“Oh, yeah?” Ginkgo’s stomach did a little anticipatory flip. “Why’s that?”
“Could be a distant relation.” Salali quietly added, “Before taking the Reaver name, Sora was a Hajime.”
Kyrie searched the star’s face, struggling against the urge to hide his own. He rivaled the dawn, and his gaze seemed to slide right into the secret places of Kyrie’s heart … as easily as his voice slipped into Kyrie’s mind.
“Are you certain you are not an angel?” he asked.
The shining person smiled. “I am sure that I am not carrying a message.”
Oh, tricky. The literal meaning of angel was “messenger.” Was he hiding a truth or revealing one? Perhaps angels were members of the sky clans with deliveries to make. Starry heralds.
Kyrie refined his question. “Are you an Impression?”
“That is how my people are understood.” The hand that partially supported Kyrie tugged. “Come, Kyrie. You must set your seal upon me, or I will overwhelm you.”
“Seal?” He swayed with the treetop, nearly colliding with the star.
“A sigil.” The star caught him close, and they were flying. “A ward. Lest you become drunk upon my light.”
Did stars have sway? Concentrating on his sigilcraft was more difficult than usual, so maybe it was true. Kyrie managed the lines of a basic seal and nudged it into place over the star’s heart. There was an immediate shift. Almost like a good sneeze after breathing in too much pollen.
“Are you the one I heard singing before?”
“Just now? Yes.”
“No. When we first arrived. Almost two weeks ago.”
The star arranged himself as before, sitting amidst fluttering leaves, only this time with Kyrie across his lap. “I am newly arrived. You probably heard Wardenclave’s star.”
“Whose star are you?”
“That is a secret.” The star was easier to look at now. Maybe the sigil had helped with that. He said, “I will give you another secret in its place. Did you know that reavers are descended from us?”
Kyrie needed a moment to grapple with that. “Descended from stars?”
“From stars and mountains and moonbeams. Occasionally even winds. But mostly from trees.”
Mother would be interested. Lapis, too, if he didn’t already know. “Reavers have imps in their ancestry? Are you the parent of a reaver?”
“Not I.” His smile was wistful. “I have no desire to leave the sky.”
Kyrie nodded and nodded again. He would fly forever, given half a chance. Surely it was his dragon side that yearned for the sky. “Why are you here?”
“To shine. To sing. To greet. To guide.” His gaze sharpened. “To confront.”
“Me?”
He inclined his head. “What have you realized?”
Even though the question was vague, Kyrie instantly knew what he meant, and shame burned across his face. “I realized … that tool is just another word for weapon. And that I have many and more than most realize.”
“And what might you do with such weapons?”
“I could find Sinder.” It felt like a boast. “I did find him.”
“What else?”
“I could reach him.”
“And …?”
“I could catch and hold him.” That would mean winning this game of theirs.
The star waited, knowing there was more.
“I could … I could hurt him.” Kyrie’s voice broke on his final confession. “And I think if I wanted, I could kill him.”
FIFTY-ONE
Show Me
Argent had warned Timur more than once that he was too quick to trust. As if optimism were a dreadful trait. Timur liked people, and he definitely looked for the best in them. True, it had brought him to grief more often than he liked to admit. But he couldn’t help believing that things would work out. That his hopes would find a safe harbor. That he’d reach the kind of balance the herds held in high esteem.
Sinder had the potential to be that kind of friend. Timur couldn’t deny his growing attachment. The dragon needed him, but that reliance might be nothing more than desperation. Even so, Timur would support him.
Once again, he probably cared more than he should.
Why was it so hard to find someone who cared back?
Fend’s tail smacked Timur’s thigh, and he spared his Kith partner a glance. The cat’s annoyance confused Timur. Sure, Fend wasn’t as much of a people person as Timur, but he’d never acted out against anyone before.
He offered his fingertips.
With a sinuous slide, Fend draped himself over Timur’s lap, demanding a larger share of his attention.
Burying both hands into plush fur, he quietly protested, “It’s my job to watch out for him.”
Mikoto quietly asked, “What does he have against Sinder?”
“Haven’t the foggiest.” Timur glanced toward Sinder’s latest vantage, low in the branches of a hulking oak.
“Is he a black panther?”
Timur didn’t mind chatting, but he pulled a quick sigil out of the air to muffle their voices. “Basically. Fend favors his mother, who is from a jaguar clan. But cats of their coloring are often referred to as black panthers.”
“How long have you been together?”
“We’ve been partnered for a little over a year, but he was born at Stately House. My home. I got to cuddle Fend as a newborn cub. But in cat years, he’s probably older than me now.”
Mikoto nodded. “That is how it is with Kith.”
They lapsed into a comfortable silence.
Like they’d been friends for years.
As a battler, Timur could only approve of Mikoto. Although young, he exuded competence and reliability. Earlier, they’d spent the better part of an hour comparing arsenals, each impressing the other. A battler of Mikoto’s caliber was wasted on Wardenclave. He was a front lines kind of guy.
Mikoto sat shoulder-to-shoulder with him, facing the opposite direction. Routine for battlers, since it gave them vision on all sides.
For a while, Timur pondered how far they could’ve gone in the annual tournaments as a two-man team. Totally unrealistic, given their responsibilities. New headman. New dad. But it was fun to ponder training menus and battle strategies.
A large owl passed overhead. A rookie’s Kith. It gave no sign of having noticed Sinder, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t.
Sinder slipped away without a sound.
Mounting Fend, Timur and Mikoto followed.
When Sinder next stopped, Timur made sure he drank some tea before falling back to a reasonable distance. To Fend, he said, “It happened again. I was standing right there, or I might not have noticed.”
Mikoto silently signaled a request for information.
Timur took more care with his sigils this time. “It’s Kyrie.”
“Is he coming?”
“I don’t think so. Sinder would be reacting differently if Kyrie had begun his approach.” Timur searched for some sign that the dragon realized what was happening. “I’m going to have to get that boy to show me how it’s done.”