Beautiful.
Achingly, flawlessly beautiful.
Until Kyrie’s questing fingers snagged upon a rough patch. Something had rubbed Sinder raw, marring his opalescent perfection. Kyrie hastened to Sinder’s other side, standing ankle-deep in the lake in order to inspect his opposite flank.
Long scratches. Deep punctures. Trembling muscles.
“Please,” Kyrie quavered, reached urgently for Timur. “Please, hurry. Please, help.”
“I will,” Timur answered absently. He was rummaging through the contents of the crate. “I will, and you’ll help me. We’ll help him together, yes?”
Ginkgo flicked Kyrie’s ear then. A sharp reprimand. “Mind your words, little bro.”
Kyrie clamped both hands over his mouth. Mortification set in. He hadn’t meant to try to sway Timur.
“Hey, now,” Ginkgo gruffly chided. “I’m glad you care so much about Damsel. Enough to forget yourself. It’s not like you, but in a good way. You know?”
No, no. There was no excuse. Kyrie knew better.
“Are you even listening?” Ginkgo gently eased Kyrie’s hands away from his mouth. “Be more careful with your words, but don’t take them back. All I’ll ask is that you take responsibility.”
Kyrie followed his brother’s gaze to Mikoto Reaver, who hovered uncertainly at the water’s edge.
“What can I do to help?” asked Wardenclave’s headman.
He’d influenced someone. Shame burned in Kyrie’s eyes as he offered his hands. “I apologize,” he whispered. “Please, forgive me?”
“For what?”
Mikoto’s confusion only made it worse.
Ginkgo jumped in. “Seems you’re susceptible to half-dragons, as well.”
Sloshing back onto shore, Kyrie confessed, “I was careless with my words.”
“You did no harm,” Mikoto quickly assured. “I am here to help.”
Kyrie adjusted his posture into something the headman was sure to understand, living as he did among dogs. “There is no excuse. I will own my mistake and learn from it.”
Mikoto dropped to one knee and searched Kyrie’s face from a closer quarter. “I believe I understand.” Meeting his palms, the headman gravely said, “All is forgiven.”
He offered a grateful smile.
“Truly, Kyrie.” Mikoto slipped his hands into a supportive position. “Tell me how I can help. Sinder is my friend.”
“And me?”
Mikoto pressed his thumbs gently into Kyrie’s palms and asked, “Are you asking if we can be friends?”
“Let there be peace between us,” he replied formally.
The headman bowed his head, firmed his grip, and smiled shyly. “You have made me glad our paths crossed.”
Kyrie felt somehow … richer.
Mikoto looked at him with something akin to awe. Which seemed silly when there was a flawlessly beautiful dragon beside them. Mikoto said, “You are very colorful. Is that rude of me to say?”
“Crossers are born with clear indicators of their clan. My colors surely echo those of my Amaranthine parent.” Kyrie quietly added, “Since my foster father is a fox, Sinder offered to teach me about my heritage.”
“Then we are both curious about dragons.”
Suddenly, Sinder’s claws slipped between them, closing around Kyrie, lifting him away from Mikoto. Kyrie already knew that a dragon’s digits were as dexterous as human fingers. Lapis had proven he could write while in truest form. And pull delicate sigils out of thin air.
Sinder gave Kyrie a light toss over his shoulder, then reached for Mikoto, ferrying him onto his back. He gave the young man more time to find his feet before letting go.
Mikoto’s eyes were wide, and he seemed at a loss where to put his hands.
“The first rule of dragons,” intoned Timur. “Once you spy the beast, do not look away. They deserve one’s full attention. And they know themselves to be deserving. However, they like to be reminded. Compliments are encouraged.”
Ginkgo propped his hands on his hips. “In other words, keep the center of attention where it belongs. Am I right, Damsel?”
Sinder arched his neck and warbled a series of notes that Kyrie could feel through his feet.
Timur directed, “You two check for any lingering splinters. They can get lost in the shift between forms. Meanwhile, I’ll warm the ointments and balms. Dragons are fussy about temperatures.”
A gusty huff.
Timur grinned. “I’m not criticizing. You should thank the four winds I’m not the kind of well-meaning fool who’d slather you in chilly glop.”
Kyrie could feel Sinder’s shudder.
“You’re a fortunate dragon, indeed, to have gathered a fellowship of four.” Timur promised, “We’ll take our time. We’ll do this properly. We’ll stir up your embers. We’ll bank your fires.”
THIRTY-ONE
Ulterior Motives
“How do you know so much about dragons?” asked Mikoto.
Timur fussed with the contents of the crate—mesh bags, labeled pouches, glass vials, and clay pots. “I worked with them and lived with them throughout my teen years. You could say dragons are my specialty.”
“I have never heard of battlers who partner with dragons.”
“You wouldn’t have.” Timur spared him a glance. “We’re quite the secretive bunch. My own siblings don’t know where I’ve been or what I did there.”
An expert. “We are fortunate you happened to be here.”
“Not really.” Timur’s next glance was amused. “I’m here by design. Or designs. Every time I turn around, I trip over an ulterior motive.”
Mikoto plucked up a bundle of fringed fettle. “Should I be worried? As headman, I mean?”
Timur glanced at Fend, whose lip curled. “Not as headman. But you struck your own bargain with Sinder, yes?”
“I did. You heard?”
“Not much, no details. But a dragon’s pledge has a certain ring to it. Hard to miss.”
Mikoto sighed. “You have confided in me. I would gladly offer a return of trust, but my secret is more of a mystery. In truth, I already confided in your sister.”
“Lilya?”
He backed up. “The first time we met, Tenma somehow mistook me for an Amaranthine, Zisa began dropping little hints about Impressions. After that, Tenma placed a call to your sister Isla. She is very knowledgeable.”
“Oh, she is at that. And did she sort your problem?”
Mikoto studied his hands, then glanced toward Sinder. “She said I needed a dragon.”
“And did Sinder sort your problem?”
“Not yet.” With a sigh, he admitted, “Nobody has said so outright, but I am beginning to think I fell in love with the wrong girl.”
Timur went still, his gaze sad. “Tell me about it.”
“May I help with these?” Indicating the warming pots and crushed herbs, Mikoto asked, “Do the standard proportions change for dragons?”
With a bemused look, Timur said, “For dragons, I double the mallow pulp, and I’ve added some lemongrass for Sinder, since he favors bright scents. You know the healing arts?”