Merl ushered him into the garden behind his house, unlocked the small shed that served as their shared armory, and readied himself to spar. Because this was how they did things. Mikoto always needed a while to figure out how to say what was on his mind.
They bashed around for a bit, changed weapons, and clashed some more.
After another exchange, Merl silently passed him a trowel, and they weeded most of the herb garden before Mikoto began to talk. There was so much. He knew he was forgetting details, but he managed the basics. And Merl listened closely, often pausing in his work to watch Mikoto’s face. The colt was amazed by it all. Every word.
So was Mikoto, come to think of it.
“Your connection to her must be strong if Tenma mistook you for one of us,” said Merl.
Mikoto grunted his agreement.
“So?”
He looked up.
“Have you made your choice?”
“I have.” He studied his hands. “Will it cause problems?”
Merl whole expression warmed. “Fewer than you seem to realize. But if problems arise, you can count on Wardenclave’s support.”
Mikoto nodded.
“Have you told Yulin?”
“No.”
“He will be the most help, so go to him next.” Merl rose smoothly. “But first … wait here, please.”
The colt disappeared inside, returning a minute later with a little bell, which he suspended from a branch of the plum tree in the corner of the yard. It chimed once, then settled into silence.
“But first,” Merl resumed. “Talk to her.”
“How?”
“Even if you cannot hear her, she can hear you. Tell her what you know, what you want. Give her as many reasons as you can to find her way to your side.”
Mikoto glanced around. “Can we be sure she is listening?”
Merl pointed to the bell.
It chimed.
“Maker bless,” murmured the colt, who went all soft-eyed. “Take your time. I will be inside.”
The cottage door closed.
Mikoto picked himself up out of the dirt, brushing absently at his breeches. “Is it you?” he asked uncertainly.
A breeze ruffled his hair, then nudged the bell.
“I did not know,” he began awkwardly. “And now I do.”
He waited, but of course she didn’t have anything to say. Or at the very least, no way to say it.
Clearing his throat, Mikoto got on with it. “You need to know that my feelings have not changed.”
The air went still, and it was hard to breathe. This was so embarrassing.
“All the things I loved about Lupe … were you.” He could feel the flush creeping, but she needed to hear it all. “More than anything, I wanted her to see me. Was it that way for you, too?”
The bell pealed several times.
He nodded.
“I do not know if this is enough, but ….” Mikoto took a steadying breath. “Tzefira?”
Wind brushed his face. She was listening.
“Tzefira,” he said more confidently. “I want to see you.”
Mikoto wasn’t used to being in charge. “Would you please arrange a … a gathering?”
“Very well.” Yulin set aside a stack of folders and clasped his hands. “May I know the particulars?”
He really didn’t want to go through the whole long story again, so he skimped. “I am going to woo the wind to my side. If it works—when it does—I am fairly certain I will be engaged. Or would it be considered a betrothal? I do not know the etiquette.”
Yulin gaped.
Mikoto settled for an apologetic posture.
“Precious noble,” Yulin said faintly. “How long has she been courting you?”
“The accident by the river. Since then. Maybe even before.”
Folding his hands over his heart, Yulin asked, “That long?”
“Sinder thinks I am wind-kissed.”
The moth stepped forward and touched Mikoto’s cheek. “And you wish to kiss her back?”
It was his turn to flounder for words.
Yulin inclined his head. “When you do, it will bind you irrevocably. You are right. There should be witnesses. Who did you have in mind?”
Mikoto had expected more resistance. “You do not disapprove?”
“Why would I?”
“I have a responsibility to Wardenclave. To serve as headman. To have a son.”
“Does she know this?” asked Yulin.
Mikoto supposed she must and nodded.
“Then all will be well.” He selected a notepad and stood with pen poised. “Dear me, there is so much to do! But the task is hardly insurmountable. Everyone will already be here for your induction.”
“Oh, I was thinking a smaller group. Something more … private.”
Yulin was already jotting. “For the Descent, surely. An intimate gathering for an intimate moment. I was referring to the solstice. What better time?”
Dignitaries were already arriving from all over the world, along with news crews, journalists, and Amaranthine enthusiasts. Every hotel, tavern, and bed and breakfast in Denholm was booked solid.
Mikoto watched Yulin scribble for a full minute before daring to ask, “Do you mean Dichotomy Day?”
“Noble heart,” Yulin said kindly. “I mean your wedding day.”
FIFTY-EIGHT
Intimate Gatherings
Part of Kyrie was jittery with anticipation for tomorrow, when Harmonious Starmark would arrive, Ever in tow. But today had an excitement all its own. Before leaving Waaseyaa’s door, he checked to see if Lilya also had her invitation.
“Ready?” She lifted the small envelope where her name was written with an extravagance of loops and flourishes.
He reached up to touch her hair, which Zisa had braided into a crown and flourished with his own flowers. Lilya adjusted the fold of Kyrie’s sash, which bore both the Mettlebright and Stately House crests. They’d dressed in their very best, since today was extra special.
With the help of Lapis and Sinder, Mikoto would woo the wind to his side.
The invitations, which were hand-lettered works of art, called this transformation a “descent.” Which matched every story Kyrie knew of the various sky clans. Moon maidens, stars, and storms were difficult to capture, for once they touched the ground, they could never return to their former home in the skies.
“Ready,” he agreed.
A few others were already gathering. This is where everything would happen, since Waaseyaa and Zisa couldn’t have attended otherwise. Ginkgo was already there, speaking in Japanese to a woman in a luxurious kimono. Timur and Salali were fussing with a lovely set of wardstones. Lapis had somehow ended up with Gregor, and each seemed entirely pleased in the other’s company.
Lilya made a happy noise and ran to speak to the Dimityblest at Mikoto’s side. “Did you write these?” she asked, proffering the invitation.
“I did.” He smiled gently and covered her hands. “Keep it as a memento of the day.”
“I’ll treasure it always.” And turning to Mikoto, Lilya said, “It’s like a fairy tale.”
Kyrie hung back. It was nice that she’d made friends. She might not even realize that, in her own way, she’d begun to feel at home here. Already their paths were beginning to diverge.