Page 12 of Kimiko and the Accidental Proposal
“I can help you. Do you know anything about sigils?”
Tenma shook his head.
“If you’re willing, I can create a simple ward.”
The Rivven spoke slowly, as if to a frightened child. But Tenma couldn’t bring himself to protest the patronization. The concepts were so foreign. He risked a longer look, hanging on every word.
“I’m pretty good with defensive barriers, and I think you could use one.” The Rivven turned his way, enough for Tenma to see his face, but he didn’t raise his eyes. “May I borrow a piece of paper?”
Tenma reached for his bag. His hands were shaking, but he managed to locate a notebook.
“Set it on the table. And … might I also borrow a writing implement?”
Not until Tenma had set a mechanical pencil beside his notebook did the Rivven move his hands. Slow and precise, he creased a page and tore out a wide strip. “So you don’t know anything about sigils?”
“N-no.”
“I’ve heard this sort of thing calledmagicby humans.” He swiftly drew a pattern on the paper—detailed and delicate. Then he placed one finger at its center. “Perhaps it is.”
The air seemed to shiver, and then it … cleared. Tenma hadn’t noticed the clamor until it was gone, like the sudden silencing of cicadas on a summer’s day. He peered dazedly around the room.
“Better?” The Rivven was quietly folding that miraculous slip of paper.
Tenma mumbled, “Thank you.”
He nodded, then slid the sigil his way. Returning his hands to their neutral position on the table, he said, “Keep it in your pocket. Or sew it into an omamori, if you’d rather carry a charm.”
“How did you know what to do?”
“My uncle has been teaching me about wards. I adapted one that some Amaranthine use when they find a reaver’s presence overwhelming.”
“Oh.” The pall of danger had vanished, to be replaced by deepening mortification. “I’m sorry.”
His classmate turned, and Tenma was staring into inhuman eyes. Only instead of unsettling him, recognition slammed him upside the head. Copper. This guy’s eyes reallydidshimmer like pools of liquid metal, a phrase that appeared so often in the newsfeeds, it was woefully hackneyed.
“You had everyone in here worried. The Amaranthine, anyhow.” He still spoke in that slow, soft undertone. “I don’t think Ms. Reeves noticed.”
“How didyouknow?”
“Scent.” He slouched a little in his seat, getting comfortable. “Fear is distinctive. And unwanted. The wolves all had their hackles up, but none of them knew how to help.”
Tenma took a longer look around the classroom. The nearest wolf’s tail was puffed out like a hissing cat’s. Concern and relief showed on several faces. Removing his glasses, Tenma rubbed at his eyes, mostly to cover his face. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“Will you permit my touch?”
“Huh?” He fumbled his glasses back into place.
“For my clan, touch and trust are closely woven. It would put me at ease if you’ll allow contact.” With a faint smile, he reminded, “The meeting of palms is a traditional greeting.”
Muttering more apologies, Tenma held out his hands. Was it palm-up or palm-down? To his embarrassment, he saw that his hands were still shaking.
“Normally, the first to offer raises their palms.” He gently took Tenma’s hands, rotating them into position and covered them. “This is the simplest greeting, a basic courtesy that holds no great significance. Although the pressure and duration of the touch can lend certain nuances.”
The Rivven’s hands were larger than his. Although his touch was light, his hands lingered. And Tenma had a vague impression that this was a good thing. Like showing someone that you’re glad to see them.
“Less common is this.” He moved so his hands were cupped under Tenma’s. The Rivven’s thumbs curved around to brush lightly against Tenma’s palms. “This is an offer of support. An invitation to ask for help or for a favor. Like saying, ‘Whatever you need, it’s yours.’”
Tenma had wanted to learn things like this. He managed a shaky smile.
