’ve never seen, let alone imagined.” Ginkgo curled onto his side. “His nonsense works, but I don’t know why. And it’s going to drive me crazy until I figure it out.”

  The dog licked him.

  Even as he burrowed closer, Ginkgo reminded himself that he shouldn’t be zoning out. “Need to tell Waaseyaa. Supposed to be the one … bring Gregor next time.”

  “You should ask him.”

  Ginkgo’s head snapped up.

  “Goh Impleer is a teacher at heart. If you want to know something, ask for a lesson.”

  He sat up and slumped into the white dog’s chest. “Well, hey. I was hoping someone would show up to make introductions. Figures it’d be you, Lady Starmark.”

  Radiance’s posture was all dominance, but her smile offered nothing but welcome. “It’s nice to put a face to the scent, young Master Mettlebright.”

  “Ginkgo,” he corrected.

  “And you shall call me Radiance.” Brows rising, she asked, “Is Kyrie to blame for your arrival in Snow’s domain?”

  Snow, was it? He reached up to give the dog a friendly scratch. “Salali changed my security clearance, and that brought this place to my attention. Not surprised to hear that little bro found it first, though. Barriers are no match for him.”

  With a sharp look at Snow, Radiance asked, “Is this a common trait of all dragons?”

  “Nope, not at all.” Recalling Salali’s hopes for him, Ginkgo suggested, “Could be an upshot of having both Amaranthine and reaver blood.”

  “So crossers make excellent cat burglars?”

  “The heists we could pull,” Ginkgo joked. “But seriously, let’s not give Kyrie any ideas.”

  “He’s a good boy. A tribute to Argent’s care. And yours.” Radiance arched a quizzical brow. “Although I really must ask why you’ve decided to ignore boundaries.”

  Ginkgo looked up, trying to catch Snow’s eye. “Is she complaining?”

  “Usually. But not about you in particular.” Radiance remained where she was, studying the two of them as if trying to unravel a mystery. Finally, she said, “I wouldn’t have expected her to tolerate a fox.”

  “You’ve got fox issues?” Ginkgo was wide awake, now. This was one of the topics on Dad’s information-gathering wish list.

  “Historically.” Radiance seemed to be listening. Probably to Snow. “Feud would be too strong a term, but Wardenclave had some trouble with foxes at the very beginning. Linlu’s ink was barely dry on the charter when a trio of hungry foxes attempted a raid.”

  Ginkgo had heard similar stories from Dad. “With an appetite for reaver souls.”

  “Yes.” Radiance’s lip curled. “Glint helped Gerard Reaver and his people drive them off, which gave Salali time to reinforce the barriers. But not before a life was lost.”

  “You lost someone?”

  “Not personally. This was before my time. Nor anyone from Wardenclave.” Radiance’s expression grew troubled. “One of the foxes caught the full brunt of a battler’s fury. When his sisters retreated, they dragged his body away with them.”

  “Wardenclave’s people defended themselves.”

  Radiance inclined
her head. “Times have changed, and bygones are bygones.”

  “Except?”

  “Salali warded against foxes for more than a millennium.” She quietly admitted, “Up until a scant century ago, when Hisoka Twineshaft came with his hopes for greater cooperation between the clans.”

  Ginkgo said, “Seems a long time to hold a grudge against foxes.”

  “Turn that statement around in your thoughts, young Master Mettlebright.” Radiance’s chin lifted. “Those foxes have long held a grudge against Wardenclave.”

  “You got proof of this?”

  “Against foxes?” She laughed mirthlessly. “They smile and say all the right things. But they delight in dropping hints that all is not forgiven nor forgotten.”

  “And you can’t keep them out?”

  Radiance smirked Snow’s way. “Our security team knows its business, and upon my eldest son’s recommendation, Salali refined his wards. That was eleven years ago.”

  Ginkgo ran through all the things that’d happened eleven years ago. Tsumiko’s arrival. Kyrie’s birth, close on the heels of Lilya’s. Dad’s freedom, at long last. And his appointment to the Five. Replacing … oh, boy.

