“Is that what this is?” inquired a new voice, all intrigued innocence. “Entrapment. But which one of you is trapping the other? And may I join?”
SEVENTEEN
Mathematically Impossible
With the confusion of unloading happening all along the circle, Noble was safer back in Mikoto’s pocket. He kept a hand on the pup, fondling one perked ear as he strolled along the edge of activity.
Wardenclave’s citizens mingled with the crowd, greeting returnees and guiding newcomers. Mikoto’s sisters barely acknowledged him, their fleeting glances holding little more than exasperation. Reprimanding him for arriving late. Reminding him that his pain was theirs, and then some. Hadn’t they known Father better, loved him longer?
Shame seeped into the set of his shoulders.
A firm grip at Mikoto’s elbow halted his progress, and he raised his gaze. Resplendence Starmark searched his face, firmed her grip slightly, and murmured, “Well met.”
As she moved off, Mikoto was jostled on his other side by Reena Duntuffet, who cuffed his shoulder and winked before hurrying forward to heft a young girl’s travel cases.
His people. His friends.
Hannick Alpenglow patted his cheek in passing. “Someone’s trying to get your attention.”
Like the sudden pivot that can throw an opponent off balance, Mikoto’s perspective shifted off himself. Familiar faces dominated the crowd. Many turned his way with grins, waves, and greetings. Chin bobs and hand signs from other battlers. Friendly remarks upon his increasing height. Teasing remarks about his tiny companion.
Mikoto found he was glad to see them back.
He began offering the same kinds of assurances he’d received. Touching an elbow. Clapping a shoulder. He spoke the names of those he knew and offered his name to new kids. As he patiently worked his way along, he felt fresh stirrings of certainty.
She was here.
Even though he couldn’t explain it—not that he’d ever try—Mikoto always knew when Lupe was near. The pull that made his heart leap. The scent of summer that left him giddy. The way she always knew when to turn, where to look. Like she was as aware of him as he was of her.
But it was really quite hard to impress a girl who sees you as a little brother.
Mikoto worked hard, trained hard, tried hard. Wanting her to notice the man he was becoming. Catching up with something other than years.
Four years was an epoch for young reavers.
On her last year at camp, instead of flying home at summer’s end, Lupe had journeyed to a port city with Priska, boarded a ship, and sailed to some far-off island where a new husband waited. She’d been eighteen, going on nineteen. He’d been fourteen and tongue-tied and inconsolable.
His only tiny sliver of hope was that they weren’t a good match. Maybe Lupe would do her duty to the In-between and leave her island husband behind, making a second marriage possible.
Mikoto had done the math a thousand times over. Enough to understand the mathematical impossibility of grasping at that particular straw. To give Lupe time to fulfill her progeny quota, he’d have to figure out a way to stay single until he was twenty-seven. At least.
Glint might accept the plan. Well, maybe. If Mikoto could get Radiance to back him.
But deep down, Mikoto knew his plan was doomed. Lupe was so warm and accepting. She’d give her contract husband every chance to win her heart. And love him back with all of hers. That’s just the kind of person she’d always been.
Mikoto still wanted to find a way of telling her how he felt, even though it would probably come to nothing. If she was safe and happy without him, he’d let Glint choose a bride with a good bloodline and secure Wardenclave’s future.
It dawned on him then that in all his years of clinging to an impossible wish, he’d never once considered leaving Wardenclave. Not even for Lupe. Did that mean he didn’t love her enough? Maybe. And maybe that didn’t matter anymore. The decision was out of his hands. It always had been.
But if Lupe was even the littlest bit unhappy, he’d give her an alternative.
A whisper of wind flirted around his ankles and tugged at his hair, carrying a sense of summer’s sweetness, drawing his attention to the second-to-last bus in the long line-up. It was always like this. The knowing part. He could always find her. As if they’d forged a connection eight years ago, and they shared it still.
He lengthened his strides.
She stood a little away from those mingling beside the bus, smiling skyward. A breeze caught her long, black hair and flipped the airy fabric of her skirt. Vastly different from standard reaver attire, but maybe they did things differently on whatever island Priska had chosen for her. It was pretty.
As he neared, she laughed lightly and turned his way, smiling as she tucked flyaway hair behind her ear. Lupe Navarro wasn’t very tall; he’d surpassed her height when he was only eleven. She was all confident sweetness and crooked smiles. Bold with colors. Deft with crystals. Crazy about dancing.
Lupe was a reach. Reavers of their order acted almost like a tuned crystal, able to hone in on a location, so long as they had something or someone to reach for. They were prized as navigators, but it was said that reaches of the highest order could find their way into the thoughts of an Amaranthine with whom they shared close ties. Like telepathy. Or something.
“You’re here,” Lupe said.
Mikoto thought she sounded glad of it. “You are back.”
She dimpled and accused, “You’ve changed.”
Not fast enough. Wishing he could think of something clever to say, he mumbled, “You have not.”
Lupe’s brows arched over laughing eyes. “You’re kidding.”
“He is blind,” cut in a sharper voice. Priska Runefarer casually balanced a trunk on one shoulder. Her pale blue hair was its usual mess of choppy waves, and her lip curled to reveal a dainty fang.
Mikoto gestured politely. “Wardenclave welcomes you.”
Priska frowned, but her tone moderated. “You do your father proud.”
“We’re sorry for your loss.” Lupe’s eyes shimmered with sympathy. “Is there anything we can do?”
He didn’t want this. Not even from her. Pasting on a smile, he slid into his role as headman. It was easier this way. “Hana will be so glad for your company. You should come by the house later. Once you are settled.”
Empty words.
Expected courtesies.
“Do you remember the way?” he asked.
Priska snorted. “I’ve been trawling these waters for more centuries than you have years.” With a scowl, she took Lupe’s arm and guided her away toward the cabins set aside for instructors and recruiters.
Mikoto let them go with nothing more than an awkward wave.
He knew how to fall and how to fight, but there had been no fending off the blow Lupe delivered. Turning on his heel, he stumbled off the path and into the woods, desperate to be alone before coming to terms with three things he hadn’t expected.
Despite Priska’s snide remark, Mikoto wasn’t blind.
He could see that Lupe was abundantly happy. He knew the significance of the ornamental sigil decorating her brow. And he understood the meaning of the curves Lupe’s dress didn’t quite hide. She was going to be a mother.