Choking down his dose, Sinder allowed them to chivvy him into a more comfortable position, sitting against the headboard, propped on pillows. Lilya sat with him, tucked against his side, going through the motions, even though Papka’s and Uncle Argent’s sigils regulated everything.
After a scant half hour, Sinder removed her finger and kissed the knuckle. “Better stop there. Staying close is enough.”
She knew from Papka that some Amaranthine withheld themselves from direct tending. A pleasant atmosphere was enough to lift their spirits. Cossets were especially good at that sort of thing. So was Aunt Tsumiko, according to Kyrie. Except that Uncle Argent was forever shuttering his beacon, keeping her all to himself.
“Don’t go falling in love with me.”
“Same to you.” She was relaxed. Eyes closed. Calm.
A few beats later, Sinder tentatively said, “I’m much better at getting people to hate me.”
That was probably an exaggeration. “Like who?”
“The battlers, since I make their training a misery. Your brother, since I hurt someone precious to him. And don’t even get me started about Fend. Was that cat always a menace?”
Lilya giggled. “You’re rivals.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve been sleeping with him, yes?”
“Who can sleep? Timur snores worse than a seal with a stuffy nose.”
Sinder was sounding more like himself, which was a relief. She pointed out, “But that’s his usual spot.”
“He’s jealous?”
“And territorial. And temperamental.”
“Lilya?” called Timur, an odd note in his voice.
She opened her eyes, arched her brows. “What?”
Timur’s brow furrowed.
“Maybe he’s jealous?” suggested Sinder.
“Of what?”
“Good point. But he definitely thinks I’m up to mischief.”
“You can’t do mischief. You talk too much to get away with anything.”
“I could give you a list of all the people who agree with your assessment. But here’s the thing, Lilya. While I’m probably always talking, it’s not always out loud.”
She turned enough to study his face.
Sinder’s lips quirked. “Took you long enough.”
He hadn’t opened his mouth, yet his voice carried just fine. “Why can I hear you?”
“I think we’ve accidentally narrowed down your classification. Congratulations, Miss Lilya. You’re a fellow.”
FIFTY-SIX
Gain the Sky
Sinder spent the next few days effectively confined to quarters. It was no use trying to argue that there was a mission at stake. Not with Hisoka Twineshaft backing Timur. So Sinder was forced to endure a full course of remedial teas and handholding.
Sure, they said they needed time to revamp their strategies, but the suspension still felt like punishment. Sure, the rookies would’ve taken a break anyhow, what with the long holiday for Dichotomy Day, but did they have to ban Sinder from the woods?
He was restless.
He wanted to run.
Lilya came as often as her courses allowed. Kyrie came even more, since he slept less. Moon was scarce. Family stuff, no doubt. Hisoka’s visits came at odd intervals—brief, intense, and all business. Everyone had other places to be, other things to be doing. They were moving forward, getting on, busy elsewhere. Only Timur ever lingered. Usually to reinforce the whole bed rest thing by snoring in Sinder’s ear.
He needed air.
He wanted a look at the sky.
Easing out of his healer’s clutches, Sinder stole barefoot across an extravagance in tapestries Timur had strewn across the floor. The man had transformed Zisa’s home into a sanctuary fit for any dragon, and Sinder appreciated the pampering. But not tonight.
He wanted something else.
He needed something more.
Dawn was still an hour or two off, and the humans were all abed. He tiptoed through the hush, half expecting Zisa to swoop in for a surprise snuggle. But the hush held.
Dew beneath his feet. Breezes tugging at his unbound hair. Stars adding luster to a moonless sky. He wished he could touch them. He thought he could hear them.
Snatches of a song caught and held him, winding him up inside.
“Hey, Damsel.” Ginkgo tossed him a wave from where he was lounging among Zisa’s roots. “Nice, huh?”
Sinder drifted over, hugging himself against the chill, even though he was too warm.
“Strangest music I ever heard. Or almost heard. Reminds me of a meteor shower.” He drew a line in the air with one finger. “There and gone in a wink, but a nice surprise. It was clearer the other night. Probably because there were so many of them. All the fragments became a line, and the melody was sorta … otherworldly.”
He hadn’t heard their chorus. Not this time. Which only meant it hadn’t been for him. But Novi was close, and he was in a tuneful mood. Definitely a portent.
“Something wrong?” asked Ginkgo.
“Not sure.” Sinder pivoted and strode away.
“Where are you headed?”
“Into the open. Out from under these branches.” He kept right on walking. “I want to see that star. I want to run.”
Footfalls. Ginkgo caught up and matched his pace. “I usually run with wolves, but I like a change of pace. Mind the company?”
He was rattled.
He was desperate.
Sinder was barely holding it together, which made it easier to admit the truth. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Ginkgo’s ears dipped and flicked, but his manner was as casual as usual. “Not a problem.”
So Sinder ran, could only run.
Headlong, as if there were a pack at his heels.
But he couldn’t outrun the haunting melody that seemed to howl and shriek against his bones. Ignoring the slap and sting of needle and thorn, Sinder plowed on. He needed to silence this wailing need, but where was relief?
He wanted Juuyu.
He needed help.
“Damsel? You blundering idiot! Sinder!” Ginkgo swung into his path, lifted him off his feet, and bullied him into a broad tree trunk, caging him there. “What’s come over you?”
Sinder could only swallow thickly and shake his head.
“What’s going on. Talk to me,” he ordered sternly.
“Feels strange.” Sounded strange, too. He could barely hear his own voice, what with the ringing in his ears. He rolled his shoulders and winced at the bite of bark against his back.
And Ginkgo’s whole expression cleared. “Hey, okay,” he said gently. “I get it.”
He did? Sinder tugged at his shirt, desperate for answers. “What is it?”
“Hang on a sec.” Ginkgo half-turned and raised his voice. “Who goes there?”
Kyrie slipped out of the shadows. “Here I am.”
“What’s up, little bro?”
“The winds woke me.” He frowned slightly. “And the stars. What are you doing to Sinder?”
“Helping him. I hope.”
Sinder warbled miserably, and Kyrie answered with a gentle trill.
Ginkgo asked, “Which form is best for wings? Because there’s not much room here.” And when Sinder didn’t answer, he pressed, “That’s what this is, isn’t it?”