  “Two sisters,” he said warily. “Which clan?”

  With a grim smile, Radiance answered, “Hightip.”

  Ginkgo was still composing a report to Dad when Tenma stumbled through Waaseyaa’s kitchen door and sagged to his knees beside Ginkgo’s chair.

  “Classes done for the day?” Ginkgo asked with a glance out the window. It was too early. Pushing back his chair, he crouched beside Tenma and grabbed his shoulders. “What happened? Is it one of the kids?”

  “Safe,” he gasped. “They’re fine.”

  Tenma’s heart was pounding, and his scent was a far cry from his usual calm. Ginkgo chaffed his arms and grumbled, “Get ahold of yourself and tell me what’s going on.”

  His confusion only mounted when tears sprang to the man’s eyes and he begged, “Kill me quick. You’ll be kind about it, at least.”

  Ginkgo couldn’t help laughing. “Who in their right mind would dare raise their hand against a packmate of Harmonious Starmark, let alone the almost-bride of Lapis Mossberne.”

  “Sansa-san, for one. Isla, I think.” With a cringing posture, he whispered, “Maybe even you.”

  “Back up. Start over. Shouldn’t you be up to your elbows in clay right about now?”

  “I begged off. Goh-sensei realized I wouldn’t be any help today.”

  Ginkgo tried to pull Tenma to his feet, but the man lowered himself further, kowtowing dragon-style. With the beginnings of genuine concern, Ginkgo demanded, “Who did this to you?”

  “Lilya-chan.”

  Impossible. “She’s just a kid.”

  Tenma curled into an even tighter knot of distress and whimpered, “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he chanted.

  Ginkgo couldn’t understand what had gotten into Tenma. Neither could he ignore what was obviously a plea for help. He hauled Tenma into his arms and carried him to the guest room, a clumsy task since the man was easily head-and-shoulders taller than Ginkgo.

  Depositing Tenma on the bed, Ginkgo jumped up beside him, hauling the man into his arms. “Hey, hey, hey, now. Want me to get Eloquence on the phone? Hanoo? Lapis? Dad?”

  Tenma groaned.

  Ginkgo wasn’t getting anywhere. “Show me your hand.”

  He surrendered both, palms pleading.

  Tracing a sigil that made secrets safe, he said, “Nobody but us. You and me, okay? Now, what happened with Lilya?”

  “She asked me why I’m not married yet. She wanted to know my wish for the future.” Tenma hid his face against Ginkgo’s shirt, so his words were all muffled. “I’m a teacher here. I thought it was one of those … those teaching moments.”

  “You’ve always been patient with folks. A good listener.”

  Tenma raised his head. “She’s eleven.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “She’s even younger than Isla was, and Isla was practically a baby!”

  Ginkgo snorted. “Be glad Isla didn’t hear you say that.”

  Tenma laughed a little, relaxed a little.

  “Out with it, Tenma.”

  “She proposed.”

  Ginkgo was stumped. “Lilya has a crush on you?”

  Tenma slowly shook his head. “This wasn’t that. Not a blushing girl making her first confession. This was a calm, calculated bid. She’s going to have Glint work up a contract.”

  “And you came to me … why?”

  “Talk some sense into her!”

  “Oh, I’ll talk to her,” promised Ginkgo. His mind was racing, and he kept coming around to the same conclusion. “So … you’re turning her down?”

  “Of course!”

  “What’s your reason?”

  “She’s eleven.”

  “Age difference. That’s all you’ve got?”

  Tenma gaped at him, glasses askew.

  “For an uncertain entity like you, it’s not a bad deal, landing a beacon bride. Your future home would be in a secure location. Most of the household is conversant in Japanese. And the amenities are top notch—beachfront property, onsen baths, and a live-in nanny. That’d be me.”

  “The age gap. It’s nearly fifteen years.”

  “That works in your favor. A young wife will boost your progeny projections.”

  Tenma shook his head. “Why are you even considering this?”

  “Because I think Dad would approve. Put bluntly, you’d be a strategic acquisition for Stately House. And Glint’ll probably be giddy, matching the Amaranthine Messiah with a girl whose birth established a dynasty.”

  Tenma rested his head on Ginkgo’s shoulder. “You really think they’d allow it?”

  “You really expected bloodshed?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not going to kill you for putting your signature on a contract. And I’m not going to criticize Lilya’s choice until I hear her reasoning. Realistically, you’d stick to your itinerary and come back when she’s sixteen or seventeen. Do the whole courtship thing, then.”

  “W-we’d be family?”

  “You and me? Sure. Along with a few dozen crossers, a partial herd of horses, a sedge of cranes, a nest of mice, one honeybee, two grumpy bear brothers, our French butler, and several members of the Amaranthine Council. Yay, verily, our Kith shelter runneth over, and we’re always expanding.” Ginkgo gently reminded, “Once he’s back safe, Inti will also be calling Stately House home.”

  After a long silence, Tenma admitted, “Sounds too good to be true.”

  “What was that future wish you shared with Lilya? What do you truly, actually, honestly want?”

  He whispered, “This. All of it.”

  “Even the eleven-year-old girl who proposes to give it to you?”

  Tenma’s words were like a vow. “If she is resolved, I will devote myself to her happiness.”

  Borrowing from the wisdom of cranes, Ginkgo asked, “Can such generosity lead to anything but joy?”

  FORTY-TWO

  Smart Cat

  Sinder was accustomed to getting his way. Every dragon was. But it was pointless trying to sway Timur and Torloo. Only when Sinder lost his temper did they bend, but his triumph left him feeling like a petulant child. They were obviously humoring him, because Torloo had lowered the stakes so far, Sinder and the rookies weren’t doing anything more menacing than playing tag in the forest.

  Well, to be fair, it was tag with traps.

  Trapping an intelligent person wasn’t the same as outwitting a dumb beast, especially one on their guard. To keep things interesting, he’d worked in several traps of his own. If the four winds favored him, Michaelson would fall for one.

  It made an amusing daydream, but Sinder wasn’t holding his breath.

  Timur of the illustrious Order of Spomenka was undoubtedly wise to a dragon’s ways. T
hey preserved knowledge and techniques that were supposed to be lost to time. Sinder knew for a fact that dragons from the heights had been tasked with the monumental chore of snuffing out any songs or fables that mentioned the tricks of the dragon slayer’s trade. In the tales that remained, knights were praised for their bravery upon setting off and showered with glories upon their return. How they’d succeeded wasn’t a matter of record.

  Humans should have been no match for dragons, who were larger, fiercer, and stronger than any other predator. Yet every dragon was driven by three instincts—to fill a harem, to reach the sky, and to move with the seasons.

  All dragonkind embraced a migratory existence, and it was the predictability of those courses that had led to their near demise. Learn the patterns. Lay the traps.

  Of course, urges could be curtailed. Or more often, channeled.

  Ancient dragon dwellings were sprawling affairs, invariably cross-shaped. Lords moved their entire household from one wing to the next with the turning of the seasons. And in more modest, modern harems, lords maintained four bedchambers, one for each bride—east, south, west, and north.

  Sinder understood the pull. He kept his sanity by rearranging the furniture. Juuyu never minded. It gave him an excuse to clean. Maybe it was team building. Maybe it was group therapy.

  Dragons were isolationists, obsessively secretive about their idiosyncrasies, now more than ever. Sinder understood that, too. Their traditions were already remarked upon, even criticized. The lords were reluctant to expose their culture, opening the way for mockery, speculation, psychoanalysis, or future attacks.

  Which were a real possibility, thanks to the rogue.

  Because that dragon wasn’t immune to the pull of instinct.

  The women he stole were stashed in makeshift harems. Many profilers believed he was after progeny, a frustrated male who’d refined his techniques once he realized he could only impregnate females of reaver descent.

  A noteworthy discovery, to be sure. Lapis Mossberne was especially interested in that particular point, but Sinder was skeptical. If the rogue wanted his children, wouldn’t he show more interest in gathering them up? Yes, some infants had gone missing, but those disappearances didn’t correlate with the reports of fresh kidnappings and killings.