Beside her name, someone had added a neat notation in copper ink—BEACON. And in pencil, someone else had scrawled a list of names. She was confused at first, until she realized that these people were probably meant as possible husbands for her. More than half of the names were Amaranthine.
Yulin quietly said, “Glint does not always choose. He arranges the groups and the housing to ensure that compatible people will have the chance to meet.”
Lilya read the list again. Mikoto was on it. So was Uncle Waaseyaa. Lord Mossberne. Suuzu Farroost. And even Hisoka Twineshaft. Worst of all was the last name. She really, really wanted to talk to Ginkgo.
A hand on her shoulder brought her attention up to Yulin’s gentle expression. “What kind of future will you choose for yourself?”
Now, that was interesting. Because the wife of a member of the Amaranthine Council would have a very different life than the wife of a tree-kin. And her choice could affect her lifespan. If she took an Amaranthine husband, could she stay with Kyrie?
Yulin quietly closed the book.
Lilya carefully shifted into a grateful posture. “I don’t know yet.”
“Plenty of time,” Glint murmured distractedly. “Might try a preservationist or an ephemerologist, should wee Rifflet refuse to be parted with you. Or there’s a bloodline with close ties to dragons. One of our instructors carries on the tradition. He’s the settling sort. Good father.”
Did he mean Timur? Lilya glanced at Yulin. The scribe’s lurking smile and slow wink confirmed it. Her own brother.
“You remind me of … him.” Glint’s head snapped up, and he goggled at her. “Of all things! It is you, and here I have been …! Lilya?”
The jig was up. “Yes.”
“Did you know, Yulin? And where is my Radiance?”
Glint grumbled and sniffed and apologized and asked to start over. But it was too late. She didn’t want to go back to being a name and rank in Glint’s files.
No, she’d made up her mind. On the matter of husbands, she would choose for herself. And the sooner the better. If she could secure an early contract—this summer—bids for the world’s newest beacon would end before they started.
THIRTY-FOUR
The Most Important Thing
Zisa took one look at Rifflet and dropped to his knees before Lilya. “I love you already!”
While he tried to discover what kinds of things the little creature would eat, Lilya watched the moonrise from Waaseyaa’s front step. And waited.
Glint and Radiance had escorted her back together, fussing at each other in fond ways the whole while. After extracting a promise that she’d keep tomorrow’s appointment, Glint gruffly vowed to not to meddle … much. But he might know of a boy in France who was an up-and-coming ward. And how did she feel about tree-kin in a hypothetical sense?
Lilya leaned into Waaseyaa, whose arms must be strong to have been cradling Gregor for so long. He was a nice man. She liked him and Zisa both. But marrying Waaseyaa would mean staying here. It might be different if she happened to fall in love, but there wasn’t time for that.
“What’s the most important thing?” she asked.
Waaseyaa hummed.
Maybe there was no answer. Kyrie would have known a better way to ask.
But Waaseyaa said, “Listening, I think.”
That sounded very wise. Almost like something Aunt Tsumiko would say.
“Here they come,” announced Zisa.
Waaseyaa murmured, “He always knows.”
“Because he’s a good listener?”
His twin nodded. “Zisa pays better attention than people realize.”
That made her want to pay closer attention. As Zisa hurried to greet his guests, it occurred to Lilya that she usually only paid close attention to Kyrie. Could watching someone else be considered part of growing up?
And then Ginkgo was crouched in front of her. “New scarf?” he asked lightly.
“His name’s Rifflet.”
Lilya held up her arms for a hug, and Ginkgo immediately gathered her close. “What’s wrong, little girl?”
“My turn,” she whispered.
They were magic words. Like a pact, they were so important. She saved them up for emergencies, for those times when she needed to have Ginkgo all to herself.
Without letting go, Ginkgo turned his body. “Kyrie, watch over Gregor until we get back.”
“Gladly.”
Lilya looked up into Kyrie’s face. He spared Rifflet a quizzical glance, but simply asked, “Later?”
“Yes, please.”
Ginkgo scooped her up and sprang away—strong and sure and straight into mischief. “I know where the camp’s kitchen hides their ice cream. How about a midnight snack?”
“It’s not midnight.”
“Might be if we hang around long enough.” Ginkgo sprang playfully from one rock to the next along the edge of the song circle.
Lilya tightened her hold around Ginkgo’s neck. Her family was everything she cared about and the only thing she’d ever wanted. Even if she grew up, she couldn’t imagine that part ever changing. But maybe that just meant that she wasn’t grown up yet. Being eleven was a bigger problem than she’d ever suspected.
Ginkgo carried her to the kitchen behind the dining hall and worked a little foxish magic. He never used a door if there was a window available. Scooping two bowls of butter brickle, he sprinkled their dishes liberally with pecans. They found seats at one of the long tables in the empty dining hall.
“Ready when you are,” Ginkgo said.
“Remember when Darya needed to get married?”
“Sure. Won’t soon forget it, either.” He eyed her. “I’m surprised you remember. You were pretty little. Six, going on seven.”
“It was bad.”
“No question it was a hassle. Everyone got so worked up, myself included. But I wouldn’t say it was bad.”
“Darya cried for a week before she left.”
“So did I.” Ginkgo offered a sheepish smile. “It was hard letting her go like that. But your sister wasn’t crying because she didn’t want to go. She couldn’t help it. She knew how much she was going to miss us.”
“Not just that. All the heralds. All the applicants.”
“Oh, that. Yeah, that was no fun.” He poked at his ice cream. “Between you and me, Darya’s always been too smart for her own good. So she saw through all those hopeful offers. None of those young men did anything wrong, but they weren’t doing right by Darya. She needed more than they knew how to give.”
“How did she find somebody?”
“Didn’t you hear that part?” Ginkgo chuckled. “It was Hisoka, of course. He came one day with a packet. Only it wasn’t the usual kind. Just a letter and a snapshot. But it was enough.”
“She didn’t know him?” That surprised Lilya. She didn’t remember that detail.
“No. Which was why your Uncle Argent escorted her personally. If the guy was any kind of unworthy, my dad would have brought Darya straight back.”
Lilya asked, “Why can’t we talk to her?”
“Sometimes, enclaves have strict rules. They need to stay a secret.” With a wave in the direction of Waaseyaa’s house, he blandly added, “Darya’s husband has a twin. Y’know?